An 80's tale of a blue without a clue.

Locker issues.

         He was the shortest boy in his grade and was probably one that stood out amongst the others. Standing at 5'6 with his fashion and outgoing personality, he always had eyes on him wherever he went. Not that they were always good eyes, sometimes they were dreadful stares that burnt holes into his frame amongst it all but he was a tough one inside, never letting it truly kill his light. Today He wore a grey hoodie, a yellow, plaid cap, black jeans and a yellow, red plaid cape that draped around his shoulders and hung past his waist. Dusty, dirty, reddish blonde hair laid shaggy upon his head as he sat in his desk writing away in the AP English class he absolutely hated because of the fact he was always picked on for being in all the 'smart' classes. He would never admit he actually genuinely loved the extra assignments, the novels they read and discussions they had in class given that could rain hell into his life even more so than it already does. He already didn't have many friends as it was but he had a specific one who had been with him since kindergarten never to leave his side. He treasured that boy with all of his being given he was always there when he needed him.

     He was so lost in his writing he didn't even realize the bell had rang announcing to each student that one more vile hour of school had passed and it was time to switch to their 4th periods in the day. The teacher, Mrs Vath gently tapped him on his yellow cape he wore and his eyes shifted to her soft features. "Jinho, I do love how you enjoy this class so much as to not want to leave but the bell rang." She teased him politely as she always did that year, winking at the end to make sure he truly knew she was only just messing about. Sometimes he wasn't the best at licking up social cues and she knew that, so she was always one to double check to make sure he never took anything to heart. A slight smile was place onto his lips when his gaze went to the clock, back to her. "I am sorry, I guess I was lost in the writing." He responded as he began to frantically pack up his items not daring to be late to his next hour where he would be the center of attention. He always hated it when focus was placed onto him so he always avoided it at all costs. When he put his binder into his back the sound of a chip bag that was being crunched around lingered in the air and his cheeks turned red. Everywhere he went he always had food, especially his cheddar cheese chips. They were his favorite and he never knew when he was going to be hungry next so why not? As soon as his items were packed safely inside his back he flung it over his left shoulder securing the strap with his hand.

     He proceeded to walk towards the light, brown, classroom door that was propped open from the previous students descend. Tapping the top of the doors frame, he entered the no longer crowded hallway given he had already wasted two minutes of his passing period time. With a huff of air being released from his lungs in disappointment at the thought of being late, he turned to the left making his way quickly to his locker that was about fifty feet away. His shoes pressed against the dirty tile below radiating a small squeak with each step. They were brand new shoes and had yet to be broke in but he could not stand the squeak. It was equivalent to taking two pieces of styrofoam and rubbing them against each-other, how annoying could it get? His eyes frantically searched around him to make sure no one was staring nor making their way towards him for the sake of time and knowing a specific someone usually always was looking for him as a target. His nervous fiddling began picking at the hems of his hoodie as he sped up his pace to reach his locker sooner. 

      Finally he reached his locker with the number 148. His delicate fingertips took ahold of the lock and began to fiddle with the combination until the small 'tick' sounded and the lock popped open allowing his locker door to swing open. Frantically he looked for his algebra book but couldn't seem to find it anywhere within the rusted, yellowish, metal 'Book jailhouse' as his best friend called it. Just before he could let out another huff of air from his lungs a tall, dark haired male placed his back against the metal locker next to his own holding up a Calculus book. "Looking for this?"