Sawyer stumbled back, foot over foot, clutching her towel around her but feeling the icy chill of the cold locker room air as it crept up her naked thighs. She swallowed repeatedly and knew that she would have to open her locker—what she would find, she wasn’t sure—wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Steeling herself, she used numb fingers to spin her locker combination, slowly pulling open the door. She let out a great whoosh of calming air when her locker contents appeared undisturbed—the usual jumble of school clothes tossed in a careless heap, a sneaker jammed with her bra, her jeans inside-out and balled up.
Looking over her shoulder, she quickly shuffled the wrinkled clothes out, putting her hand through the hole in her jeans.
Hole in her jeans?
“Holy shit!” Sawyer spat out the words—in anger or sheer surprise, she couldn’t be sure—and held what was left of her jeans out in front of her. The waistband was still intact—the rivets, the zipper, the zippy little 7 logo—but that was it. The denim was shredded and wagged in long, primitive tongues, the fabric edges already starting to fray. The crotch was torn out completely, and one of the pockets fluttered down like a broken moth when she shook the tattered fabric. She dropped the jeans and went for her T-shirt, her sweater—both had met the same fate, as had her running clothes. Her bra was a mess of overstretched cotton, the inner pads busted embarrassingly open, spilling out their little tufts of fluff. Her panties were gone.
Sawyer’s stomach twisted, and she felt the need to vomit; she doubled over, hand still clutching desperately to keep her towel closed, and dry heaved, coughing until her eyes watered, her nose ran.
“It’s just a stupid prank,” she whispered when she could catch her breath. “A stupid prank. Probably Maggie.”
She used the back of her hand to wipe her eyes and nose, and stood up straight, feeling the burning anger roil through her.
“Bitch.” She said the word through clenched teeth, yanked out her sneakers, and slammed her locker shut. She listened to the phone ring after she speed-dialed Chloe.
“Speak and ye shall be heard,” Chloe said, smacking on something on her side of the phone.
“You’ll never guess what that—that bitch Maggie did!”
“Regale me.”
“First of all, I’m in the locker room. Second of all, I’m wearing a towel.”
“Okay…”
Sawyer took a lung-cleansing breath. “Ask me why I’m wearing a towel.”
“I’m assuming it had something to do with a shower, but why, Sawyer, are you wearing a towel?”
“Because Maggie shredded my clothes!”
“Shredded them?”
“Shredded. Think coleslaw. Sans mayo.”
“She shredded your clothes? Were you wearing them at the time?”
Sawyer sunk down on a bench, scooching forward so her towel would blanket her naked skin against its cold aluminum. “No, I was in the shower. I ran late today and Maggie was there—here—before I got in the shower, then when I got out, she had spray-painted my locker and shredded my clothes.”
“Like coleslaw?”
“Like coleslaw.”
“That bitch!” Chloe spat.
“I know.”
“We have to stop her. We have to fight back—fight fire with fire.”
Sawyer hung her head. “I don’t want to do that,” she muttered. “Maybe I’ll just put a complaint in with Principal Chappie.”
“A complaint? As in a note in his complaint box? That’s a horrible idea, Sawyer. Horrible! That’s not fighting fire with fire; that’s fighting fire with paper. Fire kicks paper’s ass!”
Sawyer sighed, fingering the fringed end of her towel. “I need to get going.”
“Do you want me to bring you some clothes? I can be there in a few minutes.”
“No, that’s all right. If I don’t get on the road now I’m going to be stuck in traffic.”
“Not if you hit the freeway naked,” Chloe giggled.
Sawyer smiled in spite of herself. “Thanks, but I’ve got a towel.”
“Très chic.”
“See you tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
Sawyer hung up her phone and plodded to her locker, shoving the shredded remains of her clothes into her backpack and pressing it against her chest. She tried to inch the towel down for a more demure look; it was either a school-wide glance of butt cheek or super cleavage, and she decided to go with the latter as she sucked in a deep breath and peeked out the locker room door. Luckily, the school was nearly deserted, so Sawyer picked her steps carefully, trying her best to stay close to the walls and out of public view. There was a student council meeting going on in the English room, desks dragged into a semicircle, students semi-interested in their speaker, and Sawyer tiptoed past, feeling both the draft from her nakedness and the heat from her embarrassment. She made it to the school’s double doors and was ready to take off in a full sprint when someone yanked the door open.