The Black Notebook

by Isabelle Snow

  I went first to the nurse’s office and got the medicine for my “stomach ache” and an admission slip, which I needed as proof that I’d been to the nurse’s office and wasn’t simply skipping classes.

  The nurse had even given me a suspicious look, already used to students using her clinic as an excuse for many other reasons and not exactly happy for it. She watched me as I slipped the pill under my tongue and drank water from the dispenser.

  “Thank you, nurse,” I murmured weakly, clutching my stomach as I left the room.

  Outside, I spat the pill out and into the nearest trashcan.

  Afterwards, I sprinted to the locker rooms, and ducked quickly into the boys’, avoiding the janitor who was mopping the floor. The moment I closed the door, I wrinkled my nose and immediately covered it with my hand. The stench of sweat was so strong that I thought I was going to faint. Clothes were scattered on the floor and some bags were carelessly tossed to the side but I noticed that none of them were Colin’s.

  It was worse than the girls’ locker room.

  I looked around, checking that nobody else was in there, before searching for locker number 13. Through means that I refused to call stalking, I’d found out Colin’s favorite number. And it was absolutely coincidental that I had chosen locker number 13 as well.

  Anyway, since there were no locks, it was easy for me to open his locker and look inside. On the door, he’d taped a picture of himself and his friends with sweat dripping off the tips of his red hair and a grin splitting his face. He’d hung his clothes neatly with a hanger and left his bag at the bottom of his locker.

  Resisting the urge to jump up and down in happiness at my success, I bent down and starting rummaging through his bag. Apparently the hard thing I’d felt earlier was a sketchpad, not a book or notebook.

  I knew it was a mistake for me to bring out his sketchpad and look inside, but curiosity won me over.

  The only other time that I’d seen his drawing was when he drew the black notebook to antagonize me, but the ones in his sketchpad made my jaw drop in awe. He had drawn sceneries of people talking and laughing without their knowledge, of buildings so tall they seemed to pierce the sky, of sunsets reflected on a calm lake and more. There were so many that I didn’t have to time to sit down and truly admire them.

  The darkened lines and gentle curves that he’d created with only a pencil were so riveting, so amazing, that it took me a moment before I heard the sound of the bell ringing, the door to locker room opening and dozens of boys laughing and walking in. They weren’t supposed to be back yet!

  I quickly closed the sketchpad and stuffed it back into his bag, forgetting the black notebook. I looked around the locker room, trying to find a place to hide in, and seeing that there was none, I slipped into Colin’s locker and silently shut the door.

  Through the holes of the locker, I peeked out and saw boys flooding in, their white shirts sticking to their bodies with sweat and their jogging pants stained with dirty footprints and dust.

  My eyes focused on one of the boys just as he pulled his shirt off and revealed a heavily muscled body. I blinked. And then he started removing his pants too. He was left in his boxers but someone just had to jump behind him and pulled them down.

  I tore my gaze away from the sight just as the sounds of laughter followed and echoed inside the little metal box I was in. Panic fluttered in my heart. How was I going to get out of there?

  “Did you see how blood was gushing out of O’Donnell’s nose like a waterfall?” someone asked.

  “Yeah, but what happened to him? I didn’t get to see.”

  “Seemed like the ball slipped through his hands and slammed into his face—bam!” One of the boys was kind enough to re-enact the scene. “Must’ve hurt like crazy.”

  “Of course it did, idiot. He was so dizzy he could barely stand. That’s why coach cut the class short.”

  A little closer to Colin’s locker, I heard another say, “I’m so glad coach let us watch the girls play basketball too though. So many bodies squeezing in together makes you want to be in the middle of it all, you know?”

  “Gross,” I whispered in disgust as several other boys laughed and howled their agreements.

  And then I heard another voice say, “So Colin, I’ve heard that there’s another girl chasing you around. Wasn’t her name Seven?”

