Chapter 4: Locker 9
I paused in front of Sadie's locker.
Locker 9.
The number hit harder than I expected - like a cold slap, or the echo of a laugh I'd never hear again. Students had covered the door with pictures, sticky notes, and hearts drawn in Sharpie. Someone taped a flower to the handle. It was wilting.
I looked around, made sure no one was watching me, and twisted the dial. I still remember the code, I don't know why.
The locker creaked open, and for a second, it was like she wasn't gone. Her scent still clung to everything- vanilla body spray, spearmint gum, something warm and familiar. I didn't know what I was looking for. Maybe I just wanted something that felt like her.
Books were shoved messily on the top shelf, papers crumpled beneath. I started to reach for one, but then I saw it. The Bell Jar. We read it together last year in English, passed it between classes, underlining our favorite lines. She loved that book more than I understood.
Behind it, almost hidden, was a folded index card. My name wasn't on it. No warning. Just her handwriting. Familiar.
Slanted.Rushed.
| Library Computer
| Login: SQ213
| PW: coldtears
Below that, in ink that looked like the pen was drying out was :
"If he ever says it to you too… don't trust him."
I stared at it.
"If he ever says it to you too." Too.
What had he said to her ?
I didnt move. Didnt breathe. The hallway around me was muffled, like I was underwater.
I reached for her binder next. It looked like every other school binder. Stickers peeling, a broken ring at the spine. But tucked in the front pocket were torn notebook pages, taped together. A patchwork mess. Like she was trying to hide it but couldn't throw it away.
Each note was short. Rushed. Scattered
| "He said I'm his favorite. He always says that."
|"Thursday. Same time. No one knows."
| "It's like he thinks I'm not real. Just a thing to talk to. Or watch. Or mess with
| "Don't tell Nina. She won't believe me."
I swallowed hard.
Then I found the photo strip. One of those old photo booth pictures we took downtown earlier in the year - four frames of us laughing, then sticking out our tongues, then making serious faces that turned into giggles.
On the back, in her Sharpie writing :
| "This is the day I almost told you."
I closed the locker. Gently. Like if I shut it too hard, she'd vanish for good.
And maybe, just maybe… someone wanted that.
________________
I didn't go to my last class. I didn't go to any of my classes.
By the time I got home, my head was spinning. My fingers itched with the need to know. Know what Sadie meant. Know what she was trying to warn me about. Know what that login would show.
I tossed my bag on the floor, barely even kicked off my shoes. Pulled out my laptop. Open the school portal.
Library access – SQ213
Password – coldtears
My hands trembled typing it in. It worked.
It brought me to a folder. Untitled. One file inside.
I clicked it.
It was a document. Time-stamped two days before she died.
It started with :
| "If you're reading this, something went wrong."
My chest tightened.
| "I thought I could handle it. He made me feel like it was all in my head. He always did. That's the worst part. Not what he said, not even what he did. It was how small he made me feel after. Like I was stupid for being scared. Like I asked for it."
I sat back, breath knocked from my lungs.
| "I should've told Nina. I should've told someone. But I didn't want to ruin everything if I was wrong. I thought maybe… I deserved it. Or maybe I just didn't want to be the girl people whispered about."
I stopped reading.
Closed the laptop.
My eyes burned.
I needed air.
I needed help.
_________________
I didn't know what I was doing until I was halfway to his street. I couldn't text him. I didn't even have his number. I could barely look at him the past week, and now I was heading to his house like we were friends ?
Except we weren't. Not ever, maybe.
But I remember where he lived. From before. From when we were still kids and Sadie used to drag me on her bike to ring his doorbell and run.
I stopped at the end of his driveway. My hands were shaking. Not from the cold. I could leave. I could turn around, forget all of it.
But I didn't. I walked up and knocked on the door.
Once.
Twice.
The door opened, and there he was. Hair a mess, hoodie half-zipped, like he'd just gotten up from a nap.
He blinked.
"Nina ?"
I didn't even know what to say. My voice caught in my throat. I felt stupid. But I managed, "I-I need to talk to you. It's about Sadie."
He hesitated, then stepped back and opened the door wider. "Come in."
I walked past him, trying not to look at the framed pictures on the walls. A younger version of him grinning in every one, like someone I didn't know anymore. The house smelled like laundry detergent and leftover pizza. Comfortable. Normal. Nothing like what was going on in my head.
We sat at the edge of the couch, not too close. The silence stretched.
Then I said it. Everything.
About the quote.
The journal.
The way Mr.Whitlow looked at Sadie - the way he looked at me.
His face didn't change right away. But his jaw clenched a little. And when I was done, he said nothing.
"I sound insane, don't I ?" I hesitated.
"No," he said finally. "You sound like someone who actually gives a damn."
That nearly cracked something in me.
"So?" I asked. "What now?"
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You said there were files. Passwords in the book?"
I nodded.
"Then we figure out what Mr.Whitlow doesn't want us to find out. You're not doing this alone."
He got up and disappeared down the hall. When he came back, he was holding a lanyard. A faded ID badge hund from it.
"My mom used to teach English there," he said. "She still has her badge. It doesn't work on everything anymore, but some of the old locks? They never updated them."
