Locked

"Misty!! Dammit!" I hollered as I walked towards my locker, its combination lock again latched backwards and dangling from the door, taunting me for yet another time. I could hear her cackling as she bounded up the stairs behind me. The end-of-lunch bell had just rung, signaling the commencement of the 3 minutes we all had to scramble to our collective classrooms before the start of 6th period. In our case, as was the case every year for the duration of our tenure in high school, our next class was 4 flights up on the third floor. The locker room was in the basement...