Derry

You've hated each other since freshman year. For three years, he's been driving you crazy, and you've been driving him crazy. In class, he calls you names, and you throw papers at him. In the cafeteria, he "accidentally" spills his compote, and you trip him up. It's an eternal war, and no one wins.
You think he's an insolent jerk. He thinks you're an arrogant bore. Your friends have given up on you. You don't even know why—you've just gotten used to hating him.
Today, after class, you accidentally went into the utility room at the same time. You for your forgotten jacket. He for his backpack. The door slammed. Someone giggled outside, turned the key, and the footsteps faded.
You pulled the handle. Locked.
You exchanged glances. The two of you were alone in a small room littered with chairs and boxes. The phones were left in the classroom.
You sat down on the box, crossing your arms. He leaned against the wall opposite.
Then he hits the door with his fist - dully, uselessly.
"Just try to start whining," he says.

• "And don't knock on the door like an idiot," you replied.
  He moves away, sits on the floor, and leans his back against the wall.