Locker Hero

by Rachel Renée Russell

  “In spite of doing intense battle with his nemesis for an entire week, our courageous champion has successfully protected the life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness for people around the world.

  “However, as our hero prepares to return to headquarters for some well-deserved rest and relaxation, little does he know that a dark, ominous presence has slowly slithered up behind him and is about to STRIKE!”

  It was . . .

  THUG THURSTON?!

  OH, CRUD!!

  “Hey, BARF!” Thug snarled. “I’m glad I had an after-school detention today. Because now you and I get to play my favorite game!”

  “Really!” I said, taking a step backward and waiting for my natural fight-or-flight bladder response to kick in and protect me from Thug’s BRUTAL game that would probably result in a very slow and painful DEATH.

  “Wanna know what GAME it is?” He sneered like a middle school version of the crazed villain the Joker, but with sagging pants and really bad acne.

  “Um . . . not really?” I answered, hoping he’d say something fun and basically harmless like checkers, chess, or Ping-Pong.

  And if I was REALLY lucky, Thug was into my little brother’s favorite game, Duck, Duck, Goose!

  “It’s called LOCK-A-LOSER-IN-A-LOCKER! And today YOU’RE the loser!” Thug jeered.

  “That doesn’t sound very fun,” I muttered.

  “Well, it’s FUN for ME!!” He grinned like a shark.

  That’s when I began to struggle with some very serious and troubling questions.

  WHERE was my nervous bladder when I REALLY, REALLY needed it?!

  And WHY had every other human being been given the FIGHT-or-FLIGHT instinct to survive, when I had been CURSED with, um . . .

  PANIC-and-PEE?

  I quickly grabbed my backpack and tried to make a mad dash for the exit.

  But Thug grabbed me by my shirt, picked me up off the ground, and tossed me into my locker!

  Then he slammed the door.

  BAM!!

  “NOOOOO!!” I screamed from inside.

  “Have a nice WEEKEND, BARF!!” He laughed as his footsteps echoed down the hall.

  I could NOT believe all of this was happening to me AGAIN!!

  Only this was ten times WORSE!

  All the students and teachers were gone.

  And it appeared that most of the other faculty and staff had already left as well.

  Suddenly my heart started to pound, and I broke into a cold sweat!

  The warm, musty air inside my locker was already making it hard for me to breathe.

  But I hadn’t given up!

  YET!!

  Sorry, Thug!

  But Max Crumbly wasn’t going down without a fight!

  Mustering all of my strength, I frantically kicked the door and yelled at the top of my lungs as my cold, harsh reality slowly sank in. . . .

  I WAS STUCK IN MY LOCKER . . .

  . . . FOR A THREE-DAY WEEKEND!!

  13. HELP!! I THINK I’M GONNA THROW UP!

  DANG! NOT AGAIN!

  THIS IS INSANE!

  I couldn’t believe I was on lockdown for the SECOND time today!

  I felt embarrassed and humiliated. But, more than anything, I was FURIOUS. Let’s be real, people. Wouldn’t YOU be ticked off if you were forced to spend a three-day weekend stuck at SCHOOL?!! Let alone INSIDE your locker?!

  I didn’t have a choice but to peek through those tiny vents in my locker and anxiously wait for someone to walk by.

  I convinced myself that if I was REALLY, REALLY patient, at some point a random person would wander down the hall and rescue me.

  But, unfortunately, no random wanderer passed by.

  Then I told myself that even though it was a three-day weekend and mostly EVERYONE was already gone, there was STILL a SLIGHT chance SOMEONE had hung around after school. And THAT person would rescue me.

  But sadly, no after-school hang-arounder appeared.

  That’s when I gathered every ounce of courage and bravely confronted my very difficult situation. . . .

  My nervous bladder was acting up again, and if I didn’t get out of that DANG locker soon, I was going to PEE my pants!

  My life was completely over, and I was going to DIE a lonely, painful, and senseless DEATH!

  TRAPPED within the four metal walls of my locker. Like a disgusting, stinky . . . human-sized, um . . .

  SARDINE in a . . . CAN!!

  ME, TRAPPED LIKE A SARDINE INSIDE MY LOCKER!

  But do you wanna know what’s even MORE disgusting?!

