“Okay, you’re good. Go!”
Summer pulled the plastic cap off the bottom of her boot heel and let her pocket knife fall out of the hollow into her hand. Pulling out the Phillips screwdriver bit, she set to work unscrewing the battery panel of the Laser Lock on some hapless kid’s locker.
In this post Columbine world, being caught with a weapon on school property – even one as dull and useless as the blade in her pocket knife – had ridiculous consequences. So Desi, her best friend, was keeping guard at the door to the outdoor halls. They weren’t supposed to be in the hall this early either, but getting caught in the building before the first bell was an infraction they – especially Desi, as a straight A student – could talk their way out of.
Summer had a good thing going with these Laser Locks. The infomercial for them started airing earlier that year. In it, kids pointed their little color-coordinated remote controls at the Laser Locks on their lockers and the locks popped open instantly, no combinations or keys needed. Having a Laser Lock shaved valuable seconds off a mid-day locker trip that might otherwise make it impossible to get across campus in the five minutes given before the bell rang, earning one an inordinately high punishment for tardiness. Or it would, if Summer didn’t steal the batteries from these locks.
“You know, I’m gonna miss this when you go off to college,” Summer said as she twisted the screwdriver. Desi had been accepted to Turnbroke University. Summer didn’t know much about colleges, since she’d never planned to attend herself, but she knew it was one of those fancy-ass schools that impressed people when you said you went there. “I’m gonna have to find a new lookout.”
Desi huffed and checked the window again.
“I’m not going anywhere. I can’t afford it and it was a waste of money for my mom to apply. I’m just gonna do community college here.”
“That’s bullshit,” Summer said. “You can get scholarships.”
“Not enough to go to Turnbroke.”
Summer rolled her eyes. Desi always was a pessimist.
Panel off, the batteries inside fell out into Summer’s waiting hand. She pulled a couple of dead batteries out of her skirt pocket and replaced the ones she was stealing. Then she screwed the panel back on. She’d put the stolen batteries in her CD player on the bus ride home that afternoon.
“Why d’you put dead batteries in there?” Desi asked. “To add insult to injury?”
“Nah. Without the dead batteries, they’d know as soon as they tried to open it that someone was stealing them because the lock would be too light,” Summer explained. She put her knife back in her boot heel and stomped her foot to secure the plastic cap back into place. “But if I put dead ones back in, then they just think the batteries died. And they’ll put new ones in that I can steal later when my CD player dies again.”
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