it.
The ceiling was probably ten feet high, so what’s that, two feet of glass not blotted out by snow? The snow looked black,except near the top, where a little light seeped down to turn it a soft gray. Imagine that: black snow. I knew it wasn’t, that it was something about the dim, uneven light in the hallway.
I sat up and looked at it for a while. It was like how you can’t see out the window into the darkness at night, but anyone out there can see in, if that makes any sense. Anyway, whatever, it was an optical effect: eight feet of black snow topped by a two-foot band of morning light so dim that my eyes didn’t even need to adjust to it. It was bizarre and kind of overwhelming. I felt like I was being buried alive.
I could only see two things in the space above the snow. The first was the dim morning light. I’ve already told you about that. The second was the snow, still falling.
It didn’t look like it was falling as hard as yesterday, so maybe it was tapering off. I was in no mood to get my hopes up, though. I’d gone to sleep sure this would all be over when I woke up, but it had obviously been going gangbusters during the night. I looked at the gap, watched the snow come down, and tried to calculate how long it would be until it was all the way up to the top, until no light would get in. I felt my chest tighten and looked away.
I sat up straighter and got my bearings. It was colder now. I exhaled in a low, steady stream, but I couldn’t see my breath, so it wasn’t that cold. I’d been sleeping for hours in my jacket, hat, and gloves, so parts of me were actually pretty warm. My hands were sweating; I’d never slept with gloves on before. I took them off now and felt the cool air curl into my wet palms. It felt good and distracted me from the tightness in my back and the bruisedfeeling in my left hip. I’d been sleeping on my side on the floor and now I shifted my weight to figure out what hurt and what didn’t.
I looked around, rubbing the left side of my face to try to get some of the feeling back. The others looked like they were still sleeping. They were curled up or sprawled out on either side of me. The light was still too dim to see colors well, but I could see their shapes. Jason was on his side, drooling into his hand. Pete was wearing his ridiculous hat and had a little smile on his face, dreaming of someplace other than here. Les was farther down, spread-eagled on his back like he was making a snow angel. His chest was rising and falling, rising and falling. We were lucky: no heavy snorers.
I looked over to my left, where the girls were. They were curled up, facing each other like bookends. My eyes swept over Julie and fell on Krista. She was wearing her sweatshirt and jacket but had taken off her hat and placed it under her head so that it was in between the side of her face and the cold tile floor. Her mouth was open just a little, and I could see her nostrils flare in and out as she breathed. She was curled forward with her knees pulled halfway up so that the line of her back and legs formed the shape of an S. I looked at the line of her
S
and then I looked at the line of her, well, anyway, that’s when I realized Elijah was watching me.
He was watching me watch her. I don’t know if I sensed him looking, the way they say you can feel it if someone’s staring at you, or if I just did the math and realized I hadn’t seen him yet. He was sitting up against the far wall, where the hallway L-eddown toward the double doors. He didn’t bother to look down when I looked up at him. Why should he? He’d caught me looking, not the other way around.
We sat there looking at each other. It wasn’t a staredown, exactly, at least it didn’t feel like one. Elijah had this thousand-yard stare thing. He might be looking at you, he might be looking through you. It was tough to tell. Neither of us spoke, and then he raised his right hand to his head and made a plucking motion, as if he was
The ceiling was probably ten feet high, so what’s that, two feet of glass not blotted out by snow? The snow looked black,except near the top, where a little light seeped down to turn it a soft gray. Imagine that: black snow. I knew it wasn’t, that it was something about the dim, uneven light in the hallway.
I sat up and looked at it for a while. It was like how you can’t see out the window into the darkness at night, but anyone out there can see in, if that makes any sense. Anyway, whatever, it was an optical effect: eight feet of black snow topped by a two-foot band of morning light so dim that my eyes didn’t even need to adjust to it. It was bizarre and kind of overwhelming. I felt like I was being buried alive.
I could only see two things in the space above the snow. The first was the dim morning light. I’ve already told you about that. The second was the snow, still falling.
It didn’t look like it was falling as hard as yesterday, so maybe it was tapering off. I was in no mood to get my hopes up, though. I’d gone to sleep sure this would all be over when I woke up, but it had obviously been going gangbusters during the night. I looked at the gap, watched the snow come down, and tried to calculate how long it would be until it was all the way up to the top, until no light would get in. I felt my chest tighten and looked away.
I sat up straighter and got my bearings. It was colder now. I exhaled in a low, steady stream, but I couldn’t see my breath, so it wasn’t that cold. I’d been sleeping for hours in my jacket, hat, and gloves, so parts of me were actually pretty warm. My hands were sweating; I’d never slept with gloves on before. I took them off now and felt the cool air curl into my wet palms. It felt good and distracted me from the tightness in my back and the bruisedfeeling in my left hip. I’d been sleeping on my side on the floor and now I shifted my weight to figure out what hurt and what didn’t.
I looked around, rubbing the left side of my face to try to get some of the feeling back. The others looked like they were still sleeping. They were curled up or sprawled out on either side of me. The light was still too dim to see colors well, but I could see their shapes. Jason was on his side, drooling into his hand. Pete was wearing his ridiculous hat and had a little smile on his face, dreaming of someplace other than here. Les was farther down, spread-eagled on his back like he was making a snow angel. His chest was rising and falling, rising and falling. We were lucky: no heavy snorers.
I looked over to my left, where the girls were. They were curled up, facing each other like bookends. My eyes swept over