The Boys of Summer (2 page)

“You know who’s behind this, don’t you? That
low-life ex of yours, that’s who.”

I didn’t need to agree; I knew it was Scott.
It always was. Not to mention I was well aware of his particular
fondness for Twirly Whirls. First there was the note in Biology
that had sealed my fate as “that flat-chested girl” and the rumours
he spread shortly after that claimed I was frigid.

But
this
was by far the worst thing he
had ever done. Before this, it was the odd, empty Tic Tac packet in
front of my locker. That hadn’t happened in months, though. He had
lulled me into a false sense of security. I was such an idiot.

I sighed and straightened myself to fake
indifference.

“Well, I better get it off,” I said as I
walked over to the wheelie bin, dragging it over from the corner of
the room to my locker and assessing the damage.

Ellie calmed down a bit as she came closer. I
could feel her body tense, and she quickly looked away. “I’ll, um,
go and find something to wipe it off with.” She started to back
away.

“OK, but don’t go and tell anyone –
promise?”

Ellie sighed and looked at me, sympathy
pouring past the anger. “I won’t promise forever, Tess. If he pulls
any more crap like this, not just this, but anything, I will not be
silent.” She left, to hopefully find some hospital-grade
disinfectant and a blowtorch to open up my combination lock.

Ellie returned with some paper towels, and
Spray and Wipe detergent she procured from the school cleaner under
the strict promise it was not to be used as an ingredient for
anything explosive and returned ASAP. I made some leeway by finding
a stick and slowly peeled off the regurgitated, slimy mucus blob
that sat directly on my combination lock. It was then I heard Ellie
dry retching into her hand, turning away. Such help. I chucked the
chocolatey stick in the bin and went to console Ellie, her colour
drained from her face.

“You alright?” I couldn’t help but laugh as I
patted her on the back. She couldn’t form words as the chunks
threatened to rise.

Animated whistling closed in at a brisk pace
(a sound I would recognise anywhere) and Adam waltzed in. His
relaxed, calm demeanour didn’t say, “I’m hightailing it to class
because I am fifteen minutes late”; instead, his surprise
registered as he rounded the corner of the locker room to see me
and Ellie kneeling on the linoleum by my locker, Ellie’s face
hovering over the wheelie bin.

His eyes narrowed from Ellie’s sweat-beaded
face to mine. “What’s wrong?”

Before I could answer, Adam’s gaze moved
beyond us and paused on the splatterfest that was my locker. The
steely look of fury that had surfaced in Ellie earlier now
travelled through Adam. He looked back at me and with a deep, calm
breath he came to stand beside us to survey the damage.

“One guess,” he bit out.

“Yep!” I turned to re-evaluate the situation.
The sight hadn’t improved much, even with the gooey blob on the
lock gone.

Without another word, Adam dropped his
backpack to the floor, wrenched the zip open and delved into the
contents.

“You don’t happen to have a pressure washer
on you, by any chance?” I mused.

He ignored me; Adam was on a mission. I could
tell by the crinkle in his brow that all too quickly vanished as he
found what he was looking for.

He pulled out …

“A banana? Seriously?” He was an odd boy.

“Urgh. Adam, how can you eat at a time like
this?” Ellie cringed.

Adam peeled back the yellow folds, biting a
big chunk out, and chewed vigorously, raising his brows in a
‘hubba-hubba’ motion. He then walked over towards … oh no.

“Adam?”

He fell short just before Scott’s locker and
offered us his best winning smile as he swallowed his mouthful. He
held the banana in the air like it was some talisman, some holy
grail.

“Ladies, I give you the banana.” With that,
Adam smashed it against Scott’s locker, smearing it in a vast
sweeping motion. The mushy, granulated chunks were thoroughly
mashed into the crevices of his combination lock. And Adam did this
all while humming a joyous tune. He then hooked the banana peel
through the lock loop; it dangled like a motley alien form.

Ellie laughed, sat back on her heels away
from the bin and clapped her hands, colour finally returning to her
face just as it drained from mine.

“Adam, what are you doing?” I was part
horrified, and part in awe of his heroic gesture.

