An Apple a Day

Zane Joly

        Bea looked at the email the school had sent out. It stated her schedule, where her classes were, which teachers taught them, and her locker number. Locker number 0000. Or, as it was more commonly referred to, the cursed locker.

Her sophomore year was beginning soon, and Bea had heard about locker 0000. It was a shade of slightly faded indigo that didn’t match the other bright blue lockers. Every time the school tried to paint it, the paint had failed to stick and rubbed off within a week. There was a lock on it that no one knew how to remove. The administration had tried to use lock-cutters, but the cutters had broken, and the lock had barely been scratched. The cursed locker was in a really convenient spot, in the center of school, near all the major walkways but enough out of the way you wouldn’t be caught in the flood of students if you stood by it to use it. Or at least, the locker would be useful and convenient for all these reasons if it wasn’t permanently locked shut.

The email said to message back if the recipient noticed any mistakes or had any requests. Bea sent a response saying that while she was fine with her courses, she would like to change to a more functional locker.

The next day, Bea got a return email saying that every locker was in use and that many students did not get any lockers at all, so they were unable to transfer her to a new one. Bea leaned back in her chair and groaned. She already had enough to worry about without having a useless locker. Fine. She’d go through the year without one.

Before class on the first day of school, Bea went to locker 0000, just to see if she could miraculously figure out how to open it. Its signature coat of paint made it easy to find. Bea stood in front of the locker and inspected it. Its design was a bit different from the other lockers. It was a couple inches wider, and its slots were positioned lower than the others. A simple lock hung on the latch. It looked like it was a key-lock, small and black. Bea noticed a tiny apple painted on the front of the lock. That was odd. She lifted it up to see the keyhole, and furrowed her brows when she saw there wasn’t one. She looked at the top, the bottom, the sides. There was no keyhole anywhere on the lock. There were no number or letter dials to enter. Absolutely nothing that indicated the lock could be opened. Bea tugged on it. It was secure, clinging to the locker with a death grip.

Bea went to her first class, grumbling.

By her third week, Bea was more mad at her locker than ever. She had to carry all her notebooks and textbooks and binders and folders and supplies for each class in her backpack, and it would be a miracle if her spine wasn’t crushed into a fine dust by the end of the year.

The sophomore girl was walking through the halls with an apple in hand. Her math teacher had been generous enough to let her turn in an assignment a week late with only a minor point deduction, and Bea had wanted to thank him with an apple. Her lunch box didn’t have any room, and she couldn’t put it in her backpack, because it would get bruised from being crammed in next to everything else, so she had to carry it around until her math class, which was at the end of the day.

As she walked, Bea passed by her locker. “Thank you for nothing,” she muttered. Clank. Bea stopped. She looked towards the locker. The lock swung gently, as if it had just been moved, but there was no one near. Curious, Bea moved closer. The little red apple on the lock seemed brighter than usual. The tip of the apple in her hand’s stem tapped the metal door. Suddenly, the lock fell open.

Bea stared at it. The unopenable lock had opened. For no reason, just at random. The girl reached for the lock and quickly slid it out of the locker before it could change its mind. She opened the locker. The first thing she noticed was that it was remarkably clean of dust. On the back wall of the locker there was a small poster that said “Hello!” in large yellow letters. The poster also showed the word hello in about a dozen other languages. It was the kind of thing that a language teacher would have on the wall in their class. A calendar was on the interior of the locker door. Bea with a start saw that the calendar was for her school year, 2016-2017. “How the hell did that happen?” she quietly asked herself.

Lying at the bottom of the locker was a notebook, a lunchbox, a water bottle, and a pencil, all the same indigo shade as the locker. The notebook had a sword symbol on the cover. The lunchbox had a five pointed star with a circle around it on its lid. The water bottle had a cup design on its side, and the pencil had on the side of it the symbol of a torch. Bea moved everything already in the locker to the side, before setting down her backpack. She put the apple and some of her books that she didn’t need until later today in the locker. She sighed in relief at the lessened weight on her back.

  Bea closed the locker. The lock was still hanging open in her hand. Tonight, she’d get an actual, working lock and then she would have an actual working locker. But for today, she had to hope nobody would steal from it. She put the lock back on the locker but didn’t close it. It wouldn’t actually look locked to other students who gave more than a passing glance, but hopefully it would work for the rest of the day.

With that, Bea hurried off to class. She returned to the locker at lunch. The lock was closed, shutting all her books inside. Had someone passing by closed it? Dread flowed over Bea and she reached for the lock. As soon as her finger touched it, it fell open. “Oh,” she said. What was up with this lock?

