Locked, Locket, Locker (1/6)
As far as Finn was concerned, his life was pretty shitty. His pregnant girlfriend suddenly turned out to be a) still pregnant, b) pregnant with his best friend’s baby, and c) as a result, no longer his girlfriend. Add to that the way the guy who had been moving up the ranks into the comfortable position of next-best-friend was now making eyes at him in Spanish. And Rachel. Rachel had this annoying habit of saying things that she didn’t mean at all. Things like ‘Sure, Finn, I can give you some space’.
His life in school was hell. His life outside of school was worse. And Glee, that thing that had given him a few bright points in his week, Glee was right fucking in the middle of this crater of stuff that Finn could not deal with. At least when Mr Schue said ‘I understand, take a break. Things will get better, Finn,’ he meant it. Even if he was kind of really talking to himself. And that was the problem. Finn was so used to having all of these people around him, people he could talk to and hang out with, and sometimes just forget about things with.
And now he didn’t.
On top of his complete failure of a social life, Finn had a locker that hated him. It ate homework, lost his mittens, and every now and then someone else’s notes or junk would turn up in there. Finn was pawing through the mess, dumping things out on the floor, searching for the math homework that he had put in there just that morning. And also keeping an eye out for that library book that was overdue by almost a year.
Nothing.
His locker was completely bare, textbooks and apple cores and scrunched up photos surrounding his feet. Finn sighed and began cramming everything back in. He was left with the flyer for an annual book sale that that was set for ‘next weekend!’ sometime back in 1991 in his hand. He pulled a marker out of his school bag and wrote, in clear careful letters ‘My Life Sucks’ on the back. He stuck it to the inside of his locker door with a magnet Rachel had given him (a gold star), and slammed his locker shut.
He made a deal with himself. If his locker ate the note, everything crappy that had happened to him in the past few months would turn out to be just a dream. And if the locker didn’t eat his note, he’d throw Puck in a fucking dumpster.
He wasn’t at all prepared for a third option.
*
When Finn opened his locker the next day, the flyer was gone. In its place was a sheet of lined paper, with a messy scrawl in blue biro that was clearly not paying any attention at all to the previously mentioned lines. It read:
‘That would be a great name for a band.’
Finn snatched the sheet of paper down, and shoved it deep into his bag, crumpling it up and jamming it under his lunch. Now some freak was breaking into his locker. Just fucking great. A day that was bound to be bad, just because Finn was living it, was already starting to live up to his expectations.
But, at the very least, it did take Finn’s mind off things. The note wasn’t in a girl’s handwriting. It wasn’t Puck’s. Finn cheated off Kurt in Spanish, and managed to cross him off the list too. Mike’s handwriting was small and cramped, and Matt was definitely a stickler for sticking to the lines. And a note in a locker was too subtle for anyone else.
Finn mulled over the note throughout the day, turning it over in his mind. He pondered the words - clearly from someone who liked music, but not any of the guys in Glee. If he ran the little exchange over in his head, it was a snappy reply, and it made him laugh a little on the inside. He let the two phrases ping pong back and forth, like when a song got stuck in his head and he could only remember a handful of lines.
The note was ruined by the end of the day, crumpled and torn and he’d put his drink bottle back in his bag without making sure that it was closed, so it was also a little soggy. Finn hunted for dry paper in his locker, and found a handout of the food pyramid from home economics. On the back of it he wrote:
‘It’s better than my first idea - Oh Fucking Christ Argh The Pain Of It All, I Mean Seriously, You Have Got To Be Kidding Me.’
He had to slam his locker a few times to get it to stay closed, but when he was finally satisfied that it wouldn’t burst open during the night, he went home and was able to do his homework, instead of chewing on his pencils and staring angrily at the yellow wall by the kitchen table.
*
Finn got to school late the next day. He had stopped taking the bus after sectionals, and kind of liked the walk to school. He had to get up earlier to make it on time, but it woke him up a little more. Gave him time to think, or not think. Most mornings he looked around at the houses along the road, at the little stores that group together along two blocks. He thought things like ‘I wonder if they wanted that house to be pink, or if it just kind of happened?’ and ‘When did the craft store close? Or did it move?’ He practiced thinking the way he used to, instead of thinking about what happened so hard that his body got all tense and stretched too tight.