Adam stood back, hand on chin in deep thought
as he admired his handiwork. “It will have to do! I’m really
regretting not grabbing that chocolate Yo-Go this morning. That
would have gone on real nice.”

“Please, no more chocolate,” Ellie
begged.

Adam dusted off his hands, “Well, best get
crack-a-lackin. Wouldn’t want anyone to think this was some sort of
act of revenge or anything.”

“You know who they are going to blame,
right?” I pointed to myself with double fingers. “Ah, hello.”

“Don’t worry about Snotty,” Adam
reassured.

“Besides, we can be your bodyguards,” Ellie
added.

“Well, either I’m going to need to sleep with
one eye open, or you two will have to take shifts in watching over
me so that I’m not murdered in my bed.”

“Not a problem. I already climb into your
room every night and watch you sleep, anyway,” Adam winked.

“Pfft, dream on!”

Adam’s wicked smile broadened. “Oh, but I
do.”

“Urrgh. If I wasn’t going to spew before, I
am now.” Ellie rubbed her stomach.

I playfully sprayed Ellie with disinfectant,
causing her to scream and leap to her feet, dodging behind Adam.
She grabbed his shoulders and held him for ransom. He faked fear.
“No, please, anything but that!”

I did a fake-out squeeze and they both
winced, which had me giggling with evil pleasure. This went on for
a few more minutes, dodging and screaming until Adam spotted the
chocolate-covered stick protruding from the wheelie bin. I could
see the cogs turning in his mind and they weren’t just any cogs;
they were evil cogs.

“Don’t you dare!”

His smile was wicked; he deliberately watched
my reaction as he picked it up.

“
Adam
!”

“Bwahahahaha!” He chased me around the locker
room with the vile mucus-choco stick. It was a good thing that the
locker room was set far away from the main school building; there
was no fear our shouts would unveil our lateness to class. There
was no controlling the fact that we were laughing so hard we could
barely breathe.

Adam and I spent the next ten minutes
spraying and scrubbing my locker while Ellie watched with a
horrified expression from across the room. Adam worked on my lock
as I wiped down my door.

“What’s your combo, McGee?”

I raised my eyebrows. “As if I would tell
you.”

He sighed. “Relax, I’m not going to send you
love poetry, I’m just going to see if it works.”

I finished the last wipe and gave him a
pointed look. “You are totally going to send me love poetry.”

“Pfft, dream on!”

I slapped his shoulder and clenched my chest
in mockery. “Oh, but I do.”

Third period and I was a prisoner in double
English.

I prayed that Scott didn’t need to go to his
locker between classes. My heart pounded against my rib cage, and
my hands were clammy as I watched the agonisingly slow tick of the
clock above Mrs Romano’s desk. Would Adam’s actions start an
all-out war? I already thanked the timetable Gods that Scott was
not in my English class.

My plan was simple: hightail it to the locker
room, grab my stuff and be gone before Scott even noticed his
redecorated locker. Then I would just avoid him for the rest of the
year. Which sounds totally hard, but wouldn’t be considering there
were only three days left of school. By then we would all be
cheering ‘School’s out for Summer’, Alice Cooper style.

Three days; three … more … days.

A wad of paper landed next to my hand, and I
flinched, for more than one reason. Luckily, English was pretty
safe, no horsemen of the apocalypse in this class, which made it a
welcome refuge. I secretly unfolded the crinkled paper under my
desk.

You smell like Spray and Wipe.

My mouth twitched as I glanced sideways to
where Adam sat, two people across. I met his devilish eyes, and he
grimaced dramatically.

I discreetly eyed Mrs Romano, sitting on her
desk at the front of the class, eyes downcast, animatedly reading
aloud from her text. I scribbled my reply and did the tap down the
line to pass it along. Like a lady would. I focused intently on the
book I was meant to be following along with, knowing that I
wouldn’t be able to contain myself as I envisioned the raise of
Adam’s brows as he read my reply.

What’s that, banana man?

It went back and forth for the remainder of
the class, which I was grateful for as it made the time fly. Once
the bell rang, I was jolted into the cold, harsh reality that
awaited me.

Lunchtime.

