Copyright 2011 Lindsay Covington
Chapter Two
Ka-clunk. Ka-clunk. Ka-clunk. My worn black ankle boots echoed down the dreary hallway as I counted the doors I passed.
97...98...99...
The Stafford School for At Risk Teens had two girls dorms and two guys dorms. My dorm was in Rosemary Hall, directly across the sidewalk from the other girl’s dorm, Judith Hall. Not very creative with the names if you ask me.
101...102...103...
I rounded a sharp corner and found myself face to face with steep, dark wood stairs. The space they were as wide as the narrow hallway, which was about three and one half feet wide. I glanced at the numbers scrawled on my hand in black sharpie and started up the stairs.
Creak...creak...creak...creak...
The light above the stairwell flickered, casting haunting shadows down the stairs and into the hall. I shrugged and continued my ascent to the second floor.
The stairs ended at another faded beige wall and I turned left, in the direction of more wooden doors and continued my trek through the building.
200...201...202...
An oil painting of a quaint little cottage in a meadow caught my notice, hmpf, slowly sucking the imagination and creativity out of today’s youth with manufactured scenes such as this, I thought to myself, not too pleased with the pathetic attempt to brighten up the hallway. In my opinion, the decorators would have been better off just leaving the wall bare. I rolled my eyes at the painting one last time and resumed my search for my dorm room.
205...206...207...
I stopped in front of room 208 and rechecked the numbers on my palm, nodding in confirmation that I was in the right place. I dug into my jeans pocket and grasped at a cool metal object in the folds of fabric and drew it out. Adjusting the key in my grip, I turned it so the end with the teeth pointed towards the lock in the round doorknob and pushed it into the keyhole.
I twisted it to the right and the stubborn lock slowly gave way under the pressure put upon it by my hand.
Click.
I turned the key back and pulled it out, pocketing it, before I pushed open the door, reluctant to meet my roommate.
The first thing to assault my senses was the bright pale pink of the room, closely followed by the the smell of roses. I blinked, a tad overwhelmed by the cheery, girlishness of the room.
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