She opened the locker and got her things. She put in the books and materials she didn’t have any more use for today, and pulled out the things she needed. Bea reached for the apple, but her hand found only air. She looked inside the locker, high and low. The apple was nowhere to be seen. It had simply vanished. Had someone stolen it? But everything else was still there. Why would someone just steal an apple?

Then Bea noticed the poster at the back of the locker. It wasn’t the same “Hello!” poster. This one said at the top “An apple a day”. The rest of the poster was worn away, and Bea could only vaguely make out the image of a cartoon doctor and more text on the bottom, and she could presume what proverb the poster was reiterating. But how had the poster changed? There were far too many weird things going on. Bea closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm down. When she opened her eyes, the poster was different. It showed an apple on a teacher’s desk with the text “Say thanks with an apple” above it in bubbly light blue letters.

Bea barely had the mental stamina for the rest of her classes, she most certainly could not deal with a prank, or a very weird locker ghost, or whatever this was. She closed the locker and walked away. She heard the sound of the lock clicking shut on its own behind her.

At the end of the day, Bea returned to her locker. A variety of justifications for all that had happened were in her mind, none of them very plausible. Looking down at the lock, she realized the apple on it had disappeared. She poked the lock, and it fell open.

Bea opened the locker. The poster inside showed a cartoonish drawn girl waving with the words “See you tomorrow!”

“Yeah,” the sophomore answered uncertainly. She deposited what she didn’t need in the locker. To make room, she took out the water bottle, pencil, notebook, and lunch box that had already been in the locker and put them in her bag. She might keep the notebook and pencil, but she’d throw the water bottle and lunch box out, she already had others, and if they had been in this locker for years, they probably weren’t as good as their modern equivalents. She just hoped there was no rotting food in the lunchbox. With that, Bea headed home.

After Bea had finished her homework and eaten her dinner, she sat in her room with the pencil, notebook, water bottle, and lunchbox in front of her. She took a deep breath and opened the lunchbox with the star and circle on the lid, sure she would either be greeted with an empty box or a mold-covered, several year old sandwich that smelled like death. Instead what she saw was a small tupperware container of carrots, one with green apple slices, one with a peanut butter sandwich cut in the shape of a circle with no crust, and a small container of chocolate milk. All clean and fresh. Bea hesitantly opened the apple container and picked up a slice. She bit into it cautiously. It tasted sweet, and a little sour, like a fresh green apple.

Bea sampled a little bit of every item in the lunchbox. They all tasted perfectly ordinary, maybe a little more fresh than average. She put everything back in the lunch box. Bea took a small sip from the water bottle. It tasted like water, nothing out of the ordinary there.

For the rest of the night, she experimented. The water bottle was always full of cold water, and the lunchbox didn’t do much besides just hold the food, though Bea noticed the chocolate milk always stayed cool. The pencil and notebook took longer to figure out. Eventually she managed to discover that the pencil with the torch drawn on the side was always sharp, and neither its point nor eraser ever wore down or broke. The notebook with the sword on the cover somehow held seemingly infinite pages, and she could find anything in it by just thinking about the page she wanted and opening it.

Bea couldn’t think of any other explanation. She had a magic locker. A magic locker that showed her the type of posters that were on teacher’s walls and that she’d always found annoying. A magic locker that had some weird thing with apples. Okay then.

The next morning, Bea opened the lunch box and found all the food in it was replenished. She decided to take the indigo lunch box and water bottle in place of her regular ones, and she put in the sword notebook and torch pencil as well. Even with the extra additions, her backpack had more room in it than usual, and was considerably lighter, as all the indigo objects weighed very little. Bea decided to also put in an apple.

At school, the sophomore walked up to her locker. It was locked again, and didn’t open when she touched it. The little apple drawing had reappeared on the lock. Bea uncertainly took the apple out of her backpack and tapped it against the locker. The apple disappeared on the lock and it clicked open. Bea took out the lock and reopened her locker. The poster on the back said “Good Morning!” Bea blinked to see if it would change and when she opened her eyes again, the poster said, “It’s good to see you again!”

Bea took the books she needed out of her locker and tried to shut it, but the door stuck. She pushed harder, but it wouldn’t move. When she looked back at the poster it showed an image of an apple with a large “A is for apple” above it.

Bea put the apple in the locker, and felt the door unstick. “Why do you need an apple?” she asked, “The lunchbox magically makes apple slices.”

She deliberately blinked and saw the new poster, depicting a wrapped present passing between two sets of hands. At the bottom it said, “It’s the thought that counts”. Bea wasn’t entirely sure what it was trying to communicate, but she nodded and closed the locker anyway, putting the apple lock back on.

