Access Denied (and other eighth grade error messages) (5 page)

“I’m Erin,” I said. “Erin Swift. I guess we’re locker partners.”

“Lucky me.” She spun the lock without checking the combination, swinging the door open on the first try. She frowned as she
surveyed my things.

“Do you need more room?” I said. “Or would you prefer the top shelf? It’s just that I’m on the tall side and—”

“It’s fine,” she said, shoving a large black shoulder bag into the locker and sliding her books onto the bottom shelf. Then
she pulled out a mirror with a magnetic back.

“Mind?” she said, pointing to the inside of the door.

“No.” I didn’t really want to look at myself every day but I also didn’t want to start off the year with an annoyed locker
partner.

She slapped it up and pulled a makeup case out of the black bag. Quickly and expertly, she applied more eyeliner, mascara,
and lip gloss. She rubbed her full lips together, then flicked off a stray bit of mascara stuck to her eyelid. Now she looked
about eighteen.

“So who do you have for homeroom?” I asked.

Pulling a wrinkled piece of paper from a pocket in her skirt, she squinted. “Brown.”

“I’ve got Rochester but they’re both this way,” I said, motioning down the hall. She nodded and started walking quickly. I
fell into step beside her, though I couldn’t tell if she really wanted to walk with me or not. “Which track were you on last
year?”

“None,” she said. “I just moved here from Silicon Valley.” I lifted my eyebrows. The computer mecca? “Near San Jose, California.”

“I know where Silicon Valley is,” I said.

“My bad,” she said. “You into computers?”

“Pretty much.” I told her about the Intranet Club—which would now be the Internet/Intranet Club, I guess—and how my mom was
a webmaster. I didn’t tell her about my totally secret private website and blog because, well, it was totally secret and private
and besides, I’d just met her.

“I’m not usually a joiner,” she said, “but that sounds pretty cool. And my dad’s a real techie, an innovator in some of the
Internet technology. It’s kind of in my blood, you know?”

Great. She probably knew
way
more than I did.

The first bell rang.

“Got to get to homeroom,” I said, turning down the hall.

“Right,” she said. “Thanks for the chat, Erin Swift.”

It wasn’t until I was settled in my seat that I realized she’d never told me her name.