Locker 13 (4 page)

Then he turned and saw me. “Hey, Champ—” he shouted, his voice booming off the tiles. “You're early. Drowning lessons are next week! Ha ha! Nice swim trunks. Are those your
girlfriend's
? Ha ha!”

A few other guys laughed too.

I decided to ignore them. I was feeling pretty confident. About twenty guys were trying out. I knew there were only six spots open on the team. But after all my work last summer, I thought I could make the top six.

We all warmed up for a bit, taking easy laps, limbering up our muscles, getting used to the warm water. After a few minutes, Coach Swanson made us all climb out and line up at the deep end of the pool.

“Okay, guys, I've got to get to my night job by five, so we're going to keep this simple,” the coach announced. “You have one chance. One chance only. You hear the whistle, you do a speed dive into the pool. You do two complete laps, any stroke you want. I'll take the first six guys. And two alternates. Any questions?”

There weren't any.

Everyone leaned forward, preparing to dive. Stretch lined up next to me. He elbowed me hard in the side. “Give me some room, Champ. Don't crowd me.”

Okay, so he'll come in first, I figured, rubbing the pain from my side. That leaves five other places on the team.

I'm good enough, I told myself. I know I am. I know I am….

The whistle blew. All down the row, bodies tensed, then plunged forward.

I started my dive—and slipped.

The pool floor—so wet …

My feet slid on the tile.

Oh … no!

I hit the water with a loud
smack
.

A belly flop! No kind of dive.

Struggling to recover, I raised my head. And saw everyone way ahead of me.

One unlucky slip …

I lowered my head, determined to catch up. I started stroking easily, forcing myself to be calm. I remembered the slow, steady, straight-legged kick my instructor had taught me.

I sped up. I passed some guys. Hit the wall and started back.

I can do this, I told myself. I can still make the team.

Faster …

At the end of the second lap the finish was a furious blur. Blue water. Thrashing arms and legs. Loud breaths. Bobbing heads.

I tried to shut out everything and concentrate on my stroke … ignore everyone else … and swim!

At last my hand hit the pool wall. I ducked under, then surfaced, blowing out water. I wiped my hair away from my eyes. The taste of chlorine was in my mouth. Water running down my face, I glanced around.

I didn't finish last. Some guys were still swimming. I squinted down the line of swimmers who had finished. How many? How many were ahead of me?

“Luke—you're seventh,” Coach Swanson announced. He made a large check on his clipboard. “First alternate. See you at practice.”

I was still too out-of-breath to reply.

Seventh.

I let out a long sigh. I felt so disappointed. I could do better than seventh, I knew. If only I hadn't slipped.

As I started to trudge back to the locker room, Stretch strode up beside me. “Hey, Champ!” He slapped my bare back with his open hand, so hard it made a loud
smack
. “Thanks for making me look so good!”

I got dressed quickly, standing in a corner by myself. A few guys came over to say congratulations. But I didn't feel I deserved it.

Across the locker room Stretch was still in his swim trunks. He was having a great time, smacking guys with his towel, really making the towel
snap
against their bare skin, laughing his head off.

I tossed my towel in the basket. Then I stepped up to the mirror over the sinks to comb my hair. A ceiling lightbulb was out, and I had to lean over the sink to see.

I had just started to comb my wet hair back—when I saw the jagged crack along the length of the glass.

“Whoa.” I stopped combing and stepped back.

A broken mirror. Seven years bad luck for someone.

I reached into my khakis pocket and squeezed my rabbit's foot three times. Then I turned back to the mirror and began combing my hair again.

Something was wrong.

I blinked. Once. Twice.

A red light? Some kind of red glare in the mirror glass.

I squinted into the glass—and let out a cry.

The red glare was coming from a pair of eyes—two red eyes, glowing like hot coals.

Two angry red eyes, floating in the glass. Floating beside my reflection.

I could see my confused expression as I stared at the frightening red eyes … as I watched the eyes slide across the glass … slide … slide closer … until their red glow covered my eyes!

My horrified reflection stared out at me with the fiery, glowing eyes.

And I opened my mouth and let out a long, terrified scream.

 

Over my scream I heard heavy footsteps behind me. And then I heard a voice—Stretch's voice: “Hey—get used to it!”

I spun around. He grinned at me. “Get used to it, Champ. That's your face! It makes other people scream too!”

“No!” I cried. “No! It's not! Don't you see—?”

Coach Swanson burst in behind Stretch. “Luke—what's wrong?”

“My eyes!” I cried. “Look! Are they red?
Are
they?”

Coach Swanson and Stretch exchanged glances.

“What is his problem?” Stretch murmured.

Coach Swanson stepped up close and examined my eyes. “What's wrong with you, Luke? It's just the chlorine from the pool. Your eyes will be okay in a little while.”

“Chlorine? Huh? No!” I insisted. Then I glanced into the mirror. And saw my normal, brown eyes gazing back at me.

No glowing eyes. No red eyes burning in the glass like an evil movie monster.

“Uh … well …” I rubbed my eyes. They didn't burn or anything. They felt okay.

I turned back to Stretch and Coach Swanson. I didn't know what to say to them. They were both still staring at me as if I were nuts.

And maybe I was.

