The Secret Locket

Thomas’s mouth hung open as he gazed at Melissa, the girl with the short black bob and green contacts. Long nails glittered on a slender hand gliding across the math paper. Those penciled eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. Thick lashes lay like feathers upon light brown cheeks. About that shapely neck hung a small locket glinting like an evening star beneath an altar of kissable, red lips.

Thomas squeezed his ears. Never would he feel that little mouth on his, for his heart’s desire possessed a fiendish boyfriend shrouded in mystery. What sort of mongrel could captivate such a radiant pixie? If Thomas could know, he could steal her.

“Thomas,” Mr. Doolittle boomed in his ear, “what are you looking at?”

Thomas dropped his pencil, the math test fluttered to the floor. “N-nothing!” He got to work on the paper with gusto. Smirking, Mr. Doolittle waddled across the sniggering room like a ball with legs. A few strands of gray hair trimmed the sides of his shiny bald head.

The bell rang. Thomas scribbled his name and slapped the paper down on Mr. Doolittle’s desk. Tongue hanging out, he followed after his dream girl. The other wenches wore gaudy pretensions of fashion compared to his Melissa’s loose fitting overalls, blue and white blouse, and small puffed sleeves. Her cute little pigtails bounced happily along with her steps.

“Thomas,” Mr. Doolittle called with a smirk on his old mischievous face. Those eyes behind his thick glasses seemed large and insane.

Thomas stared wistfully at Melissa’s shrinking form as she meandered down the hall. Her bedazzled overall strap winked at him. The love struck sufferer’s feet danced in agony as if he needed the toilet, then he stumbled to Mr. Doolittle’s desk where the aroma of stale coffee and meatballs met his nose.

“Is your name Melissa?” the teacher said in that craggy voice of his.

Thomas’s heart seized up. “What? I… uh… what are you talking about?” The boy slapped the door shut lest anyone hear.

Mr. Doolittle chuckled, slid his math test to him. Where Thomas was supposed to have written his name was “Melissa” instead. The tortured boy turned redder than when his pants fell off in class last week. The pudgy old man guffawed as the shuddering teen erased the beloved name.

“You like her, Thomas,” Mr. Doolittle said. “Why don’t you ask her out?”

Thomas shoved up his black-rimmed glasses. “I… I can’t.” He scrawled his own name.

“Why, does she have a boyfriend?”

Thomas nodded dolefully. “She has him in her locket.”

“I didn’t know Melissa had a boyfriend.” Mr. Doolittle took the paper from him. “Who is he?”

“I don’t know.”

Mr. Doolittle grunted in disbelief. “You mean you follow her around like a dog and you’ve never even seen him?” Thomas yanked on the hem of his gray polo shirt in mortification, but the brazen wretch went on. “Then how do you know she has a boyfriend?”

“She talks about him all the time!” Thomas’s throat choked up. “She says he’s always helping people, and he can fight really cool, and he stays out all night whenever he wants to and… and I can’t.” Thomas sighed heavily. He went to bed at nine, did his homework on time, and was basically a dork. “And he’s really rich.” A poor dork, too.

“Well,” said Mr. Doolittle, observing Thomas’s tall slender frame with its too long limbs that did no justice to his neat clothes. Pimples accentuated the scar on his left cheek bone. He had combed his hair like Christopher Reeve’s Clark Kent. Too bad no Superman existed under that rickety facade. “Well, we can’t all be cool. You’re going to be late.” The old goat was no help at all.

Lunch time rolled around. Thomas spotted Melissa heading to the cafeteria with one of her friends. FLOP-FLOP-FLOP went his shovel feet as, like a grotesque spider monkey, he slid into line behind them. The divine scent of Sweet Pea caressed his senses. Closing his eyes, he inhaled, transported to his Elysium where Melissa pranced in a silken gown through pink roses.

Her friend wrinkled her nose and promptly turned her back on him to face her superior. “You going out with Bruce again tonight?”

Melissa giggled, fingered the locket. “Yeah. He’s so cool!” Her voice was as the chimes of Aphrodite’s bells, the sweet tinkling of a bubbling brook. “I like watching him walk. Oh my goodness, his stomach—aaaahhhh!” Her gorgeous eyes crinkled; Thomas shivered with oncoming madness. Would that they did it for the miserable, clunky wretch who could only worship from afar? He glared at the locket.

