A guy finds an old phone in his locker with memories that don't belong to him, or do they?

My name is Edwin, and here's a scary story.

An old dusty hoodie was at the bottom of my locker.

I stretched it out in front of an old friend of mine, who was more excited about it than I was.

It was a sweater I took off in Mrs. Burson's class because she said it was going to catch on fire during ChemLab.

Paul, my best friend, was trying to get some help in opening his locker.

The guy always forgot his combination and it was probably his fourth or fifth lock that year.

Fortunately, we wouldn't have to worry about it for a while.

We were about to be seniors and it was about to be summer break.

So there I was, cleaning out my locker as I had to do and everyone else was doing.

Old candy wrappers, sheets of paper with big red circles and numbers, notes we had passed during class, and stuck at the bottom

of the corner, almost wedged against the bottom of the locker itself, was a cell phone. I didn't

remember ever having it or borrowing it from anybody.

I thought that maybe someone had gotten the wrong locker and placed it in there,

but the lock was mine. No one else had been sharing it with me.

Had it been somewhere in between my books one day and it just stayed there?

My stuff was set on the floor now when I inspected it.

An iPhone, an older one, maybe the eight or ten.

I think they had skipped nine for some reason, but I couldn't remember it.

Either way, it didn't look familiar.

Its screen was scratched.

It looked like it had been damaged from where you put the cable to charge it.

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