~Chapter 1~
I lie in my bed, shivering underneath the thin, icy covers. The only noise in the room is the sound of my roommate Taylor breathing softly in her bed. The only light came from my dying flashlight, and the full moon outside of my window.
Slowly I sat up in my bed and listened for footsteps patrolling the hall. There were none. I got out of bed and walked to my dresser to get some fresh batteries and a hair tie.
I did a quick braid down my back and tip-toed toward the door. My fingers were touching the cold, dented door knob when I heard my name being whispered.
"Amy, where are you going?"
I turned around and saw little Taylor sitting up in her bed. Her blond hair was frizzy and sticking out in every direction.
"Nowhere", I said, "go back to sleep."
"I never was asleep," she said, " it's too cold."
I looked into her deep blue eyes. Poor thing, she's only 7 why don't they turn on the heater?
Then I remembered Ms. Olga's words, " We provide you greedy children with blankets and a bed. Do you expect us to turn on the heater and put more money on our electric bill as well?" Yes I did. The beds were falling apart and uncomfortable, and the blankets were thin and scratchy.
She could have gotten better quality at the dollar store. I walked over to my bed and pulled the sheets off, "Here," I said, "you can have mine."
She looked up at me and smiled, "Thank you", she said. I tucked her in and kissed her forehead. "Hey Amy?" I turned around. "Are you going to look for your files?"
My eyes opened wide. How did she know I was looking for my files? I hadn't told anyone! "Yeah," I responded, "how did you know?"
She blushed deeply.
"I read your diary."
"Taylor-" I started
"I know I shouldn't have, but I just got really curious. I saw you writing in it one night, then I watched you hide it under your pillow. I'm really sorry Amy." She said.
I couldn't stay mad at her. She really did look sorry and upset.
"It's okay."
"Thank you," she sighed in relief, "while your there, could you maybe look for mine too?."
"I'll do my best Taylor," I said.
"Thanks Amy, I appreciate it,"
"You're welcome, now go to sleep."
"Okay, good luck." She smiled again.
When I made it back to the door I stopped and turned around. She was already asleep.
As I tip-toed slowly down the hall the floor creaked, almosts as if it were screaming at me telling me to go back to bed. I couldn't though, I had gotten too far to quit.
I reached a large black
door at the end of the hall and hesitated for a moment.
Then I realized that I was losing valuable time and carefully opened the door.
A rush of heat almost knocked me off of my feet. So, she couldn't spend money on young children, but she could spend money on herself and probably all of her staff. Great.
The room smelled like a combination of cigarettes and fish sticks, which was also what was scattered across the floor.
Ms. Olga was laying in her king sized bed, her snores like a truck engine starting up. I didn't dare point the flashlight in her direction.
I began my search for my files. The sheets of paper that would tell me everything that I wanted to know.
They would tell me about my parents, if I had any relatives, everything that Ms. Olga was supposed to tell me, but didn't, would be there.
If only I knew where they were.
After what seemed like an eternity I found a closet full of papers. I walked in, shut the door behind me, and flipped the light switch.
As light poured into the room I couldn't believe my eyes. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of plastic storage boxes full of papers. Each one of them had a sticky note with a name on it on the lid.
I looked around the cramped little room in amazement. There were so many secrets, just waiting to be discovered and enjoyed.
But I didn't have time for that.
I searched for my files. First I found Taylor's, which I folded neatly then stuffed into my coat pocket, then I found mine at the top shelf. Darn.
The thing is, I'm small for my age.
I began scanning the room for something to stand on. There was a trash can in the corner that looked sturdy.
I grabbed it and turned it upside-down so I could stand on it and use it as a step stool. My hands were only a few inches away from grabbing my files when I heard my name.
This time, it wasn't a cute 7 year old saying it.
"AMY. WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING IN MY CLOSET IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT?"
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