“I bet he’s not as cool as she thinks,” he snarled.

“Thomas,” said one of his classmates behind him, “who the crap’re you talking to?”

Laughter rang through the line. Thomas’s cheeks inflamed up to his ears. Had he really said that out loud? Indeed, who was he talking to? Some lunatic in his brain that held sway over his every move, that’s who. He glanced at Melissa; her green eyes swept over him as if he were in his birthday clothes. A sad excuse for a smile trembled across his lips.

Melissa’s friend rolled her eyes. “Don’t you have to sit by him next hour?”

“Yeah.” Melissa turned gracefully around, still fingering the golden locket.

Thomas gripped his skinny arms, stared at his great flat feet. Even the floor had no compassion on him because it wouldn’t swallow him. But as the line began to move, Melissa’s pigtails waved at him. The chuckles faded into the background. He knew exactly what she would choose. As she picked up her lunch, he paid no attention whatsoever to his own choices. Somewhere along the line he grabbed what looked like a chicken sandwich.

Heart puttering with the rhythm of her bouncing pigtails, he followed her to a table, but huddled at the other end of it in blissful worship. She bit the sandwich. How exquisite were her jaws as they chewed! With the stupidest smile ever conceived, he chomped down on his sandwich. It was fish. He threw up.

Melissa’s head snapped towards him. “Ew, gross!” Students jumped back, pointing, laughing, gagging. Thomas’s only comfort was that Melissa had noticed him. He ended up in the nurse’s office and missed next hour, which meant he missed his last chance to see Melissa. He was a dejected little dork when he finally came out.

***

Thomas paced his room like a madman. Why couldn’t he be cool like Bruce? Who the crap was this wretch who had his woman’s heart? He was probably a criminal and Melissa was too innocent and good to realize it. Stomping to the mirror in the tiny bathroom like a man on a mission, he lifted his shirt to see what state his abs were in. He cringed.

“They look cheap!” He marched back to his room, his mind a whirl of schemes. Melissa said she liked Bruce’s abs, well, Thomas could have abs too. He laid his spindly frame on the floor and tried to do a sit up. His tiny muscles squeaked in pain, but these little problems would not deter him. Kicking his spidery legs with angry groans, he sat up. Beads of sweat formed on his bumpy forehead. “YEAH!”

Victory won, he headed for the next assailant: the dreaded pull ups. He set the bar on the door frame and… hung there in dorkdom.

***

Thomas slid into his junky gas-reeking car. Every muscle in his stomach twinged. Even his fingers ached; what had he done to do that? Perhaps it was hanging on the pull up bar? As he sputtered on to school, he switched on the player and Demis Roussos started to sing “My Friend the Wind.”

“Melissa’s like the wind,” he mumbled in love-struck anguish.

And then, he saw them: tiny bobbing pigtails beckoning to his tormented soul. A pink backpack glittered with sewn-on jewels. The sole possessor of his writhing heartstrings strolled along the sidewalk. How cute was she in the short yellow dress with the small puffed sleeves and baggy jeans underneath! Could it be that fate had made her miss the bus? He slapped off the music.

Mouth open in glee, Thomas pulled up next to her and reached over to roll the passenger window down. His stomach burst in pain and he fell on the seat. Scrambling for the handle, he succeeded in opening the door. To his horror he could not sit back up.

“Hi,” he said as dashingly as he could as he leaned on his elbows. He just sounded jittery. “Do you need a ride? I mean… uh… I’m not meaning to kidnap you… I mean… I’m from school, too. Um…” He grinned.

Melissa bestowed a dazzling smile. “I know you.”

Thomas flushed. “You do?”

“You sit next to me in History.” Melissa moved to come inside. Thomas shoved off the seat, pretending with all he had that his muscles weren’t howling. She didn’t sit down at once, but dusted the crumbly seat off. Thomas covered his face in shame. His whole car carried the city’s dump in it.

“Thomas,” Melissa said, “what are you doing?”

He bumped his head on the ceiling. The houri had gotten into the car despite the crumbs. “What?”

“Are we going?”

