Gravity - By Abigail Boyd Page 0,9

the whole thing was ridiculous. The door was locked, how could anyone be behind it? The whispers grew louder as if in answer to my thoughts; I could almost make out what was being said, but the sounds seemed to be not quite words.

Pressing my ear flat against the surface of the door, I listened. The voices stopped immediately, so fast that I pulled back. After a second, my breath picking up speed, I pressed my ear against the door again, harder. Listening for anything at all. Nothing but silence greeted me.

Painting and Drawing was my last class, located in the electives hallway, across from woodshop. Every elective, whatever that meant, was jammed in the hall, like leftovers. I hate Art class, only because I'm terrible at it. My best artistic skill is gluing sequins on Popsicle sticks, and even those turn out crooked. But Hugh insisted I take it every year, because art is good for the soul. Or because he couldn't admit to himself that he hadn't passed on the painting gene.

In every hall I'd visited, the gaudy purple lockers stood open, airing out after sitting the summer closed. I walked past the little metal spaces and found my room. Cupping my hand, I peered into the window. I couldn't completely tell with the inside lights off, but it looked bigger than the room Intro to Art was held in last year.

A loud bang ricocheted off of the walls. I jumped back a foot, clutching my chest. My mind reeled at the possibilities. A shooter, a bomb... But the sound had been distinctly metallic. I turned to look down the hall, fearful thoughts racing through my head.

All of the lockers were shut. Every single one.

I ran down and out of the hallway, heart hammering. At the same time, my mind reached desperately to contemplate logical reasons. No forced air. No breeze. Nothing to cause the doors to shut, especially all at the same time. Nothing rational.

I turned back over my shoulder and gasped. Every locker door stood open again, exactly as they had been when I first came down the hall. But my ears were still ringing from the sound.

Forcing my body to turn fully around, I walked cautiously down the hall, waiting for whatever trick was being played on me to happen again. But nothing happened. I pushed one door with the tip of my finger and it swung shut gently, sliding into the frame.

How did I just imagine that? I thought. Am I losing my mind?

I walked quickly out of the electives hall and down to the commons. It was very possible.

With polished, white tile flooring and a domed cathedral ceiling, the commons looked like something out of a high class college. Of course, that was probably the exact idea of whoever designed Hawthorne 2.0. The walls were already covered with school memorabilia and flyers, announcing football games and charity drives set in motion. The room was really the central hub of the school, long windows lining the far wall to let in filtered light. If a person were looking for someone when classes weren't in session, odds are they were hanging out in the commons.

I camped at one of the side tables, trying not to think about what had just happened. Avoidance was my way of dealing with everything these days. Whatever caused the sound had to have a logical explanation, even if I couldn't think of one at the moment. Maybe I only imagined the lockers being shut, because of disorientation from the sound. I clutched to the explanation to try to still my thoughts.

Putting in my earphones, I watched other people trickling in to the room. My music sounded strange in the school setting, almost off key, the lyrics too serious. I wondered idly why school couldn't be like in the movies, where everyone, even the nerds, had perfect hair and interesting plotlines. Maybe it was that way for some people.

The bell rang faster than I had anticipated. I went to homeroom. We were assigned our lockers first out in the hallway. Hesitant due to my strange experience earlier, I put in my combination, and peered inside the locker. Other than the smell of industrial strength disinfectant, there was nothing remarkable about it. Our teacher called us back into class, and I didn't give it a second thought.

Out of place didn't begin to describe how I felt. I was like a thistle in a garden of roses and lilies. I shuffled behind everyone