If the telephone booth could talk, what stories it would tell. It has sat in the corner of the lobby for ten years and will continue to sit there for ten more. It is a two meter by two meter glass box with a wooden bench inside. The walls were recently covered by a mural of monarch butterflies, making the booth opaque to anyone who walks by.

The week before the Spring Fling is full of a heightened energy. There is no school on Monday and the telephone booth sits alone and empty in the dark. Tuesday morning comes too quickly for both the booth and the students. It watches the teenagers flood into the school, looking well rested as they chat about their various long weekends. Before the bell rings, the students congregate in the lobby.

On the bench across from the telephone booth sit six grade eleven girls, their shoulders touching as they crowd together. A girl with brown-hair dyed blond leans out of their huddle long enough to scan the lobby. Her hair nearly flies into the face of one of the scrawny grade nine boys sitting beside her. She makes a face and wiggles more closely to her friends. Presently, Piper, Mackenzie’s best friend, scans the masses swarming through the lobby and calls a name. Lily looks up at her, smiles but then returns to her previous conversation. The telephone booth is especially interested in Lily. The booth knows Lily is not the most popular girl in her grade. As a matter of fact, Mackenize, Piper and the four other girls sitting on the bench hold that title. However, Lily is the booth’s favourite student.

Across the lobby in an inconspicuous corner sit three grade ten girls with red, purple and blue hair, respectively. They each read a book, oblivious to the students who stare down at them with dubious looks in their eyes. The tall boy Brent is one of these students but when he spots some grade twelve classmates in the hall up ahead, he does doubles back. He’ll walk to class the long way today.

Seven hours later, a student with blood leaking out of his nose darts into the telephone booth. He sits down on the bench to catch his breath. He reaches for the phone and dials a number.
“Hello?” says the voice on the other end of the line, “Who is this?”

The boy’s shirt is covered in droplets of blood. He tries to wipe some of them away and they smudge. “Erm…it’s me.”
“Kenny?” the boy on the other end says, “Where are you? Where’s your phone?”
“I…um, lost it.” Kenny glances into the lobby, “Look, can you come pick me up?”
“Kenny, you told Mom you were walking home. I have plans.”

“Please?” Kenny’s voice quivers and he looks disgusted with himself for letting it happen.
“Can’t you get Mom or Dad to drive you?”
Kenny’s nose bleeds out more. Is it broken? “No, um. I can’t. I…er, I might need to go to the doctor.”
“What do you mean you need to go to the doctor? What the hell happened?”
Kenny hesitates. “I ran into a wall, okay? It’s-it’s embarrassing and I don’t want Mom to know. Just come get me. Okay?”

There is a long silence in which Kenny stares at the door, apparently expecting someone to break it in.
Finally Kenny’s brother says, “I’m on my way. Just answer me this: what’s the name of the wall that hit you?”
He’d seen right through it. They don’t always do.
“I ran into a wall,” Kenny says, “I swear.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes. Meet me outside.”

Kenny waits exactly four minutes and fifty seconds inside the telephone booth. When he leaves, he darts around the stragglers in the lobby with his head down and runs out to the parking lot.

On Wednesday morning, Kenny isn’t among the grade nine boys who sit next to Mackenzie on the bench. It is not until one of them says “I think he’s sick” that Mackenzie glances in their direction. She seems to realize that the one with the brown glasses and unruly orange hair isn’t there. Before Piper can catch her attention wandering, Mackenzie turns back to the conversation about the dresses they will wear for the dance.

Mackenzie doesn’t notice the boy named Brent appear at the front of the school, scan the lobby and slink away without a sound. She doesn’t seem to notice that the girl in the corner with the blue hair isn’t reading her book today. Blue hair’s phone buzzes and she cringes. She doesn’t look at her phone, she doesn’t say goodbye to her two friends. She just walks away.

The telephone booth is more experienced than any guidance counselor. It recognizes all the signs. It is not surprised when, instead of attending her last period class, the blue haired girl hides in the telephone booth. She sits on the bench and twirls the phone in her hands. The screen reads New Message! Sent at 8:44 am. Her finger lingers over the delete button, but she presses ‘open’. The message consists of a number of four and five letter nouns that, should a student utter them in class, would be the cause of a trip to the principal’s office.

She deletes the message quickly. “Next time,” she says aloud, “I won’t read it.” Two tears fall onto the screen of her phone and then she hurls it at the wall with all her might. When the phone slams onto the floor the screen cracks and black fluid floods up into the rivets.

“Great,” she says, “Now I’ve broken my phone.” The blue haired girl sits in stony silence. The bell rings and she doesn’t leave. Then, a boy who, if it wasn’t for the hair, would be her twin, opens the door. “There you are Deirdre, Mom is waiting, what are you doing in here?”

Blue hair’s-Deirdre’s-brother is on the large side. He could break the door off the telephone booth if he wanted to. Deirdre kicks her phone under the bench with her foot, “I was trying to call you,” she says, “Let’s go.” She leaves the phone under the bench.