  My grandma loves to mash up sardines with Cheez Whiz and ketchup and eat them on crackers.

  BLURP! That was me throwing up inside my mouth.

  After what seemed like FOREVER, my watch beeped at six p.m., and I realized I’d been stuck in my locker for almost TWO. Whole. Hours.

  I was starting to feel . . . HOPELESS!

  That’s when I had yet ANOTHER panic attack and used my inhaler for the second time today.

  Needless to say, after THAT little episode I was anxious, exhausted, and dripping with sweat.

  I also felt really dizzy and queasy.

  But don’t get it twisted!

  A combination of extreme stress, exhaustion, heat, and dehydration is enough to make even a superhero feel SICK!

  HOW do I know this?

  Because the same thing happened in THE INCREDIBLE HAWK (my very own comic book series that I write in my spare time).

  Although he’s a humble part-time forest ranger, race car driver, and rock star, he has an amazing superpower, to turn into an indestructible screeching hawk just by screaming, “BAH-KAAW!! BAH-KAAW!! BAH-KAAAAAAW!”

  And get this!

  In Volume 3 the Incredible Hawk actually puked up two lizards, three squirrels, and eleven mice while doing battle with his archnemesis, Thug the VENOMOUS VULTURE, in the Sahara Desert in 117-degree heat (which, I’m guessing, is probably the temperature inside my locker)!! . . .

  THE HAWK AND THE VULTURE BATTLING IN THE DESERT!!

  THE HAWK, LOSING HIS LUNCH!!

  Hey, that scene was SICK in more ways than one.

  There’s no doubt the Incredible Hawk would make a KICK-BUTT superhero movie!! Right?!

  Anyway, I was about to give up hope and VOMIT when I thought I heard a very faint sound. . . .

  SQUEAKY-SQUEAK! SQUEAKY-SQUEAK! SQUEAKY-SQUEAK! SQUEAKY-SQUEAK!

  I desperately peeked through the tiny vents in my locker and completely FREAKED!

  I could NOT believe what I saw!

  I could NOT believe what I THOUGHT I saw!

  If you’ve ever been trapped in a place where you can barely SEE anything or HEAR anything, after a while your brain starts weirding out. Then your imagination takes over and you think, see, and hear some pretty WACKY STUFF.

  SQUEAKY-SQUEAK! SQUEAKY-SQUEAK!

  It’s called SENSORY DEPRIVATION, my friends, and let me tell you . . . it is NOT fun.

  I was ALSO a little worried about my brain cells dying off from some obscure and very deadly disease like . . . um . . .

  LOCKER-ITIS!!

  Hey, don’t laugh. It could happen.

  SQUEAKY-SQUEAK!

  SQUEAKY-SQUEAK!

  Anyway, there was a VERY good chance my mind was playing tricks on me and everything I’d just seen and heard in the hallway was merely a HALLUCINATION.

  A very CRUEL and TWISTED one.

  14. THE KING OF CLEAN ROCKS?!

  If my life were a comic book, my situation would be summarized like this. . . .

  “When we last left our hero, he was trapped inside the four impenetrable walls of his locker, brutally imprisoned for three long days, or very possibly all of eternity, by his evil archnemesis, Thug Thurston! Will our courageous hero make it out alive? Or will he be EATEN like a helpless SARDINE with Cheez Whiz and ketchup on the cold, hard CRACKER of DOOM?!”

  I cowered in fear as a dark, phantom-like figure moved slowly down the hall toward my locker. And
even though its shadow was massive, it made an unusually annoying, but vaguely familiar, high-pitched sound.

  I didn’t have the slightest idea WHO or WHAT it was. As its shadow fell upon my locker, I held my breath and cautiously peeked out.

  That’s when I saw . . .

  A SCHOOL JANITOR?!

  Since it was so late, I assumed he was finishing up his work and about to head home.

  That’s when I started yelling like a maniac. “HELP!! HELP!! PLEASE!! I’M STUCK INSIDE MY LOCKER, AND I CAN’T GET OUT. IT’S KIND OF AN EMERGENCY! HEEEEEEEELLP!”

  The janitor stopped in his tracks, cocked his head, and just stared.

  He appeared to be trying to figure out which locker the cries for help were coming from.