  I froze in my place and listened attentively to the person’s next words, but it was Colin who spoke next and I recognized his voice immediately. He laughed and asked, “Yeah, what about her?”

  They were talking about me. I needed to hear this. I pressed my ear close to the holes.

  “It seems kind of cute, you know—how she goes after you and begs.”

  “Wait, she’s begging you?” someone else chimed in. “What’s she begging you for?”

  “Dang, Stillman, I didn’t know you were that kind of guy,” another boy said and they all laughed. I blushed, feeling so humiliated. I peeked through the holes and could see Colin standing just outside his locker. If he opened it and all the boys saw me, I was surely going to melt to the floor and die from embarrassment.

  “You’re just jealous, Smith,” Colin countered with a smile. “But Seven’s not that kind of girl. She has her reasons for doing what she does.”

  Was he actually defending me against his friends? I could feel warmth wrapping me up in a cocoon. I was…touched.

  The laughter faded away, and before I could take another breath, the door to the locker was opened and Colin stood in front of me, gloriously half-naked. I gave him an appreciative once-over.

  He was slim, but not thin with twig-like arms and skinny knees; he had lean muscles that weren’t entirely obvious under clothes, which was why I was pleasantly surprised right then. But even with the pathetic lighting of the locker room, I could see the way his skin glistened wonderfully with sweat, his strong chest that rose and fell with every breath, the line of his hard stomach that just lacked abs, and the cut of his hip bones above the waistline of his jogging pants.

  The sight of him sent shivers through my body and it definitely wasn’t from the cold. He must’ve been working out.

  He opened his mouth, probably to utter a curse in surprise, but he stopped himself in time. He closed the locker door just a little bit so that there was only a small space left, which he easily covered with his body. He looked around him and over his shoulder, checking if anyone else had noticed that there was a girl in his locker.

  Most had already gone to the showers, while some were still talking while taking off their socks, but no one paid us any attention. He turned back to me and whispered, “What on earth are you doing here, Seven?”

  “Oh, nothing much,” I squeaked weakly, a little dazed at seeing him shirtless, “just admiring the structure of lockers. The creator of them must’ve been a genius, huh?”

  “You’re crazy, you know that?” he said with a disbelieving smile. He leaned forward and I found myself staring at his neck, which oddly fascinated me with the way it gracefully curved to his broad shoulders and how his Adam’s apple bobbed up and his collarbones stood out.

  He must’ve noticed my shameless staring because he smirked at me and said, “Loving the view? Please, no cameras.”

  I glared at him as a blush crawled up my neck and reddened my face. I was glad for the shadow his body provided. I probably looked like a bright red tomato.

  “Came for the little notebook again, huh?” he asked and I remembered the reason why I was there in the first place. “It’s mine anyway,” I said, averting his intense gaze.

  “Yeah, well, it’s getting me tangled up in your complications as well,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Then give it back and you’ll be free of it and me!” I said in half a whisper, half a yell.

  Colin grinned at me and said, “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

  I bit my lip to prevent myself from screaming in frustration. Before I coul
d say anything else, he craned his neck and looked around again. Suddenly, he swung the locker door wide open and said, “Okay, the coast is clear.”

  I tentatively stepped out, peering at the other lockers and finding no one.

  “Come on,” Colin said, taking my wrist and dragging me out of his locker. He opened the door to the locker room and checked if the hall was empty before gently pushing me out. When I turned back to look at him, he made a gun with his hand and shot me in the forehead. “Now go.”

  “Thanks, by the way,” I said in a small voice and he raised his eyebrows incredulously.

  “You claim that I stole your notebook, and even when you pleaded with me again and again, I refused to return it to you, and now you’re thanking me?” he asked. “I didn’t know that was what you had to do to make someone feel thankful.”

