Locked in a Locker (Oh, the Irony)

 The next day, Quinn was at their locker after school.

Charleton wasn’t really the fanciest school ever, so their locker was slate gray, scratches and penciled-in writing littering the metal, and it was situated in the basement, where the lights flickered and dust collected everywhere. 

Quinn’s locker faced away from the doorway leading from the hallway down the stairs to the basement, so they didn't see the two students approaching them as they emptied their locker, packing their stuff up to take home for the night. 

So they were more than a bit surprised when the girl and boy shoved roughly shoved them into the locker, the hook meant for hanging your bag up digging into their back and banging their head on the shelf cutting off the top of the locker. 

“Ow!” They shouted, initially surprised before they heard the click of the lock being closed. Pushing at the door, Quinn knew that their assumption was correct.

They were stuck.

This had happened before, of course. But that didn’t mean that it got any more pleasant.

Not waiting for their eyes to adjust, they pullet their battered phone from their back pocket and turned it on. The screen flickered with bright light for a moment before blinking out of existence. Confused, Quinn pressed their thumb against the button again, and this time only got an image of a battery with a thin red line in it.

Out of power.

Of course.

Sighing, they tucked it back into their pocket, resting their head against the rusty metal behind it for a moment, and sighed.

Quinn really hated everything right now. 

They hated bullies, they hated darkness, and they hated the stupid battery on their phone. 

Until there were footsteps.

Pressing their entire body against the door (with the amount of space in there, it really wasn't hard at all), they managed to look through the thin slits in the door in order to see a pair of well-worn jeans hugging someone's calf.

"Hey!" They shouted.

The footsteps stopped. "Hello?" The voice asked, disbelieving.

"It's Quinn!" 

They could now tell that the person was Lucas, and they breathed out a sigh of relief. "34-19-07!" they called.


"To unlock it!"

"Oh." In the next moments, the only sound was Lucas fiddling with the lock, Quinn's breathing loud in their ears in the cramped space of the locker.

Then there was another click, and Lucas yanked the door open, Quinn stumbling to get out.

They ended up in a rather awkward situation.

Quinn lay sprawled across Lucas' chest, the boy under them looking surprisingly okay with their position. 

The other teenager pushed off quickly, standing up and offering the brunet their hand.

"Uh, thanks." He said, and Quinn could have sworn that the light pink dusting across his cheeks was a blush. 

"Thanks for getting me out." They said, hooking their fingers into their belt loops in a display of their typical nervous tics.

"How did you even get in there?" Lucas asked, his brow furrowing.

"Um." Quinn rubbed the back of their neck with a hand, trying to decide how to explain to him what happened.

"Wait..." A look of horror dawned on his face. "You weren't locked in there by someone, were you?"

The guilty look on Quinn's face said everything.

"Who was it? Tell me." Lucas demanded.

"No!" They said, voice ringing shrilly. 

"Yes." His tone booked no room for argument.

Quinn crossed their arms. "No."

"If you don't tell me, I'll find out myself." Lucas threatened.

"Fine." They gave in. "It was Tamara and Wilbur." They mumbled, scuffing the floor with the tip of a Converse.

"I will end them." He growled.

Quinn grabbed his arm. "No! Please. I don't want my dad to find out. This isn't a large place. News spreads fast."

Their desperate look made the hard edge in Lucas' eyes relax a little, and he subsided, muttering under his breath about nasty little buggers, I'll get them back for this, they should know better.

The teenager across from him relaxed a little, running a hand through their hair, and adjusting their bowtie again.

"But I'm walking you home." Lucas said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Alright." Quinn sighed, slinging the bag onto their left shoulder. "Let's go."

They went.

The End

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