Throughout the day, she wrote with the indigo pencil and took notes in the indigo notebook. At lunch she ate from the lunchbox and drank from the water bottle. And the next day, she brought an apple and did it all again.

A month later, Bea showed up one morning, having forgotten her apple. She only realized it when she was rummaging around in her backpack for the fruit and couldn’t find it. She looked up at the locker, with the apple on the lock.

“Come on,” she pleaded, “My textbooks are in there. I need them. I’ll give you… two apples tomorrow.”

The lock swung gently side to side, as if it wasn’t sure. “Fine,” Bea relented, “Three apples.” The apple drawing on the lock vanished and it clicked open.

When she opened the locker, Bea saw that the poster said “Always try to return a favor.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, taking out the textbooks she needed. 

The next day, there were three apple drawings on the lock and she put in the promised three fruits. The poster showed how to say the word “thanks” in several languages.

It was near the end of Bea’s sophomore fall semester, and studying for finals was going to drive her insane. She had two late assignments, and three projects that were due soon. Bea’s mind was a hurricane of due dates and anxiety and she was barely even able to open the locker. The poster at the back of the locker said “Don’t forget to drink plenty of water.” Bea absently sipped from the water bottle. And instantly, her breathing and heartbeat slowed, and the storm in her head eased. After a moment of being startled, she drank more from the water bottle. It cooled her down and helped soothe her a bit more. The anxiety, worry, and problems were all still there, but she was no longer having a melt down. She’d thought that a permanently full and cool water bottle might have been a little less magical compared to the other objects. It turned out, it could also help ease panic attacks, even more than cold water usually could.

“Thanks,” she said to the locker, “I needed that.”

At the spring semester of her sophomore year, Bea asked the locker, “So, what are you?”

She closed and reopened her eyes. The back of the locker was empty. Bea couldn’t explain how, but she was reminded of the mental image of a person chewing on their bottom lip as they tried to answer a difficult question.

After waiting five seconds, Bea closed and reopened her eyes again. The poster showed a student reading from a large book in a library, and above it the text read “Sometimes, it’s worth the research”. There was a new book in the locker, titled “forms of spiritualism in wicca and witchcraft”.

“Witches?” Bea asked, before blinking.

The poster in the locker said, “Don’t judge others.” Bea blinked again and it showed a halloween poster of a witch cackling on a broom, flying through a starry sky. There was a large red X painted over the poster.

“Alright, alright,” Bea said.

It took Bea about a week to finish reading the book. It was interesting, but it mostly didn’t seem relevant to the locker, except for the three sections in it that were highlighted. The first section read “An idea that is certainly not unique to wicca but that is included in many forms of it is offerings. Many religions practice giving material gifts to metaphysical entities, in return for favors or blessings.”

Only a few sentences later was the highlighted line, “In some interpretations, it is the intention of the offering and the idea of what it represents that are important, not the actual physical object itself.”

And later in the book was the chapter on tarot, with the highlighted section, “The four minor arcana suits and symbols of tarot are the sword, the wand/torch, the cup, and the pentacle. The sword represents the element of air as well as intellect, the mind, and thought. The wand or torch represents the element of fire as well as creation, change, and power. The cup or bowl represents the element of water as well as emotions. The pentacle, a pentagram star inside a circle, represents the element of earth, symbolizing wealth and the physical, solid, or material.”

Interesting, thought Bea.

The day after finishing the book, she brought it back to the locker. “Thank you for the reading material,” she said, “I think I understand a little bit better. Anyways, I hope you find this acceptable.” Bea set a slightly lopsided origami apple she’d made into the locker.

The poster said “variety is the spice of life” with little rainbow sparkles all around it.

“Glad you think so,” said Bea.

Bea never applied to change her locker again. She stayed with it as she entered her junior year. She delivered an apple to the locker every day. It accepted every type of apple. It took origami apples and even just good drawings of apples. As far as Bea could figure out, it liked apples because they were given to teachers. The locker interpreted them as a kind of tribute, an offering, and so it asked for apples in exchange for its blessings. 

The girl still wasn’t quite sure what or who the locker was, but over time she began to get an impression of its personality. It had a sense of humor, it was calm, it was patient.

The junior continued to use the four objects of the locker, but it gave other, subtler blessings as well.

Erin snorted and let out an embarrassingly loud laugh. “You need to stop telling me funny stories before my calculus class!” she said as she and Bea walked side by side down the halls, “I can’t stop thinking about it, and then I look weird for chuckling at factoring trinomials.”

