Toby and I ducked into the locker room, the second we stepped in a wave of sweat, and overly ambitious cologne slapping us in the face like a wet towel.
"Ugh," Toby gagged, holding his shirt over his nose. "Why does it smell like someone boiled a sock stew in here?"
"Because someone probably did," I said, sidestepping a suspicious puddle that looked more like it belonged in a sewer than a school.
"Gross. I swear the ventilation in here is from the Cold War."
I leaned against a locker near the wall as Toby fumbled with his gym bag. He was balancing on one leg, trying to tug his sock over his heel while maintaining his dignity.
"Come on, man," I said. "You're wrestling a sock, not a dragon."
"I packed two left socks!" he groaned. "How does that even happen?"
"I think it's just natural selection. Only the strong socks survive the spin cycle."
Toby collapsed onto the bench with a defeated groan, the sock dangling off his foot like a flag of surrender.
While he struggled, I glanced past him, and something flickered in the corner of my eye.
Movement.
Quick. Too quick.
I stood straight, instincts kicking in. Walking towards the direction I came upon the shower stalls, they were hissing, steam billowing out and curling across the floor like smoke from a fire. But this steam… it didn't rise. It *crept.* Low. Like fingers sliding across the tile, hiding something just out of sight.
I took a step forward, narrowing my eyes. My whole body shifted into analysis mode. Every breath a whisper. Every footstep strict with purpose.
The fog was thicker now, and through it, something moved again, tall
I slowly slid my hand toward my slacks pocket where the amulet now rested. It was quiet. No glow. No hint of power. Whatever that thing was, it wasn't safe.
My fingers inched closer.
Then—
"DUDE!" Toby's voice shattered the moment like a dropped plate. "WHERE IS MY OTHER SOCK?!"
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
"I'm in crisis here!" Toby flailed, while holding up a sock . "Look at this! I can't walk out there looking like a hobo!"
"You walked into school looking like a hobo. It can't be that bad."
"Wow. Harsh but fair."
I turned back to the fog. It was thicker than before but I didn't see anything anymore, gone without a trace.
I muttered under my breath. "Great. Now the shadows are making me delusional."
"What?"
"Nothing. Just… dry off and don't scream next time."
Toby sighed and finally shoved his feet into his shoes. "Why are you acting like we're in an episode of *Supernatural* all of a sudden?"
Because we might be.
I didn't say that. I just grabbed my shirt and threw it over my head.
As we finished changing, Toby was ranting to me as we walked through the halls. "You think maybe gym socks are like… time travelers? Like they quantum leap between dryers and that's why they're never in pairs."
"You need sleep," I said half stoic, still wondering what could potentially be there in lockers.
"You need a therapist. You looked like you were ready to kung-fu a shower drain."
"Because something was there."
Toby blinked. "Like… a person?"
"No."
His expression twisted. "Like… a mouse?"
"Worse."
"WORSE than a mouse?!"
I clapped him on the back. "Let's just say if you see fog crawling toward you? Don't follow it."
He stared at me, then glanced back at the lockeroom, suddenly rethinking everything.
"...I don't want to be here anymore.Keep up." He said, walking slightly faster.
"Good. Let's go."
We left the locker room and stepped back into the world of fluorescent lights, hallway traffic, and teenage noise.
Outside, the sun blinded us momentarily as we stepped from the dark into light. Students milled around, loitering before heading to practice or home.
That's when I saw it.
Steve Palchuk.
Predictable Steve, a rush of memories about him flew threw my thoughts as I watched him shoving Eli Pepperjack toward a locker like a sitcom villain with too much protein powder in his diet. I took a step forward.
"Jim," Toby warned, already sensing where I was headed. "What are you doing? Its not worth it."
I ignored him.
"Hey, Steve," I called.
The, current bully, turned, surprised to hear his name spoken with anything other than fear or flattery. He grinned when he saw me.
"Well, well. If it isn't the rope-swinging ninja. What's the matter? Want a ribbon for participation?"
"Let him out."
Steve raised a brow. "You got a problem?"
Eli's face peeked from the cracked locker door, wide-eyed and hopeful. I stayed calm—calmer than anyone had the right to be with a jock breathing down their throat.
"You know, Coach Lawrence's office has a pretty thin door," I said. "He'd probably love to hear how you're spending your afternoons."
That wiped the smirk off Steve's face.
But soon after Steve's hands curled into fists. Storming up to me and grabbed my collar.
"You threatening me?"
"Wouldn't dream of it," I replied, voice low. "Just mentioning. Wouldn't want something to happen."
Behind me, Toby looked startled but seeing my predicament gathered his courage, and started chanting, "Let him out! Let him out!"
A few nearby students picked it up. The rhythm built quickly. Eli stared from inside the locker, amazed and mildly traumatized.
Steven looked around gripping my jackets and hesitantly lifted his fist.
Before I could reply, the gyms back door swung open with a bang. Coach Lawrence stormed out, whistle hanging like an executioner's axe.
"Palchuk!" he bellowed. "Track. Now."
Steve flinched like a kid caught with a slingshot. "Yes, sir."
He stomped off, shoving past me. "Friday, your dead." he hissed again, venomous.
I didn't flinch.
Eli stumbled free from the locker, brushing himself off. "Dude. Thanks. That was—I mean—thank you."
I gave a tight nod. "Stick to the shadows for a few days. Steve's not exactly a fan of public embarrassment."
As we walked away, Toby raised his brows. "You're lucky he didn't throw a punch."
"He almost did."
"Exactly."
I shrugged. "I'm not afraid of Steve. I'd be more upset if I let people get hurt just because I stayed quiet."
Toby didn't say anything to that.
By the time we grabbed our bikes and started riding home, the sun had begun its descent. The sky was still blue but the golden light cast long shadows across the pavement, the breeze felt good.
"You know you're insane, right?" Toby said, swerving slightly to avoid a pothole.
"Always."
"He's gonna try to kill you Friday."
"I've survived worse."
Toby paused. "Like what? AP Bio?"
I qwerked my eyebrow at him but didn't answer.
He sighed. "Well, when you're in the hospital, I'll tell your mom it was a noble sacrifice."
Speaking of—
A familiar car pulled up alongside us. My mom rolled down the window, her hospital badge still clipped to her scrubs.
"Hey, sweetie. I'm working a double tonight, so it's all you. Would you hold down the fort for me?"
"Sure think mom, I'll make breakfast for you as well." I called back.
She smiled, gave a quick wave to Toby, and drove off.
We reached my house ten minutes later. The sun was almost gone now, dragging night in its wake. Toby waved and pedaled down the block, promising to text me when he got home.
I stepped inside the house, dropped my bag, and kicked off my shoes. Silence greeted me like an old friend.
I didn't turn on the main light. The TV's glow was enough. I sat down on the arm of the couch as I reached into my pocket.
The amulet.
I held it in my palm and whispered the phrase.
"For the Glory, of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command..."
Nothing.
"For the good of all, daylight is mine to command."
Nothing.
But then—
A noise.
A thump.
Not from upstairs.
Below.
I froze.
The basement.