It was lunch before he got to his locker. There was a new note on the door, written a little less hurriedly by the look of it. Words were mostly on the lines that time.
‘Aren’t they a Danish prog group?’
Finn had no idea what prog was, or how Danish prog might differ to normal prog, or even where Dane was. So he ate his sandwich on the way to the library, and spent his lunch period surfing the web and finding these things out. He still didn’t quite get it all - he understood the components, but he was sure that the note was a joke, and he just didn’t get why it was funny yet. So he was back after school, nodding to Artie and Tina as they studied together in a corner. It took something like twenty-minutes for a youtube video to load, and in that time he did more reading. He watched the clip, and got into it, and he was grinning by the end because oh. That’s what prog was, that’s why Scandinavia was funny, the history of Satanic rock and its origin in that region (and the resulting misunderstanding by the West) was what made it a joke. And now Finn knew what irony was, too.
He went home without writing a reply. He was a little worried that he would break the chain, but his head was full of a lot of new things and he just didn’t have the brain power to be witty at the best of times. When he got home he peeled potatoes for dinner instead of going straight to his room. And when his mom got home she cooked pork chops and they ate at the table together. When she asked him how his day was, he told her that it was good. She didn’t ask about the Glee practice he was missing.
*
In the few minutes between History and English (Friday mornings sucked) Finn searched for his Spanish homework. He did it Wednesday night. He had put it in his locker the day before. So he wouldn’t lose it and sure, maybe he should have known better, but his locker had been acting like a real supportive good guy for a moment, and Finn had forgotten that it acted like an incredibly dickish vacuum most of the time. He had a free lesson later in the day, since he wasn’t not going to Glee. He could probably re-do it.
‘Thanks for the geography lesson,’ he wrote. ‘And the history one. And the social studies one. Speaking of lessons, if you see any homework of mine could you send it back?’
He pulled out everything he would need before lunch, and slammed his locker shut. The rest of his day was a mess of trying to answer the stupid textbook questions again for Spanish without getting caught by the teachers of every single other subject. They watched a video in health, and Finn used the time in the dark when other kids were passing notes and texting and doodling in their margins to get most of it done. It wasn’t done very well, but that wasn’t unusual.
When Finn went to dump his books after lunch, there was no convenient sheaf of papers stuck to the inside of his locker. He handed up what he had done, and explained that he slaved over that worksheet on Wednesday night. He knew that he was using his sad face on Mr Schue (knew because he could see the look that Kurt was giving him) but Finn’s pride had ran off with his belief that he was going to be a father.
“If you find the other sheet, you can hand that up to me on Monday,” Mr Schue told him. “But I’m sure this one will be fine.”
Finn gave him a relieved smile, and Mr Schue looked happy about that.
“You are such a teacher’s pet,” Kurt told him as they packed their books away.
“What? No I’m not.” Finn saw the look that Kurt gave him, and rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, like he doesn’t let everyone get away with this stuff.” Which he felt bad about saying, because Mr Schue was a great teacher. But it wasn’t exactly a secret that he was a bit of a push over.
“You should see what he’s letting Rachel get away with in Glee,” Kurt replied, and then there was an awkward silence because Finn had been doing a really good job of not letting anyone talk to him about Glee.
Finn slung his bag over his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll tell me about it sometime.”
Kurt walked by his side down the corridor, right up until their paths separated. “Do you want a lift home this afternoon?” he asked suddenly. “I know you don’t catch the bus anymore.”
“Uh, no,” Finn replied. “But thanks,” he added hurriedly, seeing the rejected look on Kurt’s face. “I’ve been going home early on Fridays. Starting the weekend early with Halo. Since I don’t have...” he trailed off.
Kurt nodded, and pasted a look on his face that was bright and understanding. “Of course,” he said. “Just make sure you sing while you’re doing it.”
Finn gave Kurt a lopsided smile. “What? Now you’re giving me homework too?”
Kurt nodded again, prim this time. “Yes. Your homework for this weekend is to sing while doing a regular, everyday thing. I don’t what those pipes of yours getting rusty.”
