I Wish That You Knew My Name {mxm} | Love is Love

2; Wait, What?

   Dedicated to the beautiful AsToldByFeb for her continued love and support! 

After taking my school bag off its hook in my locker, I slung it over my shoulder and closed the metal door. My fingers quickly found my trusty combination lock (which I got for $4.99 in freshman year; suck it, Brad and your $10 piece of scrap) and I slid it through the catch. Only satisfied after I heard a click, I walked towards the stairwell that would bring me closest to the cafeteria. As I passed through the hall, I went by about a dozen couples making out and groping each other against their lockers. Actually, they may not have even been theirs.

I glanced back to make sure my locker hadn't miraculously opened on its own. Call me crazy, but one could say I developed some sort of paranoia around locker security back in freshman year. The reason for it is because of a very traumatic experience; the theft of my lunch money and 14-year-old me's lifeline. Long story short, in the first few weeks after my transfer to this school, I pretty much refused to use a lock. Was this stupid? Yes, because I did in fact own one, but at the time I thought not locking my locker would make me a badass (even in theory, my idea sucked). I felt like a hot shot for about 5 minutes. Or, well, maybe three weeks.

One day during lunch, one of the seniors that had a locker in my hall decided to teach me a lesson by snooping through my bag. They stole a $20 bill and my MP3 player. The money wasn't a huge deal because I had a job babysitting 10-dollar-lock-kid Brad, and I was paid $15 an hour. But my MP3 player?! I cried myself to sleep that night. 

That was why I always made sure everything was locked up before going anywhere: class, cafeteria, or the library. Some days, when I'd feel extra paranoid, I would circle around back to my locker at least once more before leaving for good. Too much? Yes, but I was taught from a young age that it was better to be safe than sorry; may as well be extra safe, right? And now that I carried around important things like a debit card, driver's licence, phone, and cash, I wanted to make sure no one takes anything. I tended to need that kind of stuff.

I was brought back to reality when I tripped on the lift before the stairwell, but I caught myself before it was too late. I glanced around to make sure no one had seen. Taking a deep breath and brushing myself off, I carried on down the stairs. I only needed to go down two flights, though I hated being in the stairwell. It constantly smelled like piss or marijuana. Or, on days like today, both. Dismissing the odd scents, I jogged down the stairs (which was most of my daily physical activity), and reached for the door handle. It was wet.

Had there not been a group of nasty-looking girls on the other side, their eyes filled with their expectation for me to hold the door for them, I would have recoiled and cursed. However, my mother raised me right (well, kinda), and I opened the metal door with a forced smile on my face as the girls passed me by. I don't even want to know why this is wet, I thought as I pulled the door open and continued through to the second floor.

My pace was steady as I kept my head down, hearing giggles and comments all around me. I didn't take the time to acknowledge whether or not they were directed at me; I couldn't really care less. I am who I am, and I accepted that, for the most part. If others don't, then whatever, right?

The sound of hundreds of of voices hit me like a wall, before the smell of B.O. and pizza did, as I turned the corner into the cafeteria. The room was huge, though the amount of people that were packed in made it look smaller. The walls were white with the school's logo, a hamster (threatening, I know), painted on the North wall. Long tables were laid out in rows, from front to back. Besides two perpendicular paths that divided the room in four even quarters,  there wasn't very much room to get around. Somewhere against each wall was a microwave station, which was always in use no matter the time. To add to what was already cluttered, there was the madness of about 300 students.