High Life | ✔️

26

I OPENED MY eyes.

My legs were bound and my head ached. There was a dark moment of disorientation before the bad-dream fog abruptly lifted and I woke up all the way and rolled to smack the shrilling alarm. I was exactly where I fell asleep last night: on the bed, which was empty.

The duvet was wrapped around my legs. I disentangled myself and kicked the duvet away. I had a headache. It was a cold morning. I felt like dying.

I could hear voices outside my door, where the other girls seemed to be gathering. I buried my head beneath the pillow, willing myself ten-minutes more sleep and hangover recovery time. The wisp of a thought was drifting somewhere at the bottom of my mind, refusing to rise to the level of consciousness. Something I'd forgotten.

This was when a truly incredible snore resounded from someone sleeping on the floor.

I rolled out of bed so fast that I lost my balance and landed right on top of him, my full weight thumping against his impressive, bare chest. Marc wheezed, blue eyes popping open.

"What the fuck are you doing on the floor?" I hissed out as I climbed off him.

"I had to use the bathroom and I didn't want to wake you by climbing back into bed," he said.

"Your breath smells like an alcoholic's ass."

Marc's eyes went from half shut to enormous as he put a hand before his mouth to smell his own breath. He scrunched up his features in respond to the stimuli. My lips turned upwards as I climbed off him.

The ruckus beyond my door was suddenly, horribly silent. I stilled as someone knocked on the door. Short, sharp knocks.

"Andrea Schaeffler?" Called a voice. "Please open the door."

My eyes met Marc's, both of us visibly tensed.

Sharper, more persistent knocks followed. "Andrea, its Principal Walters here with Mrs. Dawson, would you kindly open up?"

Principal and the head disciplinary teacher outside my room? Well fuck. The CCTVs must be functional after all.

My eyes began racking the space of my room for a nook where I may store Marc. My eyes landed on the window and they paused there, genuinely. Marc seemed to be reading my mind.

"No I'm not jumping." He said with finality.

The doorknob rattled. "Andrea, we do have keys to the rooms. But I would prefer if you opened up on your own accord."

I entertained the horrible vision of both adults entering my room. Not only would they find a boy who didn't belong to this school, they'd also find evidence of alcohol possession - both of which were severe crimes. I began panicking. I would get expelled.

The sound of jingling keys set my vocal chords in motion.

"Give me a second," I shouted to the adults beyond my door.

There was no reply. I had a few raging heartbeats to conceal the wine bottle and the hunk of a male in my living quarters. I only managed to fling the wine bottle out of my window before a click sounded, followed by the opening of my now unlocked door. I turned in time to see Marc roll under my bed. Definitely not a permanent solution, but it could work.

Principal Walters was already in her pantsuit and fancy chignon at 7 in the morning, with Mrs. Dawson, in tow. An elderly male, the hostel custodian I assume, was tucking his ring of room keys away. Beyond the three adults, a congregation of females in sleepwear seemed to have gathered to see what the commotion was.