Celia

I

It all started when Megan – also known as the worst friend in the universe, and believe me I have experienced enough of the universe to tell you that this is no lie – broke my bag.

I really liked my bag. It was one of those backpack things that everybody at our school had, and it was a nice non-distinct cream colour, with buttery brown straps. It had a zip-up pocket on the inside that could actually hold my phone, earphones and keys (not that I ever kept them in there, preferring to keep them in my blazer pockets), and my art folder fitted in no problem.

You can see why I was so upset when it broke.

Every Friday me and Megan have R.E fourth period; right before lunch. So every Friday, I took our bags up to our form room whilst Megan waited in the lunch queue. That is, every Friday until Megan got the hugest crush on Taylor Camden - who was a) completely dorky and b) tragically straight - who was normally there dumping her own bag around that time.

In the hopes of one day plucking up the courage to exchange more than two syllables with her, she’d taken to being the bag carrier and I’d been delegated to the role of placeholder.

So, when we walked out of R.E on yet another typical Friday, digging the loose change from the bottom of our bags and trying not to get squished in the crowd, I entrusted the care of my bag to Megan, not realising that this was the first in a chain of events that almost caused me to break the universe.

(But we’ll get to that bit later.)

Megan took ages, which in retrospect was probably the first sign something was wrong. I guess I assumed she’d finally managed to get Taylor talking, so I just bought my lunch and went to talk with Katie and Isabel from my maths class.

Anyway, I was just standing there when Megan came running up, holding what looked like a pile of ripped fabric in her arms. A pile of cream and brown coloured fabric which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be my bag.

“Oh my god,” Was the first thing I said, and I can only imagine what my face looked like. “What even happened? I mean, how on earth…?”

“I have no idea Ceely,” She stuttered, staring at the bag like she was terrified of it. “Honestly, I really don’t understand, I just… I was just walking and then it felt like…”

“Felt like what?” I tried to suppress the frustration I was feeling, but it didn’t quite work. Megan just shook her head, holding out the remains of my bag to me like it was some kind of ticking time bomb. She was still giving it that weary look.

“It felt like…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Everything felt super surreal, like how when you’re dreaming and you know that you’re asleep no matter how real everything feels. The shock of seeing my bag in ruin was wearing off, and I could feel myself starting to get annoyed. All my stuff was in there – pencil case, textbooks, planner. Luckily my art folder was at home, but I doubted any of the teachers would be impressed that I’d somehow managed to destroy all my work.

“Megan.” I forced out from between gritted teeth. “My bag looks like it went through a super shredder. What. On. Earth. Did. You. Do?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” She protested hurriedly, shaking her head. “I was walking up to form, and I felt like this, this…weird sort of wind just appeared, and the next thing I knew was that your bag just…” At this, she gestured to what was left of my bag.

I tried to stay calm. I really, really did.

“So you’re telling me that in the middle of a hallway – a hallway indoors - some sort of magical ‘wind’ just appeared out of nowhere and completely destroyed only my bag.” I hissed, disbelief seeping from every word.