Stuck in a School

Sticky Steve

It's not like I planned for this to happen. I never did, I swear! It wasn't like I didn't apologize.... Sort of...

Okay. Fine. I admit I did sort of majorly fuck up. I can admit that to myself. I'm a mature adult, right? Maybe not legally, but an adult at heart. I'll have everyone know that I, Maggy Fu, am wise beyond my years. Nobody can come against me and my unbelievably wise—responsible—life decisions. No one.

Besides, it's not like he can lock me in here all night. Not even Sticky Steve—our school janitor—will be able to get away with what basically amounts to the kidnapping of a teenager... I think. At least, I hope he isn't. This just goes to show how much faith our education system's security measures inspire. While It, admittedly, isn't half bad on its own, nobody can stop Sticky Steve when he decides to dish his retribution... Legend has it that he locked our principle, Mrs. Kate, in a supply closet with the lights off for four hours after she joked about this one kid for their weight. They say that nobody testified on Mrs. Kate's behalf out of respect for Sticky Steve's act of justice—or it could just be fear that the same fate would befall them. Either way, Mrs. Kate never tried anything remotely similar again. Nobody I know of had the guts to approach Sticky Steve about the incident, and Steve isn't the type to address the gossip directly. I believe that—judging from the way he would mop a little more elegantly around whispering students—he secretly revels in the attention. Not a lot of school janitors are capable of earning the sterling reputation he boasts.

Which would probably explain why he felt obligated to lock me in the school building the first chance he got. I shifted uncomfortably upon remembering the simple note I had received in my locker: Come to the school at seven p.m. Enter through the unlocked gym door. You know what you did. —S.S.

Fun. Hooray. Everybody knows not to resist retribution, especially from Sticky Steve. Plus, it's not like I had anything to do at home what with my parents away on some work trip they'll probably get back from in a day or two and left-overs in the fridge that I'm not exactly starving for. So here I am; welcome to the home of the Snow-people–I like to think of us as warrior Snow-people—where the janitor once locked the school principle in a supply closet with no repercussions because she made a kid cry. Really says a lot about our society. Yup, things aren't looking too great for me...

In my defense, it had looked really funny in my head. The fifth-graders coming to visit were so clueless; I couldn't stop myself. Plus, I've been looking for an opportunity to use my home-grown slug army. How was I supposed to know that a wimpy kid would lose all their tiny shits over the significantly tinier Mr. and Mrs. Snotters? Seriously, children are sheep. As soon as one starts screaming, the others follow suit. The chaos that ensued was well worth it, though.

Am I a sadist? Yes. Do I care? Eh. Debatable, I suppose.

I look around at these walls I've known for a good three years—a quarter of my lifespan—and think to myself: What happened? What have I been doing with my life? Why am I here, at the school? Well, I know the answer to that, but still. How did Sticky Steve even know I would follow his instructions? The green and yellow of our school colors glare back at me in the low lighting, mocking me. (Why do schools keep the lights on after closing anyway? What a waste of money and electricity. Its no wonder we can't afford extra basketballs.)

Maybe I should go back to the gym... How long is he going to keep me in here? Six hours? The entire night?

Is he even allowed to do that? I mean, it might be fun if I had a friend (ha) to participate in this unconventional sleepover with me. We could raid the school together, destroy all the homework, etc. From the looks of things so far, though,—AKA the empty cafeteria, classrooms, and restrooms I've checked—I'm the only one here. Aside, of course, from Sticky Steve. I hope. If he locked me in and then left, I swear I'll—

"Hey."