Thomas Noland

Thomas Noland, nicknamed "Tom" since kindergarten, was hiding inside a closet labeled "Lost and Found." Shifting the piles of dirty clothes to one side, he attempted to find balance inside the small closet—it just had a little bit more space than the locker, and if it didn't, it'd be labeled as a locker instead.

That was his last day at Jackson Middle High School in Deer Park. But why was he hiding in a closet filled with dirty, lost clothes? instead of a locker.

Immediately, the strides of some sneakers stroll around the closet. They stopped and, not very long, the lockers were open, giving a loud clank. It was very noisy in such a way that one would think that a locker fight was going on.

Clank!

The last locker wiggled forth and back with the hinges giving a whistling sound. "That Dutchbag is not here!" A voice said. It was  longing to kill whomsoever provoked it, because you can tell that from his strenuous breath. "That annoying freak, he's not hiding in the lockers again."

After the futile search, the sneakers started to squeak out of that area, giving an echo as they marched down the hall—probably to continue their search or to give up.

Tom had the feeling of unlatching the closet in order to step out, but he knew he had to wait for five more minutes. By then, his pursuers would've been totally fed up with searching for him.

BUZZZ

The phone in his bag vibrated. "Shit!" He propped down his bag and brought out his phone. Right on the home screen, he could see his dad calling him. Well, school was over and all the kids had gone home to enjoy the weekend coming up—too bad for him, he's stuck running away from the people that always like to pick up on him.

All the time, he always gets the kicks or blows. He couldn't count how many times he had been to the school clinic, either for a broken arm or a bleeding nose, maybe something worse than that. Due to his routine check-up at the school clinic, the nurse has already tagged him as "Tommy the Invincible," though as a joke.

He has even gotten special recognition from the school principal because his parents always come around to complain about him being bullied, but the same thing always happens. Nothing had been decided to change—so he didn't have a hard time accepting his life being that way.

But today—on this particular day, the bullies got the kicks and blows. When Tom found out about his last day at Jackson Middle High School, he decided that he would give his last presents to his dreadful friends—the bullies. That day, during the chemistry practical, he did pull a little prank on those dull brains.

"DO NOT PUT ACID IN WATER, BUT WATER IN ACID," says the first rule of chemistry.

    Because of their fish brain, they fell for Tom's prank when he replaced the acid holder with a beaker filled with water and the water holder with a beaker filled with acid. And then, BOOM!, they got splashed. Without a fortune teller saying anything, they already knew who did it. Nobody else if not Tom, and that's how he got into the closet of lost and found.

BUZZZ

"Alright, dad, I'm coming," he said, with a hoarse voice. "I bet those punks are not hanging around." He climbed out of the closet, closing the door quietly. He looked through the hallway sideways carefully before making his steps. He hadn't walked an inch when he perceived something awful. "Awww, what's that?" he said, pinching his nose hard to prevent the smell from entering his nostrils. He could even taste it on his tongue. He started looking around him, checking if he could see anything that could give off such an odour, but he didn't see anything.

"Wait, what's that?" He let go a bit of his nose in order to trace the odour. He couldn't believe he was doing that—sniffing an odour. His facial expression changed suddenly as his hand went behind him, touching his backpack, and at that point he felt something—a cloth, somewhat a—"Jeez, what the fuck". He threw away the boxer, which hung on his backpack zip.

His face changed into a nasty expression, like he wanted to throw up. He ran out of the hall and located his dad's car just right in front of the school.

Walking up to him, his face was still gagging, which made his father, Mr. Noland, wonder what was wrong with him. "Is that some Halloween face-making?" He erupted into a big laugh. "Cause it ain't Halloween yet, and that is the wrong Halloween face."

Tom didn't find any of it funny, though he gave a dispatching laugh still mixed with the gagging face.

SLAM! The car door closed as Tom jumped into the car.

"Whoa, son."

"Dad, do you have any hand sanitizer with you?" Tom couldn't get himself to touch anything, as his fingers were still in the wrinkled shape that he walked out of the school with.

"Why?" His dad asked, getting confused. First of all, the throw-up face and a wrinkled finger like a witch in one of those haunted movies, and now a hand sanitizer—'Did he wipe his poops with his hands?' Dad wondered.

"You don't want to get COVID—do you?" As soon as Tom said that, his dad sprinted to the car dashboard in search of hand sanitizer.

"Thanks."