Thursday morning Kenny is back in his place. Mackenzie hasn’t arrived yet, although Piper and her friends are here. They lean into each other and whisper, looking around every few seconds to see if someone is listening. Kenny is also on high alert. His eyes scan the lobby so intently that it becomes clear he’s not involved in his friends’ conversation in the slightest.

All at once, a crowd of students flood through the front doors. First is Lily who breezes through the lobby, past the gym doors and to her friend’s locker. Then Deirdre and her brother enter. Deirdre slinks to the wall, already fishing in her bag for her book. He brother leaves, glancing in Piper’s direction as he goes. Mackenzie hesitates before walking to her friends. Their tight furtive circle has dissolved in the twenty seconds the telephone booth’s attention was elsewhere, and Mackenzie sits down. She seems to notice that her five best friends all have their hair in ponytails at the same time the telephone booth does. Once she’s settled on the bench, Mackenzie pulls an elastic band from her wrist, sticks her hair up, and leans into the conversation.

Mackenzie’s entrance doesn’t raise eyebrows. No one else saw her scramble to pull back her hair. When Brent enters the school, there is a real reaction. Eyes follow him. Subtle nudges among every clique. And then one sentence that is definitely not subtle. Piper puts her mouth to a friend’s ear like she’s about to whisper but raises her voice, “That’s the guy.” Her friends gasp as if this is news. Brent keeps his eyes straight ahead and leaves the lobby.

The bell rings at 8:45am. The students stand up. Books, pencils, and a chorus of “good luck on your test” sentiments are exchanged. Then the groups separate and the lobby is crowded with people walking in every direction. For five minutes, teachers walk through holding attendance sheets, latecomers rush to their lockers and couples kiss each other goodbye. Before long, the lobby is deserted. A homework assignment lies forgotten on a bench. An empty cereal bar wrapper is on the floor. The lobby is quiet. But in the confusion before class, someone has slipped into the telephone booth.

Brent puts his elbows on his knees and leans into them. He sits and stares at the wall. “If I wanted to,” he says to himself, “I could cover this whole booth with the things people have called me recently.” He pulls out his phone, goes to Princeton’s webpage. The words “congratulations” dance across the top of his account, but he doesn’t notice them.

Brent selects the “student life” tab and begins to go through every single item. He sees every picture. He reads the name of every club. He studies the code of conduct and recites the school’s values out loud like they are a prayer. When he finishes this, he’ll go back to the beginning again. He will sit in the telephone booth and wish he was already at Princeton, or anywhere with people who were not discriminatory, for a very long time.

On Friday, students are kept out of the lobby so the dance committee can decorate it. At seven o clock, there are strings of white twinkle lights wound around the walls. There’s even a tissue paper flower stuck on the door of the telephone booth. The students arrive with grins on their faces, feet itching to dance. Brent, Kenny, and Deirdre do not attend. Lily, who is responsible for both the well-decorated lobby and gymnasium, walks in with her friends wearing an earthy white dress. Her hair is wavy as if she’s just come off the beach. Before they turn the corner to enter the gym, a boy slips a sunflower into her hair.

Mackenzie enters a few minutes later with Piper and friends. They look beautiful in body-hugging dresses and make-up obviously done by someone’s older sister. They go into the dance, almost bouncing with excitement. When the music in the gym is turned to full blast, the leftover stragglers in the lobby rush inside. A continuous roar, like the water at Niagara Falls, is heard from behind the gym doors.

Halfway through the night, the gym doors fly open. Mackenzie runs out. She walks to the phone booth with her head high and sits down on the floor inside.

A moment later, Lily and a friend step out of the gym doors. “Want me to go with you?” the friend asks.
Lily starts walking, “I’ve got it.” She walks to the middle of the lobby. She stops as if she isn’t sure where to go. She is, of course. The telephone booth had been Lily’s hideaway last year. She’d started bringing a cushion so she could sit on the floor comfortably without the risk of being seen. That had been before the butterfly mural.

Lily kicks her heels off, opens the door to the phone booth and looks down at Mackenzie. Mackenzie is sobbing so hard she doesn’t notice. So, Lily closes the door and squeezes onto the floor. It’s not the first time two people have been in the phone booth and it won’t be the last, but it will never be comfortable.
“Hey,” Lily says. She puts a hand on Mackenzie’s arm, “Kenzie. What happened?”

