Veronica was sitting on a stone chair on the small balcony, sneaker incased feet propped up on the railing. She hated the inside of the towers, the way everything was made of stone. It made her feel as if she was in a tomb, and it echoed so much it was easy to get disoriented. But the balcony made it worth every step; it was the most secluded place on campus; the perfect place to sit and think.
It was storming, rain and sleet pouring down and pinging loudly against the stone. Veronica had started to go in, but she guessed there was an outcropping of some sort above her, because no rain was falling on the balcony itself. She shivered, fumbling with the zipper in her jacket for a few minutes before she was able to zip it up. Her parents had bought her plenty of Velcro-fastened shirts, although she'd told them time and time again she'd never wear them, and she still hadn't put one on.
It was her birthday. Nineteen. She'd been at the school nine months now, but she didn't think anyone else knew. Her parents must have forgotten, because they hadn't called the entire day. She felt her watch, an eyebrow arching at the time. It was nearly eight, which meant she'd been wandering around school grounds for two hours. She'd resolved to go to all her classes today, but she'd gotten into a fight with her English teacher about something or other and he'd ended up getting flustered and ordering her out. She knew it was just because he knew she was right, and she had honestly meant to go to her next class, but the next thing she knew she was climbing up the steps to the tower.
She could leave, probably. She was a legal adult; she could go back to college, get a fellowship somewhere or other. She could, if she really wanted.
If she had fifty or sixty thousand to pay for all of it, that is. If she could even get in again, a nineteen year old blind girl with a suspiciously large intellect.
She rubbed her eyes with her index fingers, opening and closing her eyelids to no avail. Her parents thought this school would cure her of everything wrong with her, except for the one thing that actually was. She shuffled around in her bag, jamming on her John Lennon style sunglasses to obscure her eyes from sight. She held a hand out from under the outcropping, closing her hand around the tiny flakes of ice that pooled there. What was it they said? "And many more..." She half sang, flicking off the access water and burying her wet hand in her jacket pocket.
It was storming, rain and sleet pouring down and pinging loudly against the stone. Veronica had started to go in, but she guessed there was an outcropping of some sort above her, because no rain was falling on the balcony itself. She shivered, fumbling with the zipper in her jacket for a few minutes before she was able to zip it up. Her parents had bought her plenty of Velcro-fastened shirts, although she'd told them time and time again she'd never wear them, and she still hadn't put one on.
It was her birthday. Nineteen. She'd been at the school nine months now, but she didn't think anyone else knew. Her parents must have forgotten, because they hadn't called the entire day. She felt her watch, an eyebrow arching at the time. It was nearly eight, which meant she'd been wandering around school grounds for two hours. She'd resolved to go to all her classes today, but she'd gotten into a fight with her English teacher about something or other and he'd ended up getting flustered and ordering her out. She knew it was just because he knew she was right, and she had honestly meant to go to her next class, but the next thing she knew she was climbing up the steps to the tower.
She could leave, probably. She was a legal adult; she could go back to college, get a fellowship somewhere or other. She could, if she really wanted.
If she had fifty or sixty thousand to pay for all of it, that is. If she could even get in again, a nineteen year old blind girl with a suspiciously large intellect.
She rubbed her eyes with her index fingers, opening and closing her eyelids to no avail. Her parents thought this school would cure her of everything wrong with her, except for the one thing that actually was. She shuffled around in her bag, jamming on her John Lennon style sunglasses to obscure her eyes from sight. She held a hand out from under the outcropping, closing her hand around the tiny flakes of ice that pooled there. What was it they said? "And many more..." She half sang, flicking off the access water and burying her wet hand in her jacket pocket.