Unzip Me - boyxboy

1 - Cinematic

Hello and welcome to Unzip Me!

A version of this story was posted to my old profile, but I wanted to recreate and rework it on this one.

Please note for those who have already read this story: a LOT has changed. I've decided to go with a different, more "mature" style of writing for this one. Also, the timelines are a bit different and some details have changed. This will still extend to 2 books, possibly 3. The chapters are also going to be a bit shorter, but more dense.

Other than that, enjoy!

***

Chapter 1: Cinematic

And just like that, by the sudden tilt of the Earth or misalignment of the stars, my day had just gotten that much more shit.

If it were possible to astonishingly disappear in wizard-like fashion - and poof, be gone - I wouldn’t still be here.

I held onto the lock like the claw of a machine. My grip was feeble and loose, having lost all leverage. Turn it. The claw was frozen. Just turn it. But the machine continued to malfunction. I could hear his breathing.  

I tightened my grip.

The tiny, circular lock could barely tip a scale, and yet, the five-point finger system held stiff enough to hold up the entire row of lockers. The sheer weight of it had potential enough take my shoulder. It was all so heavy. With the gears of the claw machine slowly beginning to click again, I felt oil drip. Turn... I told myself. Black grease was leaking. My clothes began to stain.

Just turn.  

19...25… malfunction!  I glared up at the metal locker with disdain. The stupid paint was chipping and rust had laid siege along the edges. It wasn't my locker; mine hadn't begun to chip yet. And it wasn't in my best interest to try and open this one. Not because of the paint or rust, (although I was partly comforted in knowing I had already received a tetanus shot), but because the bell had already rung. How long had it been since everyone was summoned to their respective classrooms? Ten minutes, at least. I’d been standing here for about eight of those minutes, and the fuse in my brain’s wiring had to have been shorting out for about seven of those minutes.

So why was I here? There wasn't anything I personally needed inside the rusty, chipped locker. Notebooks overflowing with arithmetic or perhaps chemistry jargon in cursive writing… each blue line with something complicated and alien scribbled underneath them, each margin cramped with tidbits…

A mirror with a flimsy, lime-green border - if I remembered correctly, which I’d seen a few times… always reflecting the fluorescents in the hallway back against her pale skin…

The fruit-scented perfume I liked was possibly in there too… Tropical Mist, was it? No, it was more like Hawaiian Breeze… maybe it was both... I mean, she collected tubes of lip gloss like pokemon cards, pinks and reds and purples of different shades and levels of stickiness... Pencils, pens, mascara, binders, kleenex, toothpicks, thumbtacks, and… her girly products… were all in there. Nothing of mild importance to me.

But here I was, late for class without any personal gain to show for it. Sure, it was the sentiment that mattered; she had asked me to hurry down and pick up what she’d been hiding, hadn't she? Me. How long she’s had the shit or for how long she was hiding it wasn’t something I knew… and how could I? Her logic was far beyond a mere mortal’s comprehension.

She’s always been a knockout in the classroom. To call her a freaking genius was an insult to 4.0 students worldwide; each course and subject she tackled ended up limping off the field with broken bones and snapped tendons. With the brightest eyes, but the deadliest vocabulary, she made instructors question the integrity of their teaching degrees. She was so intelligent...and yet, here I was… sent to pick up something that didn't meet any of her symptoms. She was intelligent. She was attentive. She was focused. But the amount of late nights up studying and preparing to perfection couldn't have been achieved through sheer will power alone; she needed assistance.