Trespassing

"Come on," Nick hissed, pulling me by the wrist towards the H building.

It was a Saturday night, at the bottom of the list of places where normal people want to be on weekends: school.  Nick was clearly not a normal person.

I wasn't entirely sure why we were here, although I figured whatever it was probably wasn't legal and probably had something to do with getting on the roof of the H building.  I was beginning to think that Nick was a bit obsessed.

He had come by my house after dinner (I have no idea how he got my address) and had begged me to accompany him with all the desperation of a man proposing marriage.  I had eventually given in, telling my parents that I would be back by eleven (they had proceeded to exchange looks that clearly said, when translated, "Ooh, Chrissy's got a boyfriend," but they hadn't protested), and here I was, sneaking up the steps to the H building when I could be safe at home, watching my favorite TV show. 

The H building was a brick and concrete behemoth with external stairways and no hallways.  To go from one classroom to another, you had to go outside, which would be all well and good if you were living in the tropics, but this was Oregon.  Seriously, the architect must have been out of his mind.  There's no better way to ruin your day than to walk out of your first period classroom into a fully fledged winter gale.  No better way aside from going to school in the first place, that is.  

We sprinted to the other end of the building, to the other set of stairs.  There we came upon the door.  It was locked, but Nick produced a slightly warped bobby pin and began to jiggle it in the bolt.

"Have you ever picked a lock before?" I asked.

"No, but it can't be too hard, can it?"

"You've watched too many movies, Nick."

The lock clicked.  "See?  Easy."

He pushed the door open, and we stepped into the darkness.

The End

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