I didn’t even think to wait for Adam or
Ellie; I was too focused on running to the locker room and praying
that the combination of detergent and boy cooties hadn’t jammed up
my lock. Adam had tested and opened it easily enough; surely it
would be okay? I dodged and weaved through the thickening flow of
bodies down the hall, cursing the distance between my locker and
the English room as I got stuck behind a group of giggling Year
Seven girls. I burst through the doors and quickstepped down the
stairs. I heard the distant yell of “No running!” from Mr Hood, but
I had to risk it. Detention would seem like a holiday camp compared
to facing off with my ex.

After tripping over my foot and dropping a
textbook, I inelegantly made an entrance into the locker room.
There were not many people in there, but the few who were there
were laughing, crowded around Scott’s locker which had been
marinating in banana for the past sixty minutes.

I ignored them and made a beeline for my
locker with enough time to unload my books, grab my bag, and hide
in a bush for the rest of the day. I froze, my sparkling padlock in
my hand. What the hell was my combination? My mind had gone
completely blank. Panic set in as more students flooded the room
and saw Scott’s locker. I bit my lip. No, no, no … I looked up,
finding the eyes of Kim Munzel, the resident grunge girl of our
year, on me. Her green, scary eyes were caked with heavy make-up
that was partly covered by a gel-sleeked jagged fringe – the
longest part of her crudely short haircut. She seldom spoke and
when she did, it was with a bad attitude. So why was she smiling at
me?

She grabbed her bag and walked up to me, her
dog chain clinking on her low-rise baggy jeans. I turned my
attention back to my lock, pretending that it was the most
interesting thing in the world. At that point in time it really
was.

What was the bloody number?

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Kim
had stopped next to me.

“Hey.”

I glanced around. Was she talking to me? Oh
God. Yes, she was looking right at me.

“Hey,” I said in a small voice.

“Did you do that?” Her head nodded towards
Scott’s locker, which was now semi-circled by a crowd.

Before I could get my thoughts together
enough to form a coherent sentence, her smile tilted to form an
evil grin.

“Nice job.” Her scary eyes looked me over as
if giving me a seal of approval, and then she left. So. Weird. The
crowd peeled back to allow her through. She had that kind of
effect. The locker room was now full of students; a mad hub of
activity for the lunchtime rush.

Oh God!
I fumbled madly with my lock,
guessing combinations in a frenzied effort. Scott would be here any
moment. I turned the dial and tugged in desperation as if I was
MacGyver and this was the last chance to crack the code before the
bomb went off. Some people asked themselves: ‘What would Jesus
do?’, but I always asked myself: ‘What would MacGyver do?’ MacGyver
would probably be able to pick the lock with a crusty,
chocolate-covered stick. I’m sure he could.

TUG! TUG! TUG!

I thudded my head against the locker; it
smelt like disinfectant and was probably cleaner now than it had
been in the past decade of use by past students.

I felt hot breath blow into my ear as a voice
whispered, “4-3-2-5-9-6.” I jumped, spinning around to see a
laughing Adam.

“Geez, McGee, jumpy much?”

“432596! My combination! Oh, praise sweet
baby Jesus.” I turned the dial and heard the magical click of
freedom; it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. Which
was ironic considering it was counterbalanced with the most
horrible sound I could have heard right then: Scott’s angry voice.
Oh crap!

“What the …?” his voice trailed off as he
closed the distance towards his locker. The crowd parted eagerly.
They’d been waiting for this moment; their eyes darted from him to
me and back again. Just as I feared, you wouldn’t have to be a
rocket scientist to figure out they would assume it was me. I
swallowed hard, fighting the urge to throw up.

Adam stood stock-still beside me, silently
taking in the scene. I felt the press of someone on my left. Ellie
had appeared from thin air and was at my side. If it weren’t for my
bookend buddies, I feared my legs would give out. I slowly turned
to my open locker; best not to stare. While I pretended
indifference, I heard him yell out to me.

“Oh yeah. Nice one, Tess,” he sneered.

I did my best ‘I’m bored’ look from my
locker. Scott stood next to his. Wow, if looks could kill. He was
flanked by nervous-looking buddies, who were slowly opening their
own lockers. Some friends they were, none of them even offering to
get him a paper towel.