“Oh yeah!” Thomas hit the gas and nearly smashed into another car. Melissa squealed in glee, but Thomas heard nothing but the blood pumping through his brain. The divine aura of Herbal Essence and Sweet Pea wafted through the vehicle. What a cruel fate that destiny had bestowed! Now that the beauty of ages was there, he had reason to look at her with impunity, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the road. He might burst into flames if he looked at her.

“Do you have music?” Melissa said. “Hey, you have a cassette player. My grandpa had one in his car. Then he changed it to a CD player. I don’t know if he’s gonna upgrade anymore or not.”

Thomas flinched. Even the old man was more high-tech than he was.

“Do you have cassettes?”

Thomas wanted to die as “My Friend the Wind” lyrics rushed through his head. Thankfully, the cassette case was safely hidden in the glove compartment.

“No. So…” He glanced at the golden locket around her slender neck. “What’s in the locket?”

“Bruce.” Melissa’s face glittered at the mention of that overrated brute.

“I’ve never seen him.” Thomas could hear his voice shivering, but he couldn’t lose it now. He had to make a good impression.

“Yes you have.” Melissa turned, rested her elbow on the top of the seat. “If you haven’t, you’re living under a rock or something.” She giggled; Thomas gripped the wheel until his knuckles turned white.

“I haven’t seen him,” he repeated as calmly as possible. “Can I see the picture?” He would hunt the wretch down and… and… DO something to him!

Melissa twittered and shook her head. Those pigtails bounced and winked…giggled. She held the locket between tapered glittering fingers. Thomas’s lips shivered with the mad desire to kiss and caress them. His eyes swallowed up the locket.

Since the boy never looked her in the face, and clearly had trouble breathing, Melissa freely observed his weirdness. Her green eyes grew round and mischievous.

“I have a date with Bruce tonight,” she said. “You can see him then.”

“You mean, you’re inviting me on your date?” Thomas could hardly believe such crassness. “Do you think he would care if I came along?”

“Bruce is very serious.” The mirth drained from Melissa’s oval face, except the glint in her eyes. “Besides, you don’t invite people to your dates. That’s nuts! You can get a glimpse of him if you can find me after school. I have to hurry and meet Bruce so I can’t meet you.”

“Oh…” Thomas stared at the road. The light turned red, but the other one further down stayed green so he kept going. Horns and angry shouts followed them, but Thomas didn’t have time for petty trivials such as car crashes and law breaking. “Wait… you mean I get to see Bruce just like that? I thought he was a great secret. You’re sharing a secret with me?”

A grin spread across Melissa’s face. “Only if you can catch me.”

Thomas’s heart hammered until the friction burned him all over. “Oh, I’ll catch you.”

“It’s hard to catch Bruce.”

Thomas didn’t care. What would he do when he found her and Bruce? What sort of person was Bruce? He felt like a fool, but he had to warn her. “Melissa, are you sure Bruce is alright? I mean, what if he’s some kind of nut? What class is he?”

“He’s out of school already.” Melissa twirled the locket in her fingers.

Thomas started; his car swerved into the next lane. “Wait, you mean he’s like in college?” Somebody shouted obscenities.

“He’s out of college.” She sounded so maddeningly calm about it.

“Melissa, you can’t do that. It’s dangerous.” The car climbed the curb, drove along the sidewalk and parked on four spaces in the school parking lot. “Does your dad know about him?”

Melissa giggled. “Bruce has the most awesome abs.” She jumped out of the car. “My last class is in Hamblin’s. Thanks for the ride!” And she skipped away with her pigtails bobbing goodbye.

“Melissa, wait,” Thomas cried, but by the time he had manually locked the car, the nymph had glided out of sight in an ocean of sniggering students, exasperated teachers, fancy vehicles and smelly buses. Thomas groaned. Even if it meant death, he would have to save this damsel from certain ruin. Now, where was Hamblin’s class again? He was the art teacher. What sort of a grade was Melissa getting in there? He clearly remembered his D+. D for dork, plus for extra special dork.

The day passed in agony. His life would soon be over, but he would die for his Melissa, which was the best cause that he could think of. Finally, the last hour loomed its sleepy head.

Thomas’s knee bounced up and down as the clock ticked on. Five minutes after the hour… fifteen… He broke his pencil in half at the half hour mark. He twisted his paper into a cone. Fifteen ‘til… ten… Thomas shut his eyes, stuffed his head in his arms. He looked up. Two minutes. One minute… fifty seconds. His heart pounded in his throat, beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. Thirty seconds. Fifteen… ten seconds. He seized his bag, flung it on his back.