“I do it only to embarrass you,” said Bea, “Humiliating you is my sole purpose for going to school every day.”

“I knew it,” said Erin, “Alright, I gotta go. Talk to you later.”

Bea stared after Erin as she walked away, mesmerized by the way her dyed blue dreadlocks swayed behind her as she moved. How was even her hair beautiful? She was so distracted she ran straight into her locker. She shook her head and opened the locker, grumbling to herself, “She doesn’t even like girls.”

When she looked up, there was no poster at the back of the locker. Instead, there was a bi pride flag. Bea was certain she was a lesbian, so if it wasn’t about her…

“I asked around,” said Bea, “She’s only ever had boyfriends in the past.” She closed her eyes and reopened them. 

There was a poster of an astronaut standing on the moon. Around him, in sparkly white letters were the words “Always remember that you could be the first!”

Bea blushed and crammed the books she needed into her backpack. After considering for a moment, she turned and ran down the hall in the direction Erin had gone. “Hey! Erin, wait up!”

“Yeah?” the other girl asked, turning around.

“Do you want to… go out sometime?” Bea asked, every fiber of her being buzzing with nervousness, “Like to a movie? In a… not just friends way?”

The other girl smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that,” she said, “I think I’ve already got your number, so we can decide what movie to see and when over text.”

“That sounds great,” said Bea, smiling like an idiot.

“I’m new to, well, girls, so I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to ask you out or if…” Erin trailed off, “Anyways, I’m glad you did. But I really have to get to class now. Bye!”

When Bea opened the locker later that day, there was a poster covered in hearts at the back. “Shut up,” the girl muttered.

The locker, as it turned out, was an excellent wingman. Or wingwoman, or wingperson, or wingthing. The calendar inside the door reminded Bea of Erin’s birthday and it even reminded her of their anniversary a year later. The locker provided small boxes of sweets as well as roses.

As supportive as the locker was of Bea’s romantic life, she sometimes pushed her luck when it came to other gifts.

“Hey,” Bea quietly said to the locker, near the end of her junior year, “AP tests are coming up, and I was wondering if you could maybe help me out?”

When she blinked, there was a poster saying “Always say what you mean.”

“I mean,” Bea continued, further lowering her voice even though there wasn’t anyone nearby, “Could you help me cheat?”

When she closed and reopened her eyes, the poster read, “Cheating is never the answer.”

“Oh come on,” she protested, “Just for my english test? I’ll give you apples. Lots and lots of apples.” The poster did not change.

“Ugh, fine,” said Bea, “But if I fail one of my AP tests, I’m going to feed you rotten apple mush.”

After her last test, when she opened the locker there was a small “Congratulations!” banner hanging at the back of it.

“Can you at least tell me if I passed the tests?” she asked.

Bea blinked and there was a poster depicting confetti with the words “You did it!”

The junior gave a whoop of joy, which caused several people in the hallway to give her looks of concern and surprise.

Several weeks later in summer when her results came back, she’d passed all her tests.

The last bell of the senior school year rang. Bea walked through the halls to her locker. She opened it and took out her textbooks. She left inside of it the four indigo objects. When she looked up at the poster it showed how to say “goodbye” in multiple languages.

Bea stroked her hand up the door. “I’ll miss you,” she said.

When she looked back, the poster showed a bird on a branch. And said “no one should be lonely.” The poster was clearly supposed to have two birds together on the branch, but one was rubbed and faded away until it was nearly invisible. The image was a lot sadder with just the lone bird.

“I’m sorry,” Bea said. Then she spotted someone moving by her in the hallway. “Hold on,” she said, before dashing over to tap the person on the shoulder. Erin’s little brother, Thomas, turned and looked up at Bea curiously.

“Oh, hey Bea,” he said.

“Hey Thomas,” said Bea, “You’re going to be a sophomore next year, right? You’ll get a locker?”

“If I’m lucky, yeah,” he answered.

“Great,” said Bea, “Take locker 0000, even if it isn’t the locker assigned to you. No one else will be using it, because it’s really hard to open. You just have to tap the front of it with an apple.”

“An apple?” Thomas asked.

“Trust me,” said Bea. She walked back to the locker, its door still hanging open. “See? I found someone new for you.” She gave the door a soft kiss and closed it for the last time, shutting the apple lock shut.

“Remember,” Bea said to Thomas, who had watched all of this, “an apple a day.”

“You’re kind of weird,” Thomas said. 

As Bea walked down the hallway for the final time, she said, “You have no idea.”