Now that the school day is over, I’m on my way through the deserted corridors to visit Williams. Maybe he knows more about lists, missing teachers, and, well... the end of the world. Shadow and Slug promised to wait for me outside. It probably won’t take long. I’m not even sure what to expect—it’s just a hunch.
To most students, Williams is like an old broken chair they forgot to throw away, something so familiar that it goes unnoticed. In a way, they are right. I, however, don’t see an old crazy eccentric who has outlived his pension. I see a wizard. Someone who fixes every problem without apparent effort or fuss. To me, he’s the sole counterweight to all the stress in this stressed-out school.
Even the ramshackle shed he calls his “office” hasn’t fallen under the dictatorial school regime. It sticks out like a sore thumb in the otherwise meticulously organized corridors, radiating a level of authenticity that’s entirely absent in the rest of the school. The interior is even worse: a chaotic collection of mismatched furniture, confiscated objects, and countless stacks of paper.
Although it might sound pretentious, I consider him a friend. My first “visit” was about a month ago, in a desperate attempt to escape the constant buzz of whispers that still followed me everywhere. I didn’t even knock. I just threw myself through the door.
I expected to be turned away immediately. But to my surprise, he just gave me a knowing look, pointed at a chair, and continued with his work without saying a word. No fuss, no explanations, no words—and it was exactly what I needed. I wasn’t there for small talk or attention, only for a few minutes of peace and quiet. It was the first of many times. Today, however, I’m not looking for peace and quiet. I’m looking for answers. I have questions, lots of them.
I quicken my pace. The security teams will likely start their daily sweep of the corridors any moment, and I don’t want to be caught...
Hey! What was that!? I stop in my tracks and strain my ears. There it is again—a strangely muffled sound coming from the right. I hesitate; maybe I’ve imagined it. But just as I’m about to shrug it off and walk on, the locker room door at the end of the corridor moves.
Of course, I should ignore it, but of course, I don’t. I tiptoe towards it, my heart pounding so loudly that I fear it will betray my presence despite my efforts to stay quiet. Cautiously, I peek into the small, empty passageway that leads to both the girls’ and boys’ changing rooms. To enter the gym hall itself, I’ll have to pass through one of them.
I open the door to the girls’ changing room as slowly and silently as possible, but since the changing room has no windows, I have to rely on my ears to detect if anyone’s there, but even when I concentrate really hard, I don’t hear a single breath, rustle of clothes, or shuffle of feet.
When I cautiously step inside, the nauseating odor, produced by hordes of sweaty teenagers over the course of the day, is as familiar as it is disgusting. With my arms stretched out in front of me, I navigate the darkness, successfully avoiding an enormous waste bin but nearly tripping over an abandoned sneaker. When I safely reach the door to the gym hall at the other end, I press my ear against it and hear... nothing, and before I even really decide it, I slip into the hall, pressing myself against the wall next to the door.
I know it’s not the moment, but I can’t help but be in awe of the room’s magnificent weirdness. Of course, there are the obligatory gymnastics devices, but they are all black. Everything is black. Not a trace of the customary pastel-colored walls and puke green floor of regular gym halls. Only pitch-black ones. Even the lines, indicating the different playing fields, don’t have the usual bright primary colors but are all white. Not very practical, but boy, what an impressive sight.
I quickly search the hall again but again find nothing. How could I have been so wrong? I was sure I saw something.
And then, still pressed against the wall, I finally hear something... whispers... voices... not from the hall, but from behind me, from the boys’ changing room. Shit, of course, how could I be so stupid. Holding my breath, I lean toward the door and press my ear against it. The first voice I hear is unmistakably Fred’s.
“That senile old fool must have been lying.”
“He was full of shit. I could smell it.” hisses Wilma. “I should have made him swallow his own tongue.”
“That would have made it quite difficult to ask him any more questions, wouldn’t it?” scoffs Barney.
“Keep your so-called humor out of it, Barbie doll. Better manicure your nails again if you don’t have something useful to say,” grunts Betty.
“Ah, well, ghat you don’t care how you look is your business.”
“That’s not true! Do you know how long it takes to do these pigtails?” Betty’s obvious fury can’t hide the fact that she’s hurt.
“Impressive, and that with those nimble fingers.”
“Shall I snap your spine in two with these nimble fingers, you faggot window mannequin?”
“Enough!” growls Fred. “One more word and you won’t have to dig your own grave anymore because I will have done it for you.” It has the effect of a bucket of cold water thrown over a couple of fighting alley cats. “You act like little kids,” he adds superfluously.
Here’s the revised version of your text:
“Yes, Fred, like kids, like little kids,” Wilma echoes.
As always, he completely ignores her when he continues. “According to Williams, there are only a few possible places where the list could be hidden. This is the last one, but there’s nothing. Nothing at all.” The floor starts to tremble. “Either he lied, or we’re missing something. So THINK, you two! You’re supposed to be the smart ones.” Barney and Wilma immediately start talking over each other, even Barney now with more than a little hint of panic in his voice.
“Williams… yesterday.”
“What about it?”
“Well, he’s strange, right? Always talking in riddles, like he’s taking the piss. So, maybe... well... at first, I thought he misspoke, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that he may speak vaguely but never carelessly.”
“Is there a point to this verbal diarrhea? The security patrols can be here any moment, and then we’re all screwed. If we get caught one more time, the vice-principal will drop us like a bad habit.”
“I know, I know. This is my point. He said we had to find out when it was hidden. I thought it was a mistake, but what if it wasn’t?”
“Are you kidding me?” Betty laughs.
“I know, but…”
“Don’t listen to that slimy piece of…”
They’re talking so loudly over each other now that I can’t make out what they’re saying anymore. I don’t even try. I’m totally confused by what I heard. What’s happening here? Are they also looking for the list? Is this some kind of race?
One thing is abundantly clear though: the vice-principal has double-crossed me. How could I have fallen for that “you-are-our-only-hope” crap? And now I have to pay the price, standing here all alone in a pitch-dark gym hall, listening to four much bigger students, with talents they undoubtedly control much better than I do.
Inside the locker room, Fred has reached the limit of his patience. He’s about to explode. “Riddles and puzzles!” he roars. “It drives me crazy!” The trembling of the walls and floor increases so suddenly that I have to find something to hold on to, but instead of the wall, my hand finds the door, which gives way immediately.
Unable to stop myself, I tumble full speed into the boys’ locker room. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the four older students jump up in surprise and turn toward me in unison.