“I had to go to my locker before lunch." Actually, i didn't, but i'd used the excuse so i could walk past Noah's locker and steal a few seconds-okay, a few kisses-from him.”

“I looked around. This house only the night before had been a home, and serves as a storage locker for memories that I could barely remember and a bunch of things I'd rather forget.”

“I still remember my middle school locker combination. Maybe I should go back to my old locker to see if I left my innocence in there.”

“My locker seems to have become the hub for sticky notes and nasty letters, none of which I ever see actually being placed on or in my locker. I really don’t get what people gain out of doing things like this if they don’t even own up to it.Like the note that was stuck to my locker this morning. All it said was, “Whore.”Really? Where’s the creativity in that? They couldn’t back it up with an interesting story? Maybe a few details of my indiscretion? If I have to read this shit every day, the least they could do is make it interesting. If I was going to stoop so low as to leave an unfounded note on someone’s locker,I’d at least have the courtesy of entertaining whoever reads it in the process. I’d write something interesting like, “I saw you in bed with my boyfriend last night. I really don’t appreciate you getting massage oil on my cucumbers. Whore.” I laugh and it feels odd, laughing out loud at my own thoughts. I look around and no one is left in the hallway but me. Rather than rip the sticky notes off of my locker like I probably should, I take out my pen and make them a little more creative. You’re welcome, passersby.”

“I thought I'd had another few decades before my noise complaint years.”

“There were only a few feet of visible space before the locker room turned a corner, giving Cole privacy to do his worst. Shit. Shit. Shit.”