Simon and his friends think school is predictable until locker 213 starts giggling, smelling like candyfloss, and answering back.
Simon, who took his coffee seriously enough to brew it in a thermal mug and call it "espresso from the machine," had just settled the day’s most important argument with Zuza and Tom: whether the maths test had been sabotage or a crime against humanity.
Their school was the kind of building that looked simple from the outside and behaved like a maze once you were inside, all dead ends, echoing corridors and corners that seemed to appear out of spite. It collected rumours the way other schools collected trophies. Still, none of them expected trouble to be waiting beside the candy bar machines.
It was 8:00 on Wednesday when Simon stopped in front of locker 213 and heard a giggle from inside it.
He froze. At that hour, nobody was supposed to be funny. Not the teachers, not the students, not the building itself.
At first he blamed Zuza. She had the talent for pranks and the calm face of someone who could deny anything with conviction. But when Simon pulled the locker open, a sweet wave of candyfloss smell burst out, and Konrad’s head appeared from the darkness, hair sticking up like he’d been electrocuted by bad decisions.
"Don’t ask," Konrad said, hauling out a backpack that looked far too heavy to contain books and, somehow, a plush flamingo. "This locker is a portal."
Tom arrived a second later, stared at the scene, and said, "That would explain the Wi-Fi."
Then locker 213 shuddered.
The metal door trembled under Simon’s hand. A blue light leaked through the crack, thin at first, then bright enough to make everyone blink. The buzzing from the vending machines cut off. Even the corridor seemed to hold its breath.
A voice came from inside the locker, soft and almost amused.
"Who dares come in?"
Simon looked at Zuza. Zuza looked at Tom. Tom, for once, looked less certain than the locker.
And then the door began to open by itself.