Till It Happens To You | q. grimes

007

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FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD ANJALI opened her locker with a yawn, patting her mouth as she began to shrug off her peach-colored Jansport backpack. The rest of the checkered-tile hallway was crowded with students of different ages socializing before homeroom. The school's air-conditioning was on high despite it only being early September, causing Anjali to shiver the tiniest bit.

Once she ensured that no one was standing at either of the lockers, Anjali zipped open the smallest pouch of her bag and pulled out a miniature bronze statue of Ganesha wrapped in a silk crimson cloth. She took a deep breath before closing her eyes, putting her free hand palm up to the ceiling, and muttering a prayer for success in Tamil.

It was the first day of high school.

She was going to need it.

Anjali stood on her tiptoes to place the idol on the top shelf of her locker, placing the silk cloth under the base when the point of an elbow knocked against the metal of the shelf, causing a clang. The statue hit the tiled floor and the head of Ganesha split from its body.

This was the worst omen that Anjali could've received on a day like today. The head of Ganesha had landed along the base of the set of beige lockers, staring up at her in all its former glory, complete with an elaborate headdress.

"Ganesha," Anjali looked down in horror, stooping down to pick both pieces of the statue and then whirling around on whoever the elbow belonged to. There was now a taller black boy resting his shoulder against the locker on the left of her, deep in conversation with a brunette.

Furious, Anjali jabbed her finger into his shoulder blade to capture his attention. When the boy turned around, she held up her broken statue, "Do you maybe wanna watch where your elbow is going next time?"

The boy rolled his eyes, "I didn't touch you."

"No," Anjali admitted, "You just broke my shit."

"Says who?" The boy replied.

"Oh, so, I just broke this on my own?" Anjali asked in a sarcastic tone.

"Maybe, I mean," The boy scanned her with indifference, "You look clumsy."

Anjali balled up her tongue in her cheek for a moment, "Or maybe you're just a dick who-."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Mateo's voice traveled from just a little further up in the hallway and he squeezed himself in between Anjali and the boy, "What's going on?"

"He killed Ganesha." Anjali spat, her eyes narrowed as she held up the broken statue. Mateo looked down at the two objects before looking toward the boy still leaning against the closed locker on Anjali's left, "Just say sorry, Drew, and get her another one."

Anjali turned to Mateo, "Yeah, sorry isn't going to cut it. This was blessed by a priest in Madurai. You can't just get another one." Anjali glanced between the boys, noting Mateo's clear confusion and Drew's apathy.

"I'm not getting her shit," Drew rolled his eyes again before walking off.

She huffed, "Whatever," Anjali fervently wrapped the cloth around the idol so that the head would stay in place before slipping it back into the small pouch in her backpack.