Ding-ding-ding!

“I want everyone to stay after a little,” Ms. Perkins droned. “I have more things I want you to know—Thomas!”

Thomas sped from the room like a boy possessed. Hunting like a hound for Melissa, he spotted her up ahead. And then she vanished through the double doors. He barreled students over and burst outside. She stood at the top of the steps before the band room as if she had been waiting for him. She waved her delicate hand, beamed like a drop of light separated from the radiant sun. He screeched her name.

She vanished around a corner. By the time he got there, she was gone. Frustrated shrieks twisted him all up inside, but some of his senses returned in time to save him from certain humiliation. With a miserable groan, Thomas meandered through the guffawing crowds towards his trashy car without so much as a glance at any of his mockers and got in. The whimpering lover drove right past the object of his madness. She just laughed.

***

“You totally missed me yesterday,” Melissa said as she sat beside him in History.

Thomas looked up as his heart leaped. There were the glossy pigtails, the puffed sleeves. Today they were white and her overalls ended in a skirt instead of pants. She had earrings on!! Chills curdled his blood, yet his heart pumped with the electricity of her resplendent presence.

“You were running or something.” He sounded so sulky he wanted to slap himself.

“And by missing me, I mean missing me with your car.”

“What?”

“You almost ran me over.” Melissa beamed as if it had been the most wonderful thing that had happened to her. Thomas had a heart attack of overpowering passion. “Do you want to try again? I’m meeting Bruce again. You’ll think he’s so cool!”

The edges of Thomas’s mouth almost reached the bottom of his chin. “I doubt it. But I’ll save you from him if it’s the last thing I do.” He bit his tongue, eyes went wide.

Melissa’s cheeks turned bright pink.

“Oommggpf.” He covered his face. “Kill me now.”

“D-don’t be ridiculous. Bruce does all the saving.” She shoved her face into her school book as if she had never read about Christopher Columbus before.

Despite this, Thomas scrambled to Hamblin’s room at the end of the day where he missed Melissa again. The next day and the next—was she running from him? Why wouldn’t she after what he had said? The crushing blow came when she switched seats with a friend in both math and history class. He stared at her as if someone had ripped out his spine. Mr. Doolittle said something to him, but mere gibberish to the torments of Thomas’s shattered soul!

The weeks sped by. He plunged into school work and his after-school workout to get his mind off of her, but she gazed at him from every math page, looked at him in the mirror when he brushed his teeth, sat in his chair as he exercised. Were his teeth white enough for her? Did he wash his butt ten times so she’d never smell him? How were his muscles coming along?

One awful night he measured his arm and found it had become no bigger than before.

“No! No!” He collapsed on his bed, his reeling mind a fever of emotions. When did he fall asleep, he did not know but the pigtails came that night. They hopped around him like disembodied spirits as they dangled the locket just out of his reach.

“NO!” Thomas jerked awake.

“Thomas,” his mom shouted, “what is wrong with you?” She burst into his room. “You want that girl, go get her! Stop being a coward!”

“I-I don’t have a crush on n-nobody,” Thomas sputtered.

“Everybody knows. I’m tired of this!” And she threw him out, a disheveled, unwashed mess with wide sleepless eyes and drawn face. How in the world did his mom know? He was an expert secret keeper. She had some weird telepathy or something.

History came around once more to torment him with unreachable love. Why couldn’t he just snatch Melissa up? He didn’t have to know who was in the locket. And he wasn’t a coward…at least, he didn’t think he was too much of one. He glanced at Melissa who stared at her desk. Thomas’s head tilted sideways, mouth open.

I’ll catch her in Hamblin’s room, he thought as a surge of determination welled within him. I’ll get Melissa. I’ll make her mine! I’ll…I’ll kiss her! Cold fear froze the pit of his stomach and he had to go to the bathroom to barf.

Once again, the final hour before his doom arrived. Every second the clock ticked seemed louder than the last. Faster and faster the minutes raced as if they were on a relay team. Thirty real time seconds went by, but the clock had gained fifteen minutes on it.

“Oh no,” Thomas moaned.

“What, Thomas?” said Ms. Perkins.

He scratched his scalp. “N-nothing.”

