The Night We Met

Chapter One: The Locker Room

Teresa shoved Salem from behind against the lockers of the locker room, knocking the wind out of her, causing her cough. It was after gym class and the teachers weren't anywhere to be seen since after the fourth period was lunch. 

Salem attempted to shove her notebook into her bag before anyone saw it. Of course, it didn't happen that way. Teresa reached down and grabbed it. Salem pushed her straight red hair from her face and tried to stand up, but got kicked in the shin. 

Flipping through the pages, Teresa ripped the stories out, one by one. While she was reading the words, Salem stood up and shoved Teresa as hard as her 120-pound self could. She stumbled back and tripped over her own feet. 

Salem gathered the pages that were on the floor and tucked them back into the notebook. Teresa gathered her wits and tried to hit Salem again. Salem used her martial arts lessons and blocked her punch. 

"God," she said. "Why can't you leave me alone?" She breathed deeply, relishing the art of breathing normally again. 

"You're a witch."

Salem scoffed and grabbed her bag. "I'm not a fucking witch," she said and pointed the destroyed journal at the brown-haired girl. "But I am something that rhymes with it." She walked out of the locker room and touched her eye. She winced and knew that it was going to darken to a bruise later. 

The pink lockers lined the junior hallway and inspirational posters like, "See something, say something," and, "If you want the rainbows, you have to deal with the rain," littered the walls. The school was like a psychedelic druggie on an acid trip. 

The football team crowded around Tobias's locker, congratulating him on the recent game. He ran his fingers through his idiotic brown hair and looked as if he would rather be anywhere else. He made eye contact with Salem, and she promptly lifted her third finger for him and turned into her English class. 

"Good morning, Salem," Mrs. Pantouli greeted. "Oh my goodness. What happened to your face?" 

Salem sighed and adjusted her bag. "I had an incident in gym class." She shoved a piece of bubblegum into her mouth. "It's nothing. Trust me, Mrs Pantouli, I handled it." She took her seat in the second row, towards the left side of the classroom. 

Mrs. Pantouli glanced wearily at Teresa as she walked into the classroom, but didn't say anything. Teresa made an effort to make sure Salem saw her glare. Salem tipped back in her chair and fluttered her fingers at her, blowing a bubble in her gum.

Salem doodled spider-webs on the edge of her paper as the class droned on. 

"Please have your final books in by this evening," Mrs. Pantouli lectured. "You've had all semester to work on them. And a reminder, they must be at least 10,000 words and bound together. I don't want to see another stapled assignment in this class."

A wad of paper landed on Salem's desk. She unwrapped it and a note was scribbled in Teresa's cursive handwriting: Witch, bitch, what's the difference.

Salem uncapped her Sharpie and popped another bubble. 

"Mrs. Pantouli?" Teresa asked as she raised her hand. 

"What, Teresa?" 

She pointed at Salem's bubblegum. "She's chewing gum. You said that's not allowed."

Salem stared at Teresa and raised her eyebrows. Mrs. Plantouli planted her gaze on Salem. "Are you chewing gum? she asked. 

"No," she lied. "I hate gum." She blew another bubble. "Can't stand it."

Mrs. Plantouli smiled. "Well then, I don't see a problem," and she went back to lecturing. 

Salem finished the note and handed it back to Teresa. 

It said: Maybe if you opened a book now and again, you would know.

The announcement intercom came on and Salem rested her chin in her hand as she doodled. 

"Attention, East Shore's High School for Above Average Students," it droned on. "English teachers, please don't forget to start the new lesson today. Top three winners will have their projects submitted for a chance to win a prize." Then it went dead. 

"Ah yes," Mrs. Plantouli sighed. "We will be starting a new unit about the Salem Witch Trials."

The class laughed and thought up their best insults, throwing them at Salem, who stared blankly at the paper, suppressing her eye roll. 

"Settle down," she warned. "The three students in the school with the best projects will go to the Regional Art Show with the other students from other high schools. First, second, and third place will win prizes."

The bell rang and students rustled their things into their bag, standing up to leave. 

"Read chapters 1-4 tonight," she instructed. "You might actually learn something if you do."

Salem had one period left, but it was history, so she ditched and went to the coffee shop, Imesso Espresso. They had amazing grilled cheese and hot chocolate. Salem had worked and lived there since she was fourteen. Her mom left her alone when she was ten, and Salem lived on the streets for years. One day, Atticus found her. He was twenty and she was fourteen. He brought her back to the cafe and offered her the apartment above it. She worked there every day after school and Atticus was like her overprotective brother. 

"What are you doing home so early?" Atticus asked her as she walked in. 

Atticus was flamboyantly gay with a single freckle above his eyebrow. He was Latino, six-foot, and ran five miles every morning. He was also completely ridiculous. 

Salem tied on her apron and tossed him his keys. "I wanted to leave early and I'm way ahead in history class because I'm.. well, me." She looked and the sandwich and hot chocolate on the counter. "You knew I was going to come home early?" 

He shrugged. "Possibly." He handed her an order. "Make this, and you are going to get in trouble if you keep ditching."

Salem spat her gum in the trash and pulled her hair into a ponytail. "No, I won't," she said. "All of my teachers love me and even if I turned in no work, I would probably still pass."

He cracked open a Rolling Rock and took a long sip. "That makes no sense."

She called out the order and served the drink. "Yes it does," she said. "I take my tests and I go out of my way to be nice to my teachers, even if I don't like them. Once you are on the good side of a teacher, you can get away with almost anything."

The rest of the day was slow, so Salem was not complaining when Atticus let her leave early. She pulled the wrinkled pages from her bag and tried to flatten them. Atticus came up to her apartment. "Yo, Sal."

"Hey, Atticus." She sighed and stared at the papers before taping them back together her years worth of work. 

"What happened?"

"Teresa decided she didn't like my writing, obviously."

"You need a break."

She glanced at him. "I just started," she said mindlessly. 

Atticus took the scotch tape away from her. "Salem. You'll be up all night working on this. You can't overwork yourself. It's not healthy."

Salem glanced at him. "Fine. What would you like me to do instead?"

"Let's grab a bite." He buttoned his plaid blazer. "Then we can go to a bookstore and get some new reading material."