"A laugh-out-loud tour de force." -- Kirkus , starred review Hidden away at Hopewell Elementary School is a magical locker that always delivers a solution to your problems--just not quite in the way you might expect. This highly illustrated series is a fun and accessible read, perfect for reluctant readers looking for a little magic! In the second book of the Locker 37 series, the unthinkable happens. Keisha forgets to do her science homework! The morning it's due, she rushes to Locker 37 and the locker gives her a clock. Not just any clock, mind you. It's a time-travel device that sends Keisha back to whatever time of day she wants during that particular school day, which means she can scrape together enough time in between her classes to finish her homework. Still, there's no time to help Carson with his stained shirt or to answer Bryce's gummy bear questions (don't ask). Keisha only has time to make things right--but should she use it for herself or for her friends? Aaron Starmer was born in northern California and raised in the suburbs of Syracuse, New York. Before pursuing writing full-time, he worked in New York City for over ten years as an editor for a travel bookseller and as an operations director for an African safari company. His middle grade and young adult novels have been translated into multiple languages and have appeared on best of the year lists from Time magazine, the Wall Street Journal , New York Public Library, YALSA, Bank Street College of Education, Chicago Public Library, and School Library Journal. His latest novel, Spontaneous , is in development as a film. He lives in Vermont with his wife and two daughters. Chapter One Late Keisha James was late for the bus. How late? One minute late, which was a big, big deal. Not that she missed the bus. Oh no, she would never do that. But she usually arrived at the bus stop at 7:05 a.m. Today she arrived at 7:06 a.m. And even though the bus wouldn’t pull up until 7:08 a.m., this was clearly disastrous. Why? Because it meant she was sixth in line. If she had arrived one minute earlier, she would’ve been third in line, which is clearly better. You see, Keisha’s bus stop was the last one on the route to Hopewell Elementary. By the time the bus pulled up, seats were always hard to come by. If she was at least third in line, she’d get a decent seat, somewhere in the middle, maybe next to Devon Garcia or Kendall Ali. But sixth in line? It meant sitting in—­avert your eyes if you’re the sensitive type—­a hump seat! Oh, the dreaded hump seats, the most vile and wretched of all seats on the bus. Located directly above the back wheels, the hump seats were impossibly uncomfortable because anyone who sat in them couldn’t fully extend their legs or put their backpack on the bus floor. So they had to sit with their backpacks in their laps, pushed against their chests by their bent knees. In other words, sixth in line was bad. Very bad. And today it was even worse. Today it meant sitting in the hump seat next to Hunter Barnes. No one at Hopewell Elementary wanted to sit in any seat next to Hunter Barnes. Sadly for Keisha, it was the only option. No students were sick. The bus was as full as it could be. So she reluctantly accepted her fate, trudging to the back and asking Hunter, “May I please sit here?” Hunter’s backpack was in the way, and he grumbled under his breath as he moved it to his lap. “Whatever.” This was Hunter being as polite as he could possibly be. Because there’s no other way to put it: Hunter Barnes was a bully. Not the kind of bully who would beat kids up. Worse. The kind who would figure out how to make their lives miserable with nothing but words. For instance, a kid named Carson Cooper once wore a red shirt to school, and Hunter told him, “People who wear red shirts smell like wet socks filled with dog food and boiled cauliflower. But people who wear blue shirts smell like chocolate chip cookies.” Hunter was, of course, wearing a blue shirt when he said this. So the next day, Carson was sure to use extra soap in the shower. And he put on his best blue shirt and stood for an hour next to an oven that was baking chocolate chip cookies. Then he set off to school confident in his shirt choice and smell. But then Hunter, of course, showed up to school wearing a red shirt. “Eww, why are you wearing a blue shirt?” he asked Carson. “Everyone knows people in blue shirts smell like dirty diapers filled with tuna fish sandwiches.” Hunter did this sort of thing to almost every kid at Hopewell Elementary. Except, that is, to Keisha. Because Keisha was focused. Keisha was fierce. Keisha did not suffer fools. Which means she didn’t tolerate any sort of nonsense, especially from kids like Hunter. That morning on the bus, she was ready. If he said anything to insult or tease her, she was armed with a comeback that would absolutely destroy him. Obviously, she wasn’t going to use that comeback un