Finn rolled his eyes, and waved Kurt off with one hand before peeling away and walking down to the car park. He was halfway home before he remembered that he hadn’t checked his locker before leaving. He let it go. The sun was warm, and the air smelled nice, and he just wanted to go home and lie on his bed with the window open. He made himself a deal: if he made it all the way home without seeing a red car, the locker magic would not be offended by his lack of attention. And, really, whoever was getting into his locker must be doing it during the night.
*
Finn was at school bright and early Monday morning. He pulled his locker open, and was nearly hit in the face with the papers stuck to the inside of the door. There was a yellow post-it note stuck to the front, with the same scrawled writing.
‘This it?’
Finn felt a thrill. It was the first time he’d ever found something that was lost in his locker. He tore a page out of his math book, and dug his marker out of his bag again. He wrote in big, cheerful capitals:
‘Ure Amazing! Fantastic! Awsome!!’
And then he added a grinning smiley face. He darted off, because he knew that Mr Schue would be in the choir office and that was only down the hall.
“I found it!” he yelled as he bound into the room, interrupting what looked like a very miffed Mercedes and a typically apologetic Mr Schue.
“It turned up after all?”
“Yeah,” Finn replied. “It was in my locker the whole time.”
“All praise the mighty locker gods,” Mercedes said with a cheeky grin. “Because they have smiled upon you with their generosity.”
“Amen,” Finn added.
“Aaaaamenn,” Mercedes and Mr Schue chanted in response, Mercedes spicing it up a little. They grinned at Finn, a little expectantly.
Finn glared at them, but not very hard because he was trying not to smile. “Nice,” he said at last.
“You can’t blame us for trying,” Mr Schue said with one of his easy smiles.
Finn shook his head, and headed back out to the corridor. “Weren’t you two fighting about something?” he called back.
“That’s right!” Mercedes snapped, turning her attention back to Mr Schue. Mr Schue gave Finn a look of betrayal, and Finn laughed it off.
“I expect double marks for doing it twice!” he yelled over his shoulder. It was looking like a good day, for once.
When Finn went to his locker at the beginning of lunch, there was a new note stuck inside his door.
‘If I’m so amazing, I expect some underpants to be sent my way.’
Finn snorted a laugh at that. He tore off the bottom half of the note, and wrote:
‘You’ve lost underpants?’
He laughed again at the idea of losing underpants at school. It kept him amused through the afternoon. His last lesson was Spanish, in which Mr Schue handed back their worksheets. Finn didn’t get double marks, but he did do well.
“Well?” Kurt asked, looking at him expectantly. “Don’t tell me you forgot about the homework I set for you?”
Finn rolled his eyes. “I tried singing ‘Halo’ while actually playing Halo, but I don’t really know how that song goes, except for the bit about Halos. And then I pissed off the guys on X Box live by singing, and got ganked.”
Kurt pursed his lips, like he was trying to hide a smile. “Well, you get points for effort I suppose. And the image of you bouncing around singing a Beyonce song will stay with me for a while.”
“You should have seen me rock the yellow dress,” Finn replied with a straight face, and was really pleased with the way Kurt snorted with laughter.
When Finn dumped his Spanish textbook at the end of the day, there was another note on the inside of his locker door.
‘Who said anything about the undies being mine?’
Finn found himself blushing, and couldn’t manage to shake the feeling off. He needed to find out who this locker-bandit was.
*
’What do you have for lunch today?’ Finn wrote. He had the bright idea that if he could figure out something about the bandit, then he could figure out who it was. Assuming they didn’t lie.
’A peanut butter, apple, and chip sandwich. Can you tell I make my own lunch?’
Finn couldn’t see anything at the lunch tables in the cafeteria that fit that description. And he wasn’t even convinced that it was a real answer. But he played along.
’That sounds completely nasty’ he wrote back.
’the trick is to have the chips in a little bag, and add them just before you eat the sandwich. Otherwise they go soggy. And you have to use Granny Smith apples.’
’Sounds like you’ve put a lot of effort into working this out.’
