1642734778_punk-57-pdf

I was able to get Pre-Calc done at lunch, but I still have some questions
from the Novel Study and Government to do tonight.
“Whoa. Is that your locker?” I hear Ten say.
I look down the hallway and spot a pile of belongings spilling out onto
the floor. About right where my locker is located.
Ten releases me, and we both jog up to the mess, seeing my locker door
hanging open and part of it bent, as if it’s been pried open with a crow bar
or something.
What the hell?
I kneel down, my lungs emptying as I sift through my clothes, iPod, and
a mountain of papers laying astray from the folders they were neatly
organized in previously.
“What the hell happened?” Ten bursts out. “Is anything missing?”
I swing the locker door open wide and survey the remaining contents.
The little pink shelves and overhead lamp I’d installed are still in there, as
well as my umbrella and fleece jacket I keep in there just in case. I kneel
down, surveying the items on the floor and see that all of my books are
accounted for as well as the Louboutins and the shirts I hide from my mom.
“I don’t think so,” I say breathlessly, still confused.
Why break into my locker and not take anything?
I look around nervously, noticing no one else’s locker has been
vandalized that I can tell.
“I wonder what that means,” Ten says.
“What?” I look up, following his gaze.
He holds my locker door closed, showing me the word written in black
Sharpie on the front.
Empty.
I stare at it, confused. What?