  I frowned at him and said, “I’m not thanking you for that. Even if you were a jerk for not giving me back what’s mine, still, you…”—I swallowed and bowed my head—“you didn’t embarrass me in front of all those boys and even looked out for me. So, yeah…”

  His sarcastic expression softened. He smiled and I liked to think that it was genuine, not because he was making a joke or because he was mocking me, but because he couldn’t help it. Colin reached out and ruffled my hair. “You’re welcome, kid.”

  “Don’t call me kid,” I said, raising my hands to swat away his. “I’m just a year younger than you.”

  “Fine,” he said. “You’re welcome, Seven.” With that, he grinned at me and slammed the door in my face. I shook my head at him, although he couldn’t see me from the other side, and started making my way to my next class.

  The image of Colin, half-naked, came unbidden to my mind, but it definitely wasn’t unwelcome. Man, he was hot. I mean, I already knew he was handsome and tall with a nice build, but it was totally different seeing him like that.

  Blushing, I tried to dispel such thoughts but they wouldn’t go. Or maybe I just wasn’t all that willing to shoo them away.

  As I walked, I raised a hand to fix my messed-up hair—credit to Colin Stillman—and caught myself smiling for no reason.

  “Seven,” I whispered my name, remembering the way his voice sounded when he said it.

  I liked it. I really really liked it.

  Entry 5: Plan C – Ninja Style Part Two & Plan D – Threat

  Date: March 13, 2013

  I went over yesterday’s attempts of getting back the black notebook and decided to try again. If it weren’t for my mistake of looking into Colin’s sketchpad, I could be holding it in my hands as we speak. I was going to have to make sure not to make any more mistakes like that again.

  That morning, I’d chosen my wardrobe conscientiously.

  I usually wore plain T-shirts under a coat or thick comfy sweaters to school, but that day I brought a black sweatshirt along with me. First thing that morning, when I saw Colin, he taunted me by curling his hand, beckoning me. I simply stuck my tongue out at him and walked away.

  After my first class, I immediately headed into the girls’ bathroom and replaced my cardigan with the black sweatshirt. I pulled my hair back in a tight ponytail so I wouldn’t be easily recognized. I zipped the sweatshirt up to my neck and covered my head with the hood.

  When I came in as Seven Warrilow, I was wearing a hot pink graphic tee under a gray cardigan. When I came out with a black sweatshirt, dark jeans and black Converse, I had a new identity.

  And it worked. In the halls, nobody approached me or called after me with more secrets. For the first time in a long while, I was invisible to the people around me. They bumped into me, scowled at me for not saying “excuse me” or even “sorry” and turned away without another thought about me.

  I searched the halls for Colin and found him alone at his locker. He was exchanging some of the books in his arms and I quickly walked closer to him. He didn’t notice me. I stopped in front of him and stooped down to my knee, my fingers untying and retying the laces of my black Converse.

  I could feel his eyes on me for a few seconds, probably trying to see who I was, but since he didn’t know it was me, he returned to his locker and typed on his phone for a while.

  I glanced up furtively and saw the black notebook sticking out of the front pocket of his backpack.

  After finishing the knot of my laces, I stood up and passed by him, my hands surreptitiously reaching out for the black notebook like the ninja that I was—and I almost had it—but Colin turned around and bumped into me.

  “Oh, sorry,” he murmured, peering at my face, but I looked away and nodded mutely. I tried to walk away calmly and naturally and not make it obvious that I wasn’t just another student that he’d bumped into, but Seven Warrilow, who desperately wanted her notebook back.

  I walked to the next girls’ bathroom, making sure I kept my distance from him, and changed back to my original outfit. I walked out and headed to my next class, which was calculus.

  Unfortunately, I had only that one period of calculus with him that day and he had hung his bag on the seat in front of him again, completely out of my reach.

  “So, are you going to do something different today, Seven?” he asked me as he passed the test papers to me.

  I took them from his hands, our fingertips brushing, and got one for myself. I gave the rest to the person behind me and replied, “Mr. Stillman, please turn around or I will be forced to tell the teacher that you are going to steal answers from me, just as you have stolen a certain black notebook.”

