The Boy in my Locker SERIAL STORY

CHAPTER 5: OTHELLO-3

Charlie’s shriek echoed through the hallway, bouncing off the corklike tiles on the ceiling, bounding along the locker-bay and into the bewildered ears of the entire fourth and fifth-grade population.

My skin leaped from my bones as I screamed, as well. Inside my locker—inside my mirror—was the reflection of—Charlie.

Charlie?

A piggish snort burst out of his nose, followed by a subtle laugh.

“That’s not funny!” I slapped Charlie on the shoulder and tapped the reflective plastic.

“What?” Charlie pushed me to the side and posed in front of the mirror, pretending to fix his hair and smooth out his eyebrows. He giggled again and then closed the door. “Come on Aubrey. There’s no one there. Great joke, by the way. Who told you about DM?”

I didn’t answer.

Where did he go? I opened the locker again, peeling the mirror from the door. My heart raced.

Am I losing it? Have I finally lost my marbles?

Charlie poked me on the arm.

“Seriously, how did you know about DM?”

I turned the mirror over, analyzing the back and sides.

I saw him. I know I did.

“Earth to Aubrey. Earth to Aubrey. DM? Do you know what that is?”

“No.”

Charlie shook his head and disappeared back into class. I tapped the mirror again. “Hello?”

Nothing.

“Where did you go? Boy? Boy in my locker?” I shook the door. “Strange, alien boy? Are you there?” I sucked in the sweaty air and checked one last time for any updates with the zit I had on my chin. I mean, who gets zits when they’re ten?

I turned away, closed the door, and prepared myself for my return to Ms. Stanbrow’s boring Social Studies Class. I hated Social Studies.

“Are you okay?” a voice chimed out from the walls. “Are you available to talk?”

I swung the locker open. The strange boy peered out at me through his awkward goggles—

through my lowly plastic mirror.

I scanned the hallway. Left.

Right.

“Yes,” I replied. “We can talk.”

“I need your he-help.” The boy coughed and slipped away from sight.

“Hello?” I tapped the mirror. “Are you there?”

He returned again, wiping the dirt from his face. “I’m here. I’m here. But not for long. We need to get to your planet.”

I stepped back from the locker and inhaled slowly. “Yeah about that. You mentioned that yesterday as well. What exactly do you mean by, ‘planet’? Like, as in, my school? Are you calling my school, a planet?”

“No,” the boy replied. “That’s not what I mean. I’m in Quadrant Nine, sub-section Q. Our planet is collapsing. We need to get to you.”

“Is this some kinda joke? Seriously. Why are you saying this?” I scanned the ceiling and walls for cameras or wires. He had to be pulling my leg.

The boy tapped the inside of the mirror—his bright blue eyes glowed in the hazy darkness that surrounded him. “Are you listening to me? This is not a joke. My friends and I are trying to save what is left of Othello-3. Our planet is Othello-3, I’m in Quadrant Nine, sub-section Q. Please tell your leaders we need help.”

“My leaders? Like Ms. Stanbrow?”

The boy wiped his goggles again and nodded. “Yes, yes. Is Ms. Stanbrow the commander and chief?” I shrugged. “I guess. And maybe, Mr. Meebly as well. He teaches me music.”

The floor vibrated, sending a wave of energy up my legs and into my head. The lights hummed and brightened.

“Can you please notify your Commander that we need immediate assistance? Do you want me to repeat my location again? Do you have something to record this information? 43.3° North, 79.7° West, Quadrant Nine, sub-section Q. Othello-3.” I threw my hands up. “Hold on, hold on.”

The boy leaned into the mirror. “Okay. I’ll wait for you to get a recorder.”

“No, no. That’s not what I meant. Are you telling me you’re from another planet?”

“Yes. Yes, I am from another planet. We are at forty-three point three—”

“Okay, okay. I got it. Stop telling me a bunch of stuff I’ve never heard of before. You sound like Charlie.”

The boy touched the mirror. “I don’t know who Charlie is, but if you don’t help me, I’m going to die. And all of my friends are going to die.” He gazed at me as if I was the only chance he had.

I reached out to the mirror and touched his hand. “I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know what to do.”

A blast of warm air spread out over my face. The rows of lockers wavered and rattled. The ground gave way, dropping me into a void of darkness.

My body twisted and pulled in all directions. I tried to scream, but nothing came out.

Like a heavy blanket wrapped around every part of my body, every limb, every muscle, I felt an odd comfort in the midst of confusion.

Seconds passed. Maybe minutes. A faint light appeared, moving toward me as I escaped into a black tunnel of nothingness.

Every vein, every joint pulsated.

I now stood on an uneven floor—or ground—or something. Black dust and ashes filled the air, trapping me—trapping me inside a selfish, two-faced—volcano.

“Where am I?” I said. My vision immediately blurred. “What’s going on?”

To be continued April 24.

We need to get to your planet.