Short Story Collection

"Harmless" Pranks

"Oh come on Wyatt! It's just a harmless prank. How bad could it be?" Next to him, Wyatt's friend Cam shoved him lightly and put an arm around him. "How on Earth could this possibly get out of hand? You're overthinking this. We'll just slip the note into her locker, she'll come to the art room, we'll lock the door, and then it's done!" Wyatt was still hesitant. For the last few days, as if life knew what Wyatt was about to do, he had began to see Bridgett more and more around school. The way that she smiled, the way that she never failed to say "good morning" to him every day when she sat next to him in class, it made Wyatt feel guilty. But he couldn't stand up to his friends. That was the problem. "Hey, Wyatt." Wyatt looked up. In front of him, a tall boy with a black jacket held out the letter that would sell his soul. "Don't fail us." He said. Wyatt clenched the letter, and soon he was left alone in the cafeteria, watching his friends walk away laughing.

The shrill sound of the bell rang, and Wyatt took his position by Bridgett's locker. I can't believe I'm doing this he thought. He knew she would come by anytime, she always came by her locker after school to get her choir music. When nobody was looking he slipped the letter inside the small window on the locker door and bolted, ashamed at what he'd done. He ran to the fine arts hallway, where Cam and the other kid with the black jacket stood smirking. "Good job Wyatt. I'm proud of you! Jacob here thought that you weren't up for the task, but we sure proved him wrong!" Cam gave Wyatt a triumphant nudge in the shoulder and the Jacob kid stood scowling. "How long do you think until she gets here?" Wyatt asked. "She's a teacher's pet, so ten minutes at max." Cam said, leaning against the wall. "Why are we doing this exactly?" Wyatt dared to ask. "Why?" Jacob loomed over Wyatt, and with distaste in his words, said "Aren't we warranted to have a little fun Squeak?" Trying to be brave Wyatt crossed his arm and put on a tough expression, hoping that it masked the true terror inside him. Truth was, Wyatt loved Bridgett. When he could hear her quietly humming her choir music, he listened along. When she drew sketches in her notebook and showed them to Wyatt, she seemed so proud of them. It made Wyatt's insides hurt, but he had to go along with Cam. "Hey Wyatt! Jacob! She's coming!" Cam whispered sharply and motioned for the two of them to hide behind the nearby bathroom wall. Soon, Wyatt could hear Bridgett's soft humming, and he almost forgot the reason he was here. "Hey Mrs. Tarvin! I'm here for that extra lesson you promised!" She called. There was no response. Peeking around the corner, Wyatt could tell that Bridgett was uneasy because she always fiddled with her sleeve when she was. As soon as Bridgett was inside of the art room, Cam and Jacob moved silently behind the door. With a loud bang, the door shut and Jacob pulled a nearby chair under the door handle. "Hey! What's going on?" Bridgett called, and Wyatt could see through the window on the door that she was visibly upset. "Wyatt? Help me! Get me out of here!" She cried. Cam stood in front of the window his arms crossed. "Sorry little missy, but I'm afraid he can't do that. He's in with us, and we've all been looking for a little fun lately." Behind him, Jacob began to snicker and he took his turn in front of the window. "Honestly Bridgett. A kid as smart as you should really have known that this was a trap. Even I could've figured it out." This time Cam began to laugh. Jacob motioned for Wyatt to take a turn, and reluctantly he did. "You're...you're..."But Wyatt couldn't. "Just spit it out, kid." Cam pushed Wyatt, and Wyatt shouted, "You're so stupid Bridgett!" Crossing his arms again, he turned away from the window, ashamed to see the hurt on Bridgett's face. "Haha! Great job Wyatt! We caught the fox!" Cam and Jacob both put an arm around Wyatt and led him down the hall and toward the door to the parking lot. Before the doors closed, Wyatt heard Bridgett's screams and cries for help. If it wasn't Cam and Jacob's tight grasp, he would have let her out.

Wyatt couldn't sleep that night. All he could think about was Bridgett in the art room, her cries for help, the fear on her face. She didn't have a phone, she couldn't call anyone to get her out, and the only ones who knew about her was him, Cam, and Jacob. "Wyatt! Come in here!" The voice of Wyatt's older brother Tyson called from down the hall. When Tyson opened the door to his brother's bedroom, Tyson motioned for him to sit on the edge of his bed. "What's wrong little bro?" He asked. Wyatt couldn't answer. "And don't say nothing, because I know you too well." Tyson turned on the TV, and looked Wyatt dead in the eyes. "I won't tell, I promise." Unable to hide it any longer, Wyatt covered his face with his hands in shame. "I locked a girl in the art room!" He cried. Not expecting that, Tyson sat down next to him. "What do you mean you locked a girl in the art room?" He asked, putting a hand on Wyatt's knee. "I locked Bridgett in the art room! I locked my crush in the art room!" Unable to control it, tears began to fall down his face. "Cam and Jacob forced me to put a note in her locker telling her that the art teacher Mrs. Tarvin was going to give her a private art lesson. Then, after school, we hid in the bathroom until she came, and locked her in the art room. For all I know, she's still in there! She doesn't have a phone, she can't call for help!" Stunned, Tyson lifted his hand. "Bro, why on Earth would you lock her in the art room? You know that room has no windows, which means she's still in there." Wyatt's eyes went wide. "We have to go get her Ty! We have to go get her!" He shouted. "Shh! If Dad finds out about this, you'll get into so much trouble. Here, go put a coat on, we're going to get Bridgett." On the way to the high school, all Wyatt could think about was how Bridgett was still in that art room. She wasn't humming, she wasn't sketching in her notebook. She was terrified. "Drive faster Ty!" Wyatt pleaded. "If I drive any faster, the cops'll pull me over! Just a few more minutes." When they finally pulled up to the building, Tyson hastily pulled into a parking spot and Wyatt flung himself from the car. By some miracle, the outside doors were still open, and using the flashlight from his phone, he found the art room. It was dead silent. "Bridgett! Bridgett, it's me, Wyatt!" Silence. Wyatt kicked away the chair and flung open the door to find Bridgett lying on the floor asleep. "Bridgett! Wake up, I'm getting you out of here!" No response; Wyatt knew something was wrong. Putting a finger to her neck, there was no pulse. In a frenzied manner, he tried CPR but nothing worked. "Bridgett, please wake up! PLEASE!" He screamed his throat straining. He looked in her jacket pockets, desperate for anything that might wake her up, and inside there was a note that read "Don't forget to take your insulin. Love, Bridgett from the past." Then, Wyatt realized something. Insulin. Bridgett was hypoglycemic. That's why she ate so many sugary foods. That's why she went to the doctor the other day. She needed insulin to stay alive. Since she was in the art room, she couldn't get to her insulin, which meant that Wyatt had killed her. Lifting her head, his fingers getting tangled in her curly brown hair, Wyatt couldn't even find the words to speak. "Wyatt, what's the hold-" Tyson appeared at the doorway. Wyatt looked into Tyson's eyes and began to sob. "It's all my fault Ty!" Tyson pulled out his phone and called 911, but it was too late. Bridgett was dead, and it was all Wyatt's fault.

The funeral was excruciating. Every word that the pastor said was like a sharp knife in Wyatt's stomach. "She lived a good life, though it was short. But we should not be sad, for now she is with the angels." When it was time to walk to the casket, Wyatt was drowned in tears. "I'm so sorry Bridgett!" He sobbed. "I promise I'll be better!" Tyson put a hand on Wyatt's shoulder and led him outside. The casket was closed and the flowers set on the ground. They were marigolds, her favorite flowers. "I'll be better." He whispered.