Early in the morning, when classes hadn’t begun yet, the five friends chatted in the hallway. Isa sat cross-legged on the floor and placed the chest on her thighs.
“It does look kinda old,” Dylan said, as he examined it. “It’s antique. Look at the designs at the edges. It has to be antique,” Ciara concluded, touching the chest.
“Must be really valuable if it’s antique,” Cole added.
Isa Pat the chest tenderly as she said, “I’ve looked everywhere in my house for the key, but I still couldn’t find it. I’d even tried to pick the lock a few times but it’s just…stuck. The lock looks pretty complex and superior to my novice lockpicking skills.” She lifted the chest up, “so why not take it to someone who really knows his stuff.”
“I know a guy…”Cole took the chest and examined it. “Really good at this stuff. Knows his ways around any kind of lock. He’s helped me with a few things and he’s never disappointed before.”
“What things?” Ciara narrowed her eyes on her twin brother.
“Moving on” Cole raised his voice. “I think he’ll be able to crack this stuff. Antique or not.”
“Great. When will we meet this guy?”
Dylan asked folding arms. “After school, if that’s okay with you Is…hey!”
Cole shouted as the chest was snatched out of his grasps. He clenched and unclenched his fists in anger as he glared at the culprit. Isa stood up to face her.
“Give it back, Heather,” Isa demanded, stretching her hand forward. She had no right to take her things. Heather completely ignored her and inspected the chest with undisguised disgust.
“Can you explain to me what you’re doing with this junk, newbie?” Isa seething with anger bit out, “that’s none of your stupid business. Give me back my stuff. You can’t just go around taking people’s stuff, especially mine.”
“I just did,” she grinned and continued her inspection. “Such a tattered, ugly, old, useless looking kind of trash this is…”
Smiling, Heather looked at Isa, “has the same characteristics as you…”
“Enough of your shit Heather. Give the box back to Isa, now,” Dylan ordered as he glared at Heather.
Displeased with Dylan’s intrusion, Heather cocked her head and said, “I wasn’t talking to you, food hog. Don’t you have expired boxes of mozzarella sticks in your basement to stick your head into, other than my business? Shut up and stay out of this.”
Anger clouded Dylan’s eyes as he growled and moved to teach the brat a lesson. “Dylan no, no. Don’t let her get to you” Campbell pleaded as she struggled to hold him back.
Heather, unfazed by his attempt, rambled on, “great thinking fashion wannabe. You don’t want him ruining my designer clothes. You know, if you keep up the good work, you might actually be opportuned to find these clothes in a charity, once they’re useless to me. If I’m feeling generous that day, I might slip in some of my less expensive perfume for you to get rid of that…old lady smell you got on you. Just, don’t be shy to look for it, darling.” Her proxy laughed scornfully.
“Aahhh” Campbell screamed as she struggled in Dylan’s arms. He was now holding her back. She wanted to rip out Heather’s vile tongue.
Some students had started looking at the scene Heather was creating. Most of them had pitiful looks on their faces.
“What kind of a person are you?! Do you not feel disgusted with yourself for saying those things?” Isa yelled in anger. “So tell me newbie, what are you doing with this?” She held the box in front of her, “I mean, it looks useless to me.”
“It would to an arrogant, stupid and brainless bimbo like you,” Ciara muttered under her breath, but Heather heard her.
“Ah yes! The nerd. Fancy you joining our unintelligible conversation. You must be tired from all that pointless research you’ve been doing to remove that awful dirt colour you call a complexion. Yes I’d be self conscious too. You were shopping for a bleaching cream once, right? I recommend pure white. You might get a complexion half close to my flawless skin. But I think you should stick to your complexion, you look less ugly in it.”
Everyone in the hallway began to whisper to each other. Like it or not, that was racism speaking.
“Don’t you dare talk to my sister like that, you bitchy monster!” Cole bellowed, turning red. Ciara, on the other hand, was looking pale. Campbell gasped, clearly hurt, and held Ciara who was rigid.