“They hate me. All my friends hate me.”
Lily sighs. Her voice is perfectly calm, without even a trace of surprise, as she says “that’s not true.”
“It’s not my fault. It’s just-I mean- I didn’t want to hurt them.”
“What happened?”
Mackenzie pulls her knees to her chest. She speaks fast, almost too quick to process her words. “Do you know that grade ten girl, the one with the blue hair? Her brother broke up with Piper and Piper went after her. I didn’t know what to do. I talked to a guidance counselor and P-Piper f-found out and they said I was a b-b-b-i- and that I betrayed them and-“

“Yeah.”
“And I tried to be strong but every time I turn around they’re whispering about me and they stop talking when I walk up to them. And I was upset with them before all this stuff and I talked to Piper about it and it turns out she turned around and told them everything I said. I trusted her and I can’t. I just. I can’t-“

“I know,” Lily says, “It’s okay. When did you find out?”
“Like f-five minutes ago. They confronted me five minutes ago but I didn’t do anything wrong and now I-I’ve lost them for good. And maybe I wanted to lose them. I mean, they know everything. Everything I’ve ever told Piper-they know about it and they said I betrayed them but-”
Lily has tears in her own eyes, “Okay. Sh, it’s okay.”
“No it’s not. Not it’s not because I just lost my best friends. They’re gone, aren’t they? And now-”
“Okay stop,” Lily’s hands start to shake. She pulled Mackenzie’s hands into her own. “Just stop.” Lily squeezes Mackenzie’s hand, “I knew it was going to happen, Kenzie.”

Mackenzie has calmed a little, “I didn’t think we were the same. I thought it was different for you.”
“It was,” Lily says. She wipes her eyes, “I had it easier, I guess, because we were younger and the stakes weren’t as high. They lie a lot, you know. Every time I heard inconsistencies I’d pull the two girls together, tell them to sort out their lies and come back to me with the truth. But then I never liked the truth.


“And no matter what I did I couldn’t catch them in every lie. I couldn’t unearth the details of every sleepover I wasn’t invited to. I couldn’t find out every single thing someone had said behind my back. I think you’re the only one I never caught in a lie. Over the summer, I just gave up.”

“Piper and I got close over the summer, when you drifted away.” Mackenzie puts her head in her hands, “I always choose the wrong people, don’t I? It’s always been like this. It will always be like this.”
“No it won’t.”
“And then they just abandoned me. All of them. It’s not my fault I asked for help. I didn’t tell guidance that I was a part of it, but I didn’t name any names. It’s not my fault if I didn’t name names. I didn’t rat them out, I swear.”
“Of course it’s not your fault, Kenzie.”

“Deirdre-she can’t. She didn’t. I mean, maybe Piper was right. Maybe she deserves it.”
Lily seems to have regained control. “Is Deirdre the girl Piper is hurting?”

“Yeah,” Mackenzie lowers her voice, “yeah she is. But I mean, she can’t be nice, right? Her bother’s not. You know that niner, Kevin or something? Scrawny, orange hair, covered in bruises and telling everyone he crashed his bike? Deirdre’s brother has been pushing him around, like, every day. He took his phone, his clothes from the change room. If her twin brother is like that, she must be too. Right?”

Lily is quiet for a long time. “War crimes,” she says finally.
“What?”
“That’s what I call the stuff I did with Piper. War crimes. If someone is beating you, you have to beat back, and sometimes you beat innocent people. They are war crimes but they don’t help the actual war.”

“So you’re saying I’ve committed war crimes?” Mackenzie pulls out a compact and stares at a face covered with mascara streaks. She uses the edge of her dress to wipe them away.
“No, I’m asking if you have.”
“Maybe.” Pause. “Yes to Deirdre, and to that guy Brent-but then, everyone is in regards to him.” A longer pause. “What do I do?”

Lily sits on her knees, facing Mackenzie straight on. “You have a decision to make. If you try, Kenzie, they will forgive you. You won’t lose them but it won’t be over. This kind of thing will happen again and again. It’ll be easy, though. You’ll give them the weekend, make up on Monday. Or you become Switzerland and you leave them. Make new friends.”

“I don’t know what I want to do.”
Lily laughs, “Of course you don’t. Give it the weekend. Give it the summer. You’ll get it, Kenzie. You’ll get it eventually.”

Mackenzie pulls out her phone and leans against the wall, “Well, anyway, I’m not going back in there.”
Lily looks at her. “Of course you are.”
“No way. You go. Have fun. I’m staying.”
Lily stands up, “No, you’re not.” She opens the door and pulls Mackenzie up, “You’re going to come back inside and dance with me and my friends-just for tonight.”
Before they leave, Mackenzie puts her hand on Lily’s arm. “Promise me you won’t repeat anything I told you?”
Lily smiled, “Of course I promise.”
Lily took her arm, the girls put on smiles and walked back to the dance. Neither girl noticed the mark where it had hit the wall or the spot of blood on the bench. Neither one noticed the cell phone under the bench, but the telephone booth saw everything. It knows all the school’s secrets. If it could walk, it would bring the cell phone to the office. If it could talk, it would counsel each student that cries inside. If it could talk, it would share everything it knows with the parents, the teachers, the principal, the guidance counselors. It would help students solve the school’s bullying problem.


But the telephone booth can’t talk.