“Focus, Thomas.”

Five minutes until the bell. Thomas’s stomach churned. The girl next to him made a face.

Ding-ding-ding!

Thomas stared at the clock. His hour of death was at hand. What would Melissa do? His legs moved on their own as he stood. Somehow his backpack made it on, he was out the door. Students swirled in a fog that formed a tunnel leading to Hamblin’s dreaded art room. Suddenly, a light shined and raced towards him as if the devil were after it. Tears glassed its beloved eyes, even the dear pigtails quivered with emotion.

“Melissa.” Thomas gripped the little puffed sleeves. “What’s the matter? I’ll rip off his head who made you cry.” His face reddened. “I mean…oh boy.”

Melissa turned as pink as her sleeves. “I lost my locket.” She grew frantic. “I don’t know where I dropped it! It fell off my neck! I looked all over Hamblin’s room but it isn’t there.”

“Alright, let’s backtrack. We’ll find it, Melissa.” Even if Bruce’s picture was in it. The chump probably wouldn’t even care about the locket. But Thomas did.

“Somebody might steal it.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find it. And if you miss the bus, I can give you a ride home.” He cringed. “Unless…” He would kill Bruce if he was giving her a ride home. “…you’re meeting Bruce?”

Melissa wiped her heart-rending eyes. “Not right now.”

And so, they went searching. They couldn’t find it anywhere, and then Melissa said, “P.E. got nuts. It might’ve fallen in the gym.”

Racing to the gym, they scoured it for the precious, but vexing, locket. As Thomas hunted around the bleachers, a golden glint caught his eye.

“The locket,” he hissed. He glanced around for Melissa. She couldn’t see. “Open!” His stiff limbs flailed towards the shine; his wide hands clamped over the small evil thing as his muscles screeched in protest. With feverish shaking fingers he snapped it open. His jaw dropped in astonishment.

“Oh, you found it.” Melissa ran across to him. “You opened it.” Her mouth screwed up in horror.

“Yeah… uh…” Thomas didn’t know what to do. “Batman?”

Melissa smiled sheepishly. “Bruce!”

“Your boyfriend?”

“I said he was out of college and rescued people and stayed up late and had the most awesome stomach.”

Thomas’s eye twitched. “But all your friends say you have a boyfriend.”

She replied simply, “I lied to them.”

“But your dates.” Thomas stared at the ceiling. Melissa was no one’s girlfriend.

“I play video games,” said Melissa. “And I have all the cartoons. I said if you could catch me, you could see Bruce.” She looked at her pink converse shoes. “But I guess not now, huh? You think I’m weird?” She sighed as if about to cry. “I knew you thought I was. You stopped coming to Hamblin’s class.” She started walking away, but Thomas seized her wrist in a heated grasp.

“What do you mean? You switched seats on me.”

“We had a new seating chart.”

Thomas’s ears burned. “Oh… w-well I don’t think you’re weird. You’re beautiful.” He almost swallowed his tongue, but he couldn’t back out now. “And—and… yeah.” He could have kicked himself. Why couldn’t he make up a flowery speech of everlasting love? Here it was, the moment of truth, and he sounded like a Neanderthal. He was even hunched over like one. He was supposed to be looking deep into her eyes; he was supposed to kiss her. Why did he have to throw up for?

Struggling for breath, he did the only thing he could do. He opened her small warm hand and placed the locket in it. Melissa didn’t pull away or shudder at his touch, but smiled into his face. Before Thomas knew what he had done, he had pressed her fingers to his lips. Warm streams from Nirvana replaced the very blood in his veins—and then he realized his madness. Was he supposed to have done that?

Before he could sputter an apology, Melissa leaned into him, arms circling his middle and her head rested on his chest. The strength abandoned Thomas’s body; his heart hammered against Melissa’s ear. A grin spread over her face and she pulled back, eyes scrunched up just for him.

“Let’s play Batman,” he said, struggling to control his quivering voice.

Melissa gave an excited nod. “Okay.” Slipping the locket into her overall pocket, they left the school side by side, hand in hand.

The End

“The Secret Locket” was first published in Grey Wolfe Publishing’s romance anthology “Legends: Passion Pages” in 2017 under my name Julia Benally.

Copyright © 2017 Grey Wolfe Publishing

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this work are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

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