“That’s enough!” Shouted Isa. “I’ve had it with you. Is this what you do? Going around insulting and making other people’s lives miserable?! Because you’re a sad and lonely person doesn’t mean you get to force others to be like you, Heather. Now give me back my box, and leave us alone.” Everyone watched to see if Heather would comply.
“No.”
Isa moved to snatch her chest, but Heather quickly tossed it to her follower, Jade. Jade smiled mischievously, “come and get it newbie.” Isa tried to take it back but Jade tossed it again. It went from one pair of hands to another. Isa chasing her box, the girls laughing at her.
Jade caught it and threw it again, but it landed in the hands of professor Gray.
Silence settled down in the hallway and no one moved. Professor Gray turned it over and observed it silently. Everyone was fixed to the spot, and even Heather and her gang didn’t run away. Isa was grateful for at least that.
“You all should be ashamed of yourselves for misbehaving like this in front of everyone. It’s a sign of indiscipline and lack of home training. And this…” he looked down at the item in his hands, “I will hold onto this for safekeeping. Get to class, all of you.”
Everyone started scurrying off to class. Everyone, except Isa.
She stood not far from the professor, trembling in anger, staring pointedly at the floor. She couldn’t think of anything else. Heather had made the professor confiscate her property, and the worst part of it was, she couldn’t do anything about it.
“Miss White.”
“Professor,” she answered.
“I’m sure you have class.” Sighing, she slumped her shoulders and replied, “yes professor.” Then, she walked away.
During the rest of the school hours, Isa had been in a sour mood and wouldn’t talk to anyone. In the cafeteria, sitting with her friends, her mood wasn’t any better. She vented her anger on her food. Her friends sat quietly, and nervously glanced at her from time to time, especially when she mercilessly stabbed her food.
“Just calm down a bit Isa, you’ll get your chest back” Dylan said. But Isa remained silent and continued her onslaught on her lunch.
Sighing, he continued, “look, you can meet professor Gray after school and ask him for your stuff. He’s not a bad teacher and doesn’t have much of a personality. I’m sure if you ask him the right way, he’ll return it.”
But Isa still didn’t talk.
He looked around for help from the others. Then he sighed sadly at the sight.
Cole was super grim and nursing his anger. He wasn’t doing so well as a vein popped on his head. Campbell was still pale, with her eyes red from the tears she fought hard to keep inside. And Ciara was ignoring everything and everyone and resigned herself to the mental comfort of her homework.
Just then, Heather and her gang passed by Isa’s table, and she not so silently whispered, “losers!”
Her followers burst into laughter, and called them names as they passed.
Isa stared after them, anger bubbling in her throat. She squeezed her juice box till it burst, and the contents splashed on everyone on the table.
“Thanks for ruining my homework,” Ciara hissed as she lifted up her dripping wet papers. Isa ignored her.
After school, while her friends waited at the entrance, Isa went to see the professor. She stood before the door and prayed that he’d return her chest to her. Knocking softly on the door, a ‘come in’ granted her access.
She entered and stood before him, her hands together and her eyes staring back at those grey ones.
“What is it miss White?” He asked, his voice devoid of emotions. Isa took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry professor.”
“Sorry for what exactly?”
“I’m sorry for the way I behaved in the hallway this morning. It was very bad of me.”
It should be Heather doing this…
“Go on,” he urged.
“I was also wondering if you could…please return my chest…to me, please professor.” She swallowed hard as she watched the professor.
His face remained unchanged and he hadn’t moved a muscle since. His grey eyes felt like they were piercing her; checking her brain to find out if she was pretending. She suddenly felt self conscious and looked away.
“Sit down miss White.”
She took a seat and peeked at the professor, wondering what he would say to her. All she wanted to do was take her chest and get out of this classroom. Getting comfy in the classroom or having a chat wasn’t part of the plan.
“You’re new to this town and school, and you have no idea how things operate or happen here. You best avoid getting into trouble by all means.”
“Yes professor.” A vein throbbed in her head but she remained calm.
