:Edge-3

As we walked down the hall I was chatsied, "You should have shaken her hand." Ms.Handerson growled, frowning disappointedly. I shrugged. "Im not an ass kisser." I smiled at her checking out my room number. "Top floor." I mumbled looking for a stairway. Ms.Handerson grasped my arm. "It would have been polite." I yanked my arms out of her grip. "Don’t touch me." I hissed glaring. Nobody, nobody was allowed to touch me. I stomped up the stairs dragging my bag. I reached the top floor both of us panting. I looked for number 436. I walked down the looking at the rows of lockers. They were painted burgundy and had vents in the top. There was a large window that faced the road and the sparse land. And at the end of the hall was 436. The door was oak and had a small window on it. I pushed the door open too see two bunks, four windows, four bedside tables and a tv. And couch pressed agaisnt the wall. A small fake tree rested in the corner by the first bunk. Six prying eyes surveyd me.

"So your Serenity MacGuff." One of them piped it was a plump brunette girl who wore jeans and a bright yellow t-shirt. She reminded me of the sun. She layed sprawled out on the hardwood floor and notebook infront of her.

"No. Its Morgan Freeman? Do you have any bones that need collecting?" I asked tightening my grip on my bag. "Only the one in my pants." I looked to the top bunk where a petite, blonde girl with green eyes sat with a book proped up on the end of the bunk.

The other girl laughed clutching there stomachs. Typical clique. I felt that stupid shoulder on my hand, I shrugged it off. "This is Serenity." Ms. Handerson said. She lead me over to one of the black metal bunks. "You can have top." The sun-girl said. "Maddie has bottom."

I heaved my bag up onto the bunk. The mattress was lumpy and white as I pulled myself with ease up onto it. "Call me Serenity your as good as dead." I growl. "Its Kaycee." I say. And they get it. "O-kay Kaycee." Says the blonde girl. She flips her hair and taps her book. I look closer at her. She’s nothing more than a stick. The white t-shirt she wears hugs her bones. And the red shorts that adorns her tan stick like legs are faded and worn. Ew. "Good luck Kaycee." Says Ms.Handerson. I nod. "I don’t need it." I mumble. I look around the room. From the sun to the stick. Then to my bag. I can’t belive im here. Stuck with these people. I wish I had a bottle of Cyanide. I hopped down from the lumpy mattress.

I had my bag resting at my feet. I stood in the hallway now twilring the combination of my locker. The lights were large and oval, they hung from the ceiling and let off a nice light. Not to harsh. Thank blog. I pulled on the lock. Nothing. Frustrated I swung and slammed my foot into my locker. It rattled ringing a hum through the empty corridor. I tried once more muttering swears under my breath. Finally when I yanked on the purple lock, it relased it self and the locker swung open. A poof old stale air wafted out of the locker. It was pretty wide. Enough to put my clothes in at the bottom and my hygiene stuff on one of the five shelfs. I shoved my t-shits into the middle row, my jeans at the bottom, along with my pajams. My hygiene stuff went on the top. I was going to keep my books and notebooks in my own room. I set up pictures of my bands in my locker. I was aving only a few of my very favorites for the room. I sighed looking at my locker. I sat my skate shoes in the middle next to my stash of money and asprin.

I cranked my iPod drowing out the voices of Jena and Winifred. Jena was the stick, Winifred was the sun. I was taping my bands up, I told them I was going to if they liked it or not. They told me "Mi Casa, Su Casa." I smiled maybe they were okay. Ripping the piece of masking tape, I held the poster of Purge one of my fave bands with my knee. After I got it up. I looked at it admiring my work. I had succsefully created a mural on my ceiling of my bands, Paramore, Purge, Avenged Sevenfold, NOFX, My Chemical Romance and Boys like Girls. That was my sky.

"Woah, you got artistic talent there chicky." I looked down at Winifred who was reading my notebook. I write. Normally I would be furious, but I let it slide. "Yeah whatever." "Is it finished?" I noticed a piece of the Paramore poster coming loose. I ripped more tape, "Is it purple?" I ask. "Yeah." My purple one was the story of a runaway chick who cliff dives and this kid from Greece saves her. "Yeah, you can read it." I offer slipping down. "Really? Thanks." She sinks deep into her pink beanbag chair.

I pull the black comforter that I was granted to have over the bed. Shoving the pillows into the black sham. I put my Skeleanimal on the bed and I stand back. How long will I be here?