Andy was lying on stomach on her bed, writing. After her conversation with Anna, she decided that maybe she wanted to be a English major, or maybe Creative Writing major...did they have those? She didn't know. She hadn't looked into it. She was wearing her headphones, blasting AC/DC and actually doing her homework. The math, she could probably get some genius sophomore or junior to help her with an hour before class started. The physics, she didn't particularly care about at the moment. But the English wasn't so bad, and she was writing a poem. Because she wasn't stressed or bored, she wasn't even thinking about doing anything illegal at the moment.
forty-thousand miles from reality
hidden under shadows, protected by the dark
fifteen-hundred seconds from her reverie
concealed in a promise and forgotten in the park
That was all she'd written so far, and her messy scrawl looked out of place on the clean notebook paper. Whatever. This was better than hanging out with the losers down the hall, most of whom she couldn't stand.
She didn't notice when someone pushed the door, which had already been half-open, completely wide-open, and entered the room. She was not used to having visitors; unless someone showed up later in the year, she had a room to herself. The walls were covered with her posters, and her things were all over the place. Besides, the music was still blaring in her ears, making her deaf to the outside world.