Professor Gray reached for his desk drawer, took out the chest and placed it on the table, before Isa.
“Where did you get this?” The question was thrown so fast that Isa didn’t register it immediately.
“My…it was my mother’s, professor.”
“And why did you bring it to school?” His raised an eyebrow at her.
“I wanted to open it…see if my friends could help me with it, or professor.”
“I see.” He gazed at the chest.
“Do you know miss White, that this is a special kind of chest? Yes, no ordinary chest indeed. Opening it will take a lot of time, patience, and willpower.”
“Much willpower, indeed,” he whispered to himself.
“Do you know that chests like this could only be opened by the true owner? If not the owner, then one with skill and a great amount of willpower,” he said, and Isa nodded.
“Willpower and skill. So a lockpick, maybe?”
Ignoring her question, he brushed his hands on the chest and continued, “to open,. you must first of all, look within…”
Isa blinked. “I don’t understand, professor.”
Professor Gray stopped touching the chest and looked at her the way a critic did at an artwork. Isa looked away then, and thought that she had offended him with her statement.
Then, he took out his pocket watch and gazed at it, and absent mindedly said, “have a nice evening miss White.”
Isa met her friends, and they hurried to the lockpick’s shop, with Cole leading.
The lockpick’s shop was actually a clock shop. Different shapes and kinds of clocks hung on the wall. Some were placed on shelves. There was only the constant tik-tok sounds penetrating the silence. A huge grandfather clock stood beside the entrance door, showing the time, 4:45PM.
Cole led them to the counter. He rang the desk bell severally till a lean middle aged man emerged from the back. His hair was brown with streaks of silver. He had a small moustache and a scowling look.
“Who’s the goat that doesn’t know to ring a desk bell, properly,” he yelled irritatedly. But he paused when he saw Cole’s familiar face.
“Oh it’s you. I should have known. You never learn anything, Cole.” He smiled at everyone, and his face had become friendly looking.
Everyone chimed up their greetings as he nodded his head in acknowledgement.
“You know them already, George but since you’re old…”
George glared at Cole fiercely and Cole laughed nervously. “This is Ciara, Campbell, Dylan, and…”
“Isabella White,” he laughed. “I know you already. Not so new to town anymore, ey?”
“No,” Isa replied, heat creeping up her face.
“So what can I do for you kids? ” Mr George asked as he leaned on the counter. He looked at each of them, lingering on Isa’s face before saying, “well?”
“Yeah, there’s this chest…thing we have, but we don’t have the key. Can you take a look?” Cole handed it over to Mr George who in turn examined it with interest. He mumbled a few things to himself, turning and touching every inch of the chest, while they stood in silence and watched.
“Can you pick the lock?” Cole asked after a while of silence. Mr George set the chest on the table and sighed, “some chest this is.” He drummed his fingers on it.
“Well? Can you?” Dylan asked, staring at the man.
“Well I can try,” he shrugged, “might take some time…but I think I can crack it.”
“That’s great,” Campbell said, smiling.
“Say now, where did you get this chest? Looks old and probably antique but I haven’t seen this kind anywhere.”
“It’s mine,” Isa answered, moving forward. “Actually, it was my mother’s.”
“Hmm…your mother’s?” He asked looking from the chest to her.
“Yes, my mother’s,” she said firmly.
“Alright” he said. You have to leave it with me so that I can take a look at it really well. I reckon, I might be able to pick it before tomorrow. What do you say?”
“Are you okay with that?” Dylan turned to Isa. “Yeah I’m okay with that,” she turned to Mr George, “please keep it safe.”
“Don’t worry little lady. Your chest is safe with me” he smiled and winked at her making her smile back.
When they left the store, Mr George shut the windows and locked the door. He pulled down the blinders, and peeked through them, watching the friends leave until they were a fair distance away. He walked to the back of the store, carrying the chest in his hands. His deep frown showed that he was thinking of something seriously.
He set the chest on the table and re-examined it with deep concentration. His frown deepened.
“What other secrets are you hiding, Janet White.”