  FINALLY! I’m going to be rescued!!

  I was SO happy and SO relieved, I wanted to do my victory dance right there inside my locker. I never thought in a million years that a school janitor would end up saving my life.

  I didn’t know him that well. But I DID know he had a really tough job.

  I mean, would YOU want to clean up vomit, unclog toilets, peel gooey wads of toilet paper off the bathroom ceilings, scrape gum from under desks, and do other assorted totally disgusting tasks?

  EVERY SINGLE DAY for thirty years?

  For a bunch of loud and obnoxious middle school kids?

  I didn’t think so!

  No wonder the guy was always so GRUMPY!!

  In spite of my personal problems, I suddenly felt GRATEFUL to be alive.

  But mostly I was grateful I didn’t have to clean up after 750 NASTY middle school students!

  “UM . . . THANK YOU!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!” I yelled through my locker. “I WAS STARTING TO THINK THAT I’D NEVER GET OUT OF HERE!”

  The janitor nodded his head and then picked up his mop.

  WHAT?! Was this guy going to try to pry my locker open with the mop handle or something?!

  “EXCUSE ME, BUT I CAN GIVE YOU THE LOCKER COMBO. THAT WOULD BE A LOT EASIER THAN USING YOUR MOP!” I said.

  Then he did the strangest thing.

  He actually started to . . .

  DANCE?!!

  Listen, I was super happy about getting out of the locker too.

  But I couldn’t help thinking . . .

  DUDE!! Let’s save the VICTORY DANCE until AFTER you rescue me! Okay?!

  Then things took a very TRAGIC turn!!

  I finally noticed that the janitor was wearing . . .

  AN MP3 PLAYER AND EARBUDS?!!

  “NOOOOOOOO!!! HE CAN’T HEAR ME!!” I groaned and kicked my locker door in frustration.

  The janitor didn’t have the SLIGHTEST idea I was just inches away from him.

  I could have just reached through the locker vents and SMACKED him (well, if I had, like, really teeny-tiny hands)!

  And thanks to the VERY loud music he was blasting, it was going to be IMPOSSIBLE to get his attention.

  Unless I maybe set my math book on FIRE and hoped he noticed the SMOKE billowing out of my locker.

  It didn’t take long for me to realize there was one thing WORSE than being trapped in my locker. . . .

  Being trapped in my locker while being FORCED to watch a school janitor dance while singing off-key.

  Sorry, but the guy was so bad, he couldn’t carry a tune in his mop bucket.

  But since I was a captive audience, all I could do was cringe while he sang and played air guitar on his mop handle.

  It was surreal!

  He was like some kind of delusional geriatric rock star on his farewell world tour . . .

  THE KING OF CLEAN ROCKS!!

  Then, in the middle of his song, he played a super-intense air guitar solo for three minutes.

  Next he hopped down the hall like a 170-pound bunny on steroids. . . .

  And for his finale he ran, dropped to his knees, and slid twenty feet down the hall. . . .

  . . . dramatically ending his song with a fist pump right back in front of (you guessed it) . . . MY LOCKER.

  Talk about CRUEL IRONY! DANG!!

  But, singing aside, I had to admit he put on one HECK of a show!

  For an old dude with a mop, anyway.

  I would have enjoyed it a lot better if I hadn’t been watching it from, you know . . .

  INSIDE OF MY STUPID LOCKER!!

  After bowing to his thousands of imaginary fans, the janitor pushed his cart into a closet and started turning off all the lights in the building.

  Then he danced down the hallway, past my locker, and right out the side exit door.

  I know!

  My REALLY bad day was getting WORSE by the minute.

  Because NOW I was locked inside a DARK and CREEPY school building . . .

  Alone.

  While trapped INSIDE my locker.

  With no food.

  No water.

  And no bathroom.

  For an entire three-day weekend.

  Sorry, but that was just WRONG on so many levels!

  15. RANTINGS OF A LOCKER LUNATIC

  Being trapped in my locker gave me plenty of time to do some serious thinking about my cruddy life.

  Like, what was GOOD about it (my family, I guess) and what was BAD (I had a long list of stuff), and whether I had the power to change anything.

