Chapter 9: The Locker

I stood in front of my locker and did not move.

The hallway was filling with kids on their way to fifth period.

They slowed as they came around the corner, saw the wall of white paper, and then looked at me.

Someone giggled.

Someone said "Oh my gosh" in the low delighted voice people use at car accidents.

I counted the sheets without meaning to.

There were at least three hundred.

Whoever did it had stayed late, or come in early, with a roll of tape and a school printer.

I put my hand on the nearest one.

The ink had not smudged, so it was fresh.

My fingers closed, and I started to tear it down.

"Don't."

Cade's voice came from right behind me.

He put his bandaged hand over mine, gently, and stopped me.

"Not like that," he said.

"If you tear them down yourself, you're the girl cleaning up after them."

"Then what do I do?" My voice shook.

"Nothing."

"Let me."

He stepped past me, and he turned to face the hallway.

Forty students stood in a loose half circle, some with their phones up.

Cade took a long breath.

Then he reached up and tore the first sheet off the locker with one hard rip.

It sounded like a gunshot.

He ripped another.

Then another.

He moved down the row, tearing page after page and dropping them to the floor.

The hallway grew quiet.

"Who did this?" he asked, tearing.

Nobody answered.

"Who printed this?"

He dragged an entire strip of pages off the door of the next locker.

"It's a joke!" a boy called from the back.

"Come on, Hollander, it's funny."

Cade turned slowly.

He was a big boy, six foot three, and when he stopped being friendly he stopped completely.

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