It was a chilled night. The light rain from outside pattered against the windows and the wind blew the tree branches all about, making it easy to hear the rustling. It was very silent, the only sound being heard was the rapid typing of my fingers across my laptop.
It was nice, having the lounge all nice and silent to myself like this. There was no TV turned up high, various voices talking and laughing, or music blasting. Just peace. And that was how I liked it. Especially when I had an assignment to do.
The lounge was dark, considering I hadn't turned the light on when I came in because I obviously didn't want anyone to know I was in here. This place was off limits when it's past 11 p.m. It was a very nice place to sit back and relax for the students. It was a really spacious room, big enough for almost 100 students. And if it was too crowded inside, the staff would tell some people to leave. There weren't many people at this school, but it could still get packed sometimes. There were couches, TVs, vending machines, a snack bar, and a pool table. It was almost like a cafeteria. I mean, we have a cafeteria, but the lounge is way cooler. It was where mostly everyone came during class breaks, lunches, or after school to meet up with friends, have a snack, or just chill and watch TV.
It was basically the middle of the night and I was staying up late to finish my research paper on global warning for class that was due the next morning. I would've finished yesterday, but I was already knee-deep in extra credit the whole day to raise my grades up.
It was nearing the end of the first semester and I was so close to all straight A+'s. I guess you could call me an overachiever--I'm not really, but I try--and it's mostly my family's fault. Their main priority in life is to have a successful education. My whole family are a bunch of nerds who make it their mission to excel above everyone else. But I can gladly say that I'm not at all like that. Of course, I keep up my good grades and work hard--anything to keep my parents happy--but all I really want is to just graduate and get into a nice college. It doesn't have to be Harvard or some fancy university like that. I just want to get a degree and go on to study psychiatry is all.
I remember when my mother first brought up the idea of making me attend a university-preparatory school for when I started high school. I laughed at first, but then I realised that she was actually serious and I got so angry. That woman would go to extremes to make sure that I'm more than ready for college. I was already in AP and gifted and Honours classes, but that wasn't enough apparently. I also told her I didn't want to leave my current school and friends, but she wouldn't listen and of course my father backed her up on it. It's all about what they want. So here I am six months later, in a boarding school. I was still angry with them though and we weren't on speaking terms much, but I am required to give a phone call once a week. I could hold one heck of a grudge.
I stifle a yawn with the back of my hand and I stop typing momentarily. My hands were starting to cramp and my eyes were growing tired.
Just a few more sentences, I told myself.
After a couple seconds, I felt my eyes droop and my head loll to the side. Then I jolted up in realisation that I was falling asleep. Boy, if someone found me here asleep the next morning, I'd be in deep trouble. I could've just done this in my room, but my roommate is more than a bit of a snorer, even if she won't admit it. I can hardly sleep in there, let alone type up a paper. I love Lydia, but not when she sleeps. So, leaning back on the couch I was sat on, taking long gulps of the plastic water bottle beside me and cracking my fingers, I began typing again.
When I finally finish the last sentence of my paper, I read over the paragraph continuously until there were no more errors to correct.
Global Warming, by: Maria Williams
