❝we're stronger in the places we've been broken❞
ｅｒｎｅｓｔ ｈｅｍｉｎｇｗａｙ
___
ＭＹ fingers brush over the floor buttons on the elevator. After the abrupt end to the session with Horowitz I wasn't quite sure what to do next.
A small, strange part of me nags me to put the book that I held in my left hand to use. I should go up to my room and start writing in it; ergo that meant pressing the button for the third floor and going to the left wing which was dedicated to the second year girls.
On the other hand...
My fingers hover up to the topmost button. It was different from the rest, a gold rather than silvery colour with a label engraved underneath. Recreational Room.
I press it; and within a minute, the door was opening again.
Turns out the Rec Room is actually more of a Rec floor.
With a gaping mouth, I explore the floor. It seemed to have everything you'd ever need.
A pool table that converted into a foosball table if you flicked it around, a mini two-lane bowling arena, a section made entirely of beanbags, cushions and an assortment of pillows, a wall filled with a collection of books from all genres, and even a home cinema that sat roughly twenty people. And that was just all I could see. Somewhere in the distance came the indistinct dinging of a pinball machine leading me to assume there might also be some sort of arcade around here.
It had everything a teenager could ever dream of; which led to the question...
Where was everyone else?
"Hello? Is anyone here?" My voice vibrates with a haunting echo through the air. It seemed the entire floor was truly empty.
"Mm-huh...?"
Startled, I twist my head around in the direction where I'd heard the noise. It was a low, confused groan - like the sound of someone waking up. But looking at the beanbags now, they still seemed to be empty.
That is, until the figure of a shaggy haired teenage boy slowly faded into view in the indent of one of the beanbags, looking as if he had been sat there the entire time. Camouflage? I muse.
Right then, the boy does a wide exaggerated stretch, only acknowledging my presence with a single, uncaring nod.
"Sorry if I scared you. Gamma was supposed to help me contain it but still haven't figured out how to do it when I'm asleep," he explains offhandedly. "That was a really comfy beanbag... You don't happen to know the time, do you?"
"Erm," I blink, mentally trying to adjust to his appearance, "it was just after six when I last checked."
"Six?" His eyes widen.
"Yeah? Is anything wrong?" My question is met with a series of lowly mumbled swearwords. "I was just wondering where everyone-"
"The teams!"
The boy scrambles out of his handmade beanbag fortress and brushes past me, disappearing out the room.
YOU ARE READING
Freaks
AdventureEMERSON SPARKE'S RULES ON HOW TO BE NORMAL: 1. Avoid having a secret alter ego to cover up the fact that everyone you used to know thinks you're dead 2. Don't accidentally blow up half your high school - being deemed a threat to society is all fun...
