Finding Ford

chapter one

"Life is a comedy to those who think, and a tragedy to those who feel." -Jean Racine

"THERE YA GO," THE JANITOR SMILES WITH the five teeth in his mouth, pulling away from the locker, twisting the crowbar in his hand. "That atta do it. Call me if you girls have more problems, now."

"Will do, Mr. Witlocke," Jas sighs, not even bothering to return the smile to the janitor. Mr. Witlocke fixes his blue uniform, his smile unwavering as he lifts his crowbar, tapping it against the lockers.

"This school really outta get these fixed," he declares, voice loud and charismatic. He gives the old, rusted lockers another tap, the sound echoing through the empty halls. "You wouldn't imagine the amount of people I go fix these for a day."

"I can imagine," Jas grits through clenched teeth.

Mr. Witlocke withdraws his crowbar. "Well, you girls have a good day." He turns to me, raising his crowbar and shaking it in my direction in a disapproving manner. "And be gentle with these oldies, I don't want any more maintenance calls than I need, y'hear?"

"I hear, Mr. Witlocke," I say.

The janitor turns to leave, before seemingly changing his decision and turns back around. He waves his crowbar again. "Say, are you girls still in band?"

Jas rolls her eyes. "No, that was three years ago."

Mr. Witlocke hums. "Time sure does pass by quick."

"Yeah," I say. Mr. Witlocke stands around for a couple of more moments before I add, "It was nice talking to you, Mr. Witlocke. We really should be getting ready for class."

"Oh, yes, of course," Mr. Witlocke practically exclaims, his free hand shooting up to his bald head. "Excuse me for keeping y'all up. What class are you headin' to?"

"English," Jas says, deciding she's done with the conversation and turning her back to Mr. Witlocke, throwing her locker open. "And we're late. C'mon, Ava."

I give Mr. Witlocke an apologetic smile, wincing at the horror painted on his face from the way Jas handles the locker. "Hey, Missy, you wonder why your locker keeps on jammin'? Maybe if you weren't handlin' it like it's leftover hay-"

Jas shoves my books into my arms, slamming the locker door louder than needed. "Bye, Mr. Witlocke," she says, but I'm sure he doesn't hear, considering he's still on a rant. We turn the corner, and that's when Jas lets out an exasperated breath, followed by a blunt groan.

"That old man," she says, "Will be the end of me." She shifts the backpack on her shoulder, shaking her head of dark hair. "And so will that locker. If Racer jams it one more time-"

"He's your boyfriend," I point out, slightly exasperated. "Tell him to stop going into it and hiding his cocaine in there."

"For the last time, James is not a drug dealer!"

We walk the old and gross corridors, way too familiar for anyone's liking. English class is full when we walk in, causing for chatter to die down and people's gaze to glue onto us. Jas gives Mrs. Hines a sarcastic wave, before throwing her books loudly on the desk in the front where Mrs. Hines is pointing for her to sit. Mrs. Hines points for me to sit on the other side of the room, which I do without as much noise as Jas.

"Jaswinder," Mrs. Hines begins as a murderous look settles on Jas' face from the use of her full name, "This is your third time late."

"Tell that to mine and Ava's locker," she says, opening up her binder. "It was jammed."