  I was sick and tired of Thug treating me like DIRT. But, I had to admit, it was MY fault for letting him get away with it. I should’ve asked for help. I promised myself that IF I got out of this fiasco alive, I would NEVER, EVER let this happen to me again. Or to anyone else, for that matter.

  I didn’t deserve this! NOBODY deserved this! I felt really sad when I thought about my parents. They worried about me a lot and always asked how things were going at school. But I’d lied to them.

  So NOW I’m going to tell them the TRUTH.

  Dear Mom and Dad, THIS is how I’m FEELING! . . .

  Yeah, you could say my feelings are probably a little overdramatic intense and raw at the moment.

  Sorry, but that’s just where my head is right now.

  It’s about time everyone knew the truth.

  Hey, there’s no shame in MY game!

  Anyway, I’ve been trapped in my locker now for over three hours. Which means I now have only . . .

  *Doing the math in my head*

  EIGHTY-FIVE MORE HOURS TO GO?!!

  DANG!!

  The worst part of all of this is that my family won’t even realize I’m MISSING until it’s too late, due to my hectic schedule.

  What outrageous, adrenaline-pumping, super-fun activities did I have planned for my three-day weekend?

  How about rock climbing, a 5K race, extreme skiing, and a freestyle BMX competition!

  NOT!!

  My grandma planned to attend the annual Westchester Knitting Convention with her friends on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday to take a bunch of classes.

  And get this!

  She offered to pay me $20 a day to DOGSIT her mangy little mutt, Creampuff, at her house all weekend.

  So, YES! I agreed to sleep over and babysit a mentally disturbed dog with a nasty habit of scooting his butt on the carpet when he thinks no one is looking.

  Which meant I’d mostly be eating, sleeping, watching TV, and playing video games for three whole days and actually getting PAID for it! SWEET!!

  I bet you’re probably thinking my grandma will just call my parents when I don’t show up at her house.

  Then my parents will call the police to report their darling child missing.

  Then I’ll be tracked down at my school and rescued all easy-peasy like! Right?

  WRONG again!

  This morning my grandma called me and CANCELED at the last minute.

  But I’d decided NOT to mention this little detail to my parents since they’d been nagging me to clean out the garage and I was thinking about staying overnight at Brandon’s house and hanging out at Fuzzy Friends all weekend instead.

  My grandma and her friends decided NOT to go to t
he knitting convention because the TV weatherman predicted rain.

  And although the convention was indoors, she said the rain would aggravate her arthritis and make her cankles swell, so she decided to stay home and watch a Golden Girls marathon on TV instead.

  And now my grandma thinks I’m at home with my parents.

  And my parents think I’m at my grandma’s house.

  Which means my ENTIRE FAMILY is blissfully unaware of my whereabouts, although Megan could not care less.

  It will be several DAYS before they finally figure out I’m in trouble and call the police.

  And by that time it’ll be too late!

  Of course, Megan will celebrate my untimely death by turning my bedroom into the walk-in shoe closet she’s always wanted.

  And Oliver will put on his Bat Kid costume and gleefully scribble with black markers all over my personal stuff (including my cherished comic book collection) AND my bedroom walls, until he runs out of markers or drops from exhaustion, whichever occurs first.

  I don’t mean to be all doom and gloom, but short of a miracle, there’s NO WAY I’m going to make it out of my locker ALIVE!

  16. WHO SAYS A ZOMBIE CAN’T RAP?!

  BEEP-BEEP! BEEP-BEEP!

  BEEP-BEEP! BEEP-BEEP! BEEP!

  My eyes fluttered open and my heart pounded like a bass drum as I was startled awake from a deep sleep.

  The fog began to clear in my brain, and I realized my watch had just beeped 9:00 p.m. But for some reason it seemed a lot later than that.

  My bedroom was a lot darker than usual too. Did I need a new bulb in my night-light?

  My throat felt raw and my legs were cramping. Actually, my ENTIRE body ached.

  And I’d just had the CRAZIEST dream!!

  About . . . THUG THURSTON?!!

  I leaned over to turn on the lamp sitting on my nightstand and . . .

  BANG!!!

  I hit my head against cold, hard metal.

  OW!! That HURT! It felt like someone had rung a bell inside my brain.

  “WHERE the heck am I?” I wondered.

  I reached into the darkness and felt my coat, my backpack, my journal, and . . .