I was fully immersed in my book, eyes glued to the pages, words blurring into imagery and action that transported me somewhere far from my cramped classroom. It was the best kind of escape—losing myself so entirely that the outside world, the faint chatter of classmates, the hum of the fluorescent lights above, all faded away.
Just as the plot was thickening, a shadow caught my eye. Barry was fidgeting in his seat, eyes darting around as though he'd lost something important. Raising an eyebrow, I leaned over. "Barry, what're you looking for?"
He glanced at me with a sheepish grin, running a hand through his mess of curly hair. "Man, I forgot my lunch at home. Again."
I chuckled, trying to keep my voice low enough not to attract the teacher's attention. "Seriously, Barry? How many times this week?"
"Don't remind me," he groaned, standing up and already making a beeline for the door. "I'll be back soon."
He disappeared in a flash, leaving me alone at my desk, still chuckling at his usual antics. My laughter faded as I turned back to my book, but an unsettling thought struck me—a sudden pang of panic that made me snap my gaze to my own bag.
Wait. Did I remember to pack my keys?
I reached down, fingers fumbling as I began to search my bag, rifling through textbooks, loose papers, and yesterday's unfinished math homework. No keys. Heart racing, I dug into my desk, my hands desperate now, shuffling through every pocket and corner where they might be hiding. Nothing.
"Agh," I muttered under my breath, a wave of dread rising. "Not again. Mom is going to kill me."
Then it hit me—the lockers. My keys had to be there. They just had to be.
Trying to keep my cool, I got up from my seat and made my way out of the classroom, feeling the familiar anxiety churn in my stomach. If I didn't find them, I'd have no way to get back home tonight, and sleeping outside? Not my ideal Monday plan.
The hallway felt unusually quiet as I made my way to the locker bays. Each step echoed, the stillness amplifying the hammering of my heart as I stopped in front of my locker. Taking a deep breath, I focused on the small combination lock, my fingers trembling slightly as I rotated the wheel.
Left, right, left.
Time felt like it stretched out forever. I swear I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my forehead. Finally, with a satisfying click, the lock released, and I swung open the door.
There they were. My keys, lying on the top shelf.
Relief flooded me, and I let out a sigh so deep it felt like I'd been holding my breath for hours. "Found them," I muttered, grinning to myself. "Guess I won't be sleeping outside tonight."
But as I moved to close the locker, something else caught my eye—something I hadn't seen there before. A closed notebook lay just beside where I'd found my keys. Its cover was a deep, almost hypnotic shade of black, with strange, intricate carvings etched into the leather. I blinked, suddenly feeling like the air had grown heavier, as if the notebook itself had an unexplainable weight.
"What…?" I whispered, reaching out and lifting it up to examine it more closely. The designs on the cover were beautiful, swirling patterns that twisted in ways that defied logic, as though they were alive. I ran my fingers over the texture, feeling the roughness of the carvings under my touch.
Turning the notebook over, I noticed some text etched on the back. It was faint, but as I leaned closer, I could make out the words.
"Beware, for whatever is written in this book will become true, except for wealth, health, and love. Keep in mind that the book will not work if written on using another pen, and so it goes for the pen."
A chill ran down my spine as I read the warning. I stared at the words, waiting for some kind of punchline to reveal itself, but there was none. Just that ominous message.
"Yeah, right," I muttered to myself, feeling the hairs on my neck prickle. "Good joke, Barry."
Still, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of curiosity. It was such an elaborate prank, and the notebook was…well, it was too well-crafted to be something you'd find lying around. Its leather felt genuine, aged as if it had been handled by countless people over the years. And it wasn't the kind of thing Barry would usually come up with. But then again, Barry had surprised me before.
Opening the notebook carefully, I found a pen tucked neatly in the corner, snug against the inner spine as if it belonged there. It was sleek, black, and remarkably similar in design to the notebook. Its nib gleamed faintly under the dim hallway lights. I was amused by how intricately designed the pen was—just as mysterious and beautiful as the notebook.
I flipped through a few pages, noting that they were blank but had a strange texture, almost like parchment. There were more than enough pages to start a novel with. Barry's prank or not, it would make a great notebook for our little bet.
"Forgot my lunch, huh?" I muttered, recalling Barry's hurried exit. "That's the best excuse you could come up with?"
I shook my head, laughing to myself as I held the notebook. The plan was so obvious now. Barry's whole "forgot-my-lunch" excuse was just a setup to sneak into my locker and plant the notebook there. He wanted to make this bet as personal as possible, to mess with me, knowing I'd find it.
Still chuckling, I tucked the notebook under my arm, imagining the look on his face when I called him out on his "ingenious" prank. Little did I know, this was far more than a harmless joke. As I walked away, the warning text on the back of the notebook began to fade, the words vanishing one by one until nothing was left but the carved leather.