  He snorted with a smile and wordlessly turned around. I was so frustrated with my epic fail of a plan that day that I almost couldn’t solve some of the problems in the test, but it all worked out in the end.

  Once the bell rang, I didn’t go to change into the black sweatshirt again. I knew I couldn’t go to Colin again, pretend to be lacing my shoes, and try to take back the black notebook—that would be too obvious, and I wasn’t that stupid.

  So I tried again during lunch.

  Usually, I would sit with whoever invited me during the period before lunch. That day it was Karen, Jeremiah, and Lola, who had told me several times before that their friendship went all the way back to when they were still in their diapers.

  They were a fun trio who formed a band way back in middle school and were currently doing gigs at clubs and parties. I’d listened to a couple of their songs and they were admittedly really good.

  “I’ll meet you guys there,” I told them after class, “I have something to do first.”

  “Alright,” Karen said, looping an arm through Lola’s and Jeremiah’s, “see you there, Seven!”

  I made sure they were out of sight before I ducked into the girls’ bathroom and shrugged on the black sweatshirt. I stepped out of the stall and, seeing as there was nobody else around, I briefly checked my reflection in the mirror.

  My eyes looked tired, with dark half-circles under my eyes. My cheeks were lacking color and my hair was slightly wavy at the ends from how tight my ponytail was earlier. I tied it up the same way right then and tucked it under the hood. Just as I exited the bathroom a girl was walking past and I bumped right into her.

  “Sorry,” I muttered quietly and she looked up at me, tears in her eyes. I recognized her as Samantha, a senior from my AP Philosophy class.

  She’d talked to me several times before about her boyfriend cheating on her and how she was never going to be able to move on and I would remind her that she could if she really wanted to. It seemed she still didn’t want to.

  “Are you okay?” I blurted before I could remind myself that I wasn’t supposed to be Seven Warrilow, the secret keeper and adviser extraordinaire right then.

  Samantha was pretty short, so she had to tilt her head a bit to look at me. I bowed my head, the hood shadowing my face so she wouldn’t realize that it was actually me. With her lips parted, she nodded.

  Seeing no point of staying any longer, I quickly turned away
and started making my way to the cafeteria.

  The place was nothing special—an arrangement of picnic tables with gum stuck underneath and benches for seats, stained trays with either sauce or something unmentionable on it, and moderately clean floors. But the one thing that would always come to mind when I thought of the cafeteria was the noise: the sounds of tons of people talking, laughing, whispering, whining, chewing, coughing, sneezing, clapping, and shouting all at once, accompanied by the clinking of forks and spoons against plates.

  I quickly scanned over the tables to see if Colin was seated already and found him in the line. I dashed right behind him, seizing the opportunity, and tried to locate the black notebook in his bag. He was busily talking to somebody I didn’t know and didn’t notice me unzipping the front pocket of his bag. Empty.

  He stepped back as he gestured at something I couldn’t see or didn’t care to see and I immediately shoved my hands into my pockets, looking away.

  He took a tray from the pile and I did the same, quietly stepping forward whenever he did.

  This is a new way of stalking, a part of me commented and I quickly told it to shut up.

  I was watching him surreptitiously, trying to find an opportunity to grab the other zippers of his bag, when he offered the tray for the lunch lady to put a bowl of soup on and I glanced at his hand.

  How come I’d never noticed his hand? It was large, bigger than mine obviously, and had long, slender fingers with cleanly cut fingernails. His knuckles stood out as he gripped the tray and I noticed some of the veins at the back of his hand. His wrist was beautifully crafted—if a wrist could ever be called beautiful—and was adorned with a black watch. I had no idea how, but somehow…it looked good on him.

  I shook my head and focused instead on the other front pocket. I shortened our distance until I was close enough to reach up and touch his hair. I wondered if it was as soft as it looked—