The storage room felt smaller now, though the air between Andrea and me had grown lighter since our earlier exchange.
The metallic scent of dust lingered in the corners, the dim fluorescent bulb flickering overhead.
The entire ambiance of the storage room felt like we had transported ourselves to some different world entirely which was far from perfect and clustered with sports gear on various shelves.
Andrea sat cross-legged on the cold floor, her hands fiddling with the fraying hem of her hoodie. I leaned back against a stack of boxes, watching her as she hesitated before speaking again.
“So,” Andrea began, her voice tentative, “what’s the deal with this school? I mean, you’ve been here longer than me. Any survival tips?”
I chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair out of my face.
