The Door

The hands of the clock moved at a snail's pace in fifth period history the Friday before Christmas break. I rested my head on my elbow, eyelids heavy, and tried to focus on what my teacher was saying. My efforts to stay awake were bound to fail, as Mrs. McCallister droned on about the American Revolution. Desperate to escape, I decided to pretend like I was sick. I clutched my stomach and slowly walked to my teacher's desk. "Mrs. McCallister," I said, "I don't feel so good. May I please go to the bathroom?" She rolled her beady eyes, and stared me down, like a lion observing its prey. "Sure, but be quick." She handed me a hall pass, and I hobbled to the door, determined to stay in character. Once out, I rushed to the bathroom, freedom in sight. I could already feel the covers of my bed being pulled over me, as my mother took my temperature. When I got to the door, I noticed a sign that said "Out of order. Do not enter." Even still, I opened the door, expecting to see the regular high school bathroom. Instead, my eyes were filled with visions of rolling purple hills and trees with pink fluff. I took a step further and could see that the sky was a vivid orangish yellow and the sun was blue. Astonished, I thought to myself, was I dreaming or was I really sick.