Black cats jumping out of my locker? Glowing red eyes in the mirror?

“Well … see you at practice,” I said.

Stretch laughed. “Not if I see you first! Ha ha!”

I laughed too. It wasn't funny, but I wanted to sound calm again, normal.

As I followed them out of the locker room, I realized I was trembling.

Why were these strange things happening to me?

 

After dinner I was supposed to go to the mall with Hannah. She wanted to buy me some computer software for my birthday. But she wanted me to pick it out.

That was really nice of her. But at the last minute I decided not to go.

I was still feeling weird from the swim tryouts. And I wanted to work on my animation project. If I worked really hard, I might be able to get it finished in time to show Mrs. Coffey before she left school.

I went up to my room and booted up the animation. But I couldn't concentrate. I kept staring at the four-leaf clover inside a block of clear Lucite I keep on my desk. And I kept jumping up and running to the mirror to check my eyes.

Perfectly normal.

Not glowing.

So what happened? What happened to me in that locker room? I asked myself. I tried to convince myself there was something wrong with the mirror. The red glow was because of the way the light hit the crack in the mirror. Or something.

No.

That didn't make sense.

The phone rang a little before ten o'clock. And it was Hannah, sounding very breathless and excited.

“Luke—you should've come! You should've come!”

I had to hold the phone away from my ear, Hannah was shouting so loud. “Why? What happened?” I asked.

“I won it!” she declared. “Do you believe it? I won!”

“Excuse me? Hannah—what are you talking about?”

“You know the raffle at the mall? That huge red SUV? It's been on display there for a month? Thousands of people put tickets in the box. Thousands! And—and—I just happened to be walking by when they had the drawing tonight. And—”

“You
didn't
!” I shrieked.

“Yes! Yes! I won it! I won the SUV!”

“Wow!” I slumped onto my bed. I actually felt faint. My heart was pounding as if I had won!

“You should've seen me when they called out my name!” Hannah gushed. “I screamed. I just stood there and screamed!”

She screamed again, shrieked at the top of her lungs. A long, high, joyful scream.

“Hannah—that's so awesome,” I said. I don't think she heard me. She was still screaming.

“My family is so happy, Luke. You should
see
them. They are
dancing
around the living room!”

“That's so great,” I said.

Hannah lowered her voice. “I just feel bad about one thing, Luke. I was so crazed, I was so
berserk
, I forgot why I was at the mall. I forgot all about buying you a birthday gift.”

I stood up. I picked up the block with the four-leaf clover inside and smoothed it between my hands. “That's okay,” I told Hannah. “I just decided what I really want for my birthday.”

“What's that?” she asked.

“I want
your
luck!”

Hannah laughed. She thought I was kidding. But of course I was serious.

“Are you going to school tomorrow?” she asked.

“Huh? Yeah, sure. Why not?”

“Tomorrow is Friday the thirteenth,” she said. “I know how superstitious you are. I thought maybe you'd stay home and hide under the bed all day.”

“Ha ha,” I said. But I felt a cold tingle at the back of my neck. “I'll be there,” I told Hannah. “I'm not totally wacko, you know.”

But I'll wear my lucky shirt, I thought. And I'll take my four-leaf clover in my backpack. And I'll ask Mom to pack my lucky sandwich for lunch—peanut butter and mayonnaise.

“I have to go to school tomorrow,” I told Hannah. “I have basketball practice after school.”

“How's practice going?” Hannah asked.

I chuckled. “Not bad. So far, I haven't gotten any splinters from sitting on the bench!”

Hannah laughed. I could hear shouts and wild laughter in the background. “I've got to go!” she said, shouting over the racket. “My family is still celebrating my winning the SUV! Bye!”

She clicked off before I could reply.

That night I dreamed about locker 13.

In the dream I stepped up to the locker. Someone had taped a calendar to the door. I came closer and saw that Friday the thirteenth had been circled in red.

I started to rip the calendar off the locker door. But I stopped when I heard loud breathing. Hoarse wheezing sounds. Like someone was having trouble breathing.

I touched the locker door. And it was burning hot!

I screamed in shock and pulled my hand away.

Again, I heard the hoarse breathing from inside the locker. And then I heard a tiny voice cry out: “
Please … get me out
.”

In the dream I knew I was dreaming. I wanted to lift myself out of the dream. But I was stuck there. And I knew I had no choice. I had to pull open the locker door and see who was in there.

“
Please … I want out. Get me out!
” the tiny, frightened voice called.

Even though I knew I was dreaming, I still felt so frightened. Real fear that makes you shake, whether you're awake or asleep.

I watched myself grip the door handle. Slowly—so slowly—I pulled the locker door open.

And I stared in horror at the figure huddled inside the locker.
Because it was ME!

It was me inside the locker, hugging myself, trembling all over. It was me—and my eyes started to glow. My eyes glowed out from the dark locker, red as fire.

And as I stared at myself, stared at those ugly, evil red eyes, I watched my face begin to change. I watched hair grow out of my nostrils. Long braids of thick black hair, sliding out of my nose—down, down to the locker floor.

Beneath the shining red eyes, thick, black, twisted ropes of hair were pouring from my nose. Out of the locker. Piling onto the hall floor. Curling around me as I watched.