’My dad isn’t allowed in the kitchen after he started a fire there years ago. And my mom drank too much at lunch and cut her hand open recently. So I do a lot of the cooking.’
Finn racked his mind, but he couldn’t remember hearing about any of that. Which meant that it must be someone he didn’t know. Except, if he didn’t know this person then how did they know him? And then it occurred to Finn that there was one simple thing that he could try.
’Sounds like you’re the one looking after them. ~ Hudson’
He waited for an answer. He had no idea how this system worked. How much time needed to pass for a new note to appear. He didn’t even know how they were getting into his locker. But by the end of the day he opened his locker, and another note fell out and landed softly on the ground.
’It’s not so bad.’ it read. ’And my name is Liam.’
Liam. Finn didn’t know any Liam’s. A few people had cousins or brothers with that name, but none at William McKinley. Very few in Lima. The puzzle wasn’t getting any easier for Finn to solve. But he liked writing to Liam, and he got the feeling that Liam liked writing back.
*
On Friday Finn raked his brain for something to write. He settled on ’Have a good weekend. Don’t burn your house down.’ He stuck it to the door of his locker with the lucky star magnet, and slammed the door shut. He wasn’t even three steps away when he remembered that he left his math book in his locker and there was a test coming up on Monday. He yanked the door back open, and a different note was stuck up on the inside.
’I like my furniature done medium-rare’
Finn stared at it, dumbfounded. He tore a sheet of note paper out of his book.
’How did you get into my locker so quickly?’ he wrote.
He slammed the door shut, counted off a minute on his watch, and then yanked the door back open again. The note on the inside was slightly yellowed, the lines faded, and the paper looked soft with age. But Finn’s handwriting stared at him from the top half, and Liam’s spidery scrawl stretched across the bottom half.
’How did YOU get into MY locker so quickly?’
Finn stared at it for a long time, getting shaken out of his reverie by Mr Schue poking his head out of the choir room down the hall.
“Hey, Finn,” he said, walking over. Finn hurriedly shoved the note into his bag, and slung it over his shoulder, trying to act casual. “I heard a locker slamming, I was worried someone was trapped inside.”
Finn forced a laugh. “You think someone could actually fit inside one of these?”
Mr Schue looked him up and down with a smile. “Well, maybe not you. But it’s happened. Once someone...” His smile faded a little, and he got his serious face on. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” Finn said brightly. “Fine.” Mr Schue kept looking at him, and Finn gave in a little. “Just having some locker trouble,” he said at last. “Which I really don’t need. You know, on top of everything else...” he trailed off, and Mr Schue nodded.
“I understand. Try not to go so hard on your locker though. They’re pretty old - these same ones were here when I was in high school.”
“Really?” Finn asked, looking surprised.
“Mm-hmm,” Mr Schue said, looking along the bank of lockers with an expression somewhere between puzzlement and nostalgia. “When I was a sophomore I had a locker along here somewhere. It was old even then, I swear it swallowed one of my gloves once and spat out someone else's.”
Finn gave Mr Schue a lopsided smile. “So that’s why you always believe me when I tell you my locker ate my homework.”
Mr Schue gave Finn a sidelong look in response. “Of course,” he said, with a smile playing at the edge of his mouth. “It’s not like you would lie to me about something as important as homework. Right?”
Finn couldn’t help snorting a laugh. “Of course not,” he said, and completely failed to keep a straight face.
A howl of rage from the choir room echoed down the hall, and Mr Schue got a pained look across his face. “I’d better get back,” he said. “There’s an unsupervised diva-off happening in there, and I’m worried it’ll end in bloodshed.”
“Yeah,” Finn said, nodding. “I’d heard that things were going on. From Kurt, I mean. It’s not like I was asking around or anything.”
Mr Schue looked at him with a soft smile. “I hope that you can come back and see for yourself soon.”
“Right,” Finn said awkwardly, adjusting the way his bag sat on his shoulder. “Maybe.”
“Alright then,” Mr Schue said, and he walked back down the hall to the choir room, banging his fist on the occasional locker door as he passed. Finn watched him go, and once the coast was clear, he sprinted off school grounds and all the way home.
He needed to look at the notes from Liam.
Part Two
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