Chris Hargenson still has her right arm in her locker when the door swings shut, and very nearly misses taking her arm off. She jumps backwards in alarm, before she stiffens. She senses that someone is behind her, and she scowls.
Carrie White.
She barely has the time to marvel at the fact that she had known who was behind her before she turns around and grins unpleasantly.
"Well, well," She says, "If it isn't Scary White. I heard about your little accident at prom. How unfortunate."
Carrie doesn't speak, but her gaze bores into her soul, and Chris bites back the urge to shift on her feet. She feels naked. She knows.
"Hmm." She says, "Who ratted me out, then?"
Again, Carrie does not speak. Chris rolls her eyes. The freak had only gotten weirded since the events of prom.
Weirder, and bolder.
"Look," Chris snaps, "If you're here for any apology, you're not gonna get one." She turns back to her locker and is fiddling with the combination lock when she adds under her breath, "I'd rather die before apologizing to you."
"That could be arranged." Chris freezes and drops her hand.
"Is that a threat?" She says, turning on Carrie.
The girl only shrugs, and Chris leers at her. "You're a weird bitch, White."
Carrie presses her lips together and narrows her eyes. "I see." She says, and turns to walk away.
She pauses a few steps away, and over her shoulder, she says, "Have a wonderful day, Christine." Chris watches her walk off.
What the hell?
Squashing the unease that had built in her stomach, she turns back to her locker once more and groans.
The lock has been jammed, trapping both her books and cell phone inside. She drops her head against the locker door and swears.
God damn you, Carrie White.