He tossed it to me. I caught it, confused. "So…?"
"I can get us in," he said. "After hours. We just have to know what we're looking for."
"Okay, perfect," I said, "I can show you everything I found in her laptop…" I stammered. "Mr.Whitlow, h-he did something, I just don't know what."
He paused, like something had just clicked. "She told me once… sophomore year. She was scared of a teacher. Said he made her feel small. Like…like she couldn't breathe when he talked to her."
I froze. "And you didn't say anything?"
"I thought she was being dramatic," he admitted. "She joked about it after. Said she handled it. I didn't know."
I clicked in my head. "Oh my gosh … Ms. Lorenzo. She would always talk to the school counselor about something, I'm not sure what about though. Maybe she had brought it up once. ?"
"There's only one way to find out. We will go tomorrow night." he answered.
___________
It's late – after hours, on a Wednesday night. I didn't bother showing up to school. Kian `uses his mom's keycard so we can slip into the school. We walked straight to the counseling office. Everything is quiet, The hum of a vent. The tick of a wall clock. I never felt the school this still.
Inside, there's a cabinet labeled as
" Student Reports - Confidential."
"I think I found it." I said, still unsure.
"Oh perfect . Look and see if you can find Sadie." he responds.
I rummage through it and find Sadie. There's a file.
"She wrote a complaint… dated weeks before she died." I muttered
"What does it say?"
"It's a complaint how Mr.Whitlow made her feel 'uncomfortable', how he'd say things in class and then again in private." I sighed.
I dug more into the file labeled for Sadie. Another note. Hand written from the counselor. " Spoke with student. Claims may be exaggerated - monitor closely." I read out loud.
"She knew and did nothing."
I walked away from the cabinet as Kian walked up towards it. I can't believe they didn't do anything to help Sadie.
Kian unfolded another paper slowly, his eyes scanning every line before handing it to me. The edges were worn, creased in the middle like it had been folded and hidden for weeks. I recognized the school's email template instantly. But the name at the bottom made my stomach drop.
Sadie Quinn.
The subject line read:
"Formal Report of Inappropriate Conduct - Mr. Whitlow"
But the message had never been sent.
I read it once. Then again. Her words were careful but desperate - like she was trying to stay composed even while everything in her was falling apart. She explained how he started with a compliment. How he crossed lines slowly. How she said no. How he didn't care.
Then she said she wanted to report him but was scared. She didn't trust the system - she said they read outgoing messages from student emails. That's why she never hit "send". They would never believe it if the email was not school registered.
"I found it behind a divider in her binder," Kian said, his voice low. "She must've printed it out. Maybe planning to give it to someone in person. Or just.. Saving proof."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. I was holding the last thing she might have written. The silence stretched between us before I finally spoke. "We will go to him next."
"To Whitlow?"
I nodded, my jaw tightening. "Not to confront him. Not yet."
Kians voice was even. "Got it."
And with the paper still in my hand, we walked toward the place where truth had been hiding all along.
The school hallways were dead quiet. Every step echoed like it didn't belong. Kian led the way, his hoodie pulled low, and I followed close behind, heart rattling against my ribs.
"How are we even getting in?" I whispered.
"The same way we got into the school." He said as he held up a small white card, the kind every teacher wore around their neck. "We've got like, fifteen minutes before the night custodian hits this wing."
His confidence was the only thing holding me together.
We slipped into Mr.Whitlow's room. It smelled like stale coffee and too much paper. The blinds were closed. The overhead lights off. Kian pulled out a flashlight and went straight for the desk.
"You check drawers. I'll check the computer."
I didn't question it. Just started opening drawers quietly, trying not to let the metal scrape. Pens, books, papers, candy. Nothing that screamed "creep" but everything that felt off just because it was his.
Kian muttered under his breath. "He's got some weird messaging app. Not school email. Something encrypted. I think it's like, Signal or something."
I moved to look over his shoulder. The messages were right there - threaded like a timeline. Sadie's name at the top. And the worst part ?
He started everything.
Flirting. Grooming. Manipulating. The tone of the messages turned cold the second she pulled back. And then came the threats.
| If you say anything, I'll make sure they know what you did too.
| No one will believe you anyway.
| You were into it. Don't start pretending you werent.
I covered my mouth. Kian was already plugging in a USB drive.
"We need all of it," I whispered.
"I know." He was copying folders faster than I could read them. Screenshots. Logs. Even files labeled "private".
When the download bar finally hit 100%, we both let out shaky breaths.
But as we turned to leave, Kian's elbow knocked over a pencil cup. It clattered, pens spilling across the floor. We froze.
Then scrambled to put it back together.
We didn't realize until later we hadn't put it back the same.
________________
I found Kian waiting by the vending machine the next morning at school. Right after he had Mr. Whitlow. His jaw tightened.
"He knows."
I blinked. "What?"
"Whitlow. He's acting weird. Said something felt 'off' about his desk. And he looked at me like- like he knew it was us."
My stomach dropped.
"What do we do?"
Kian hesitated, then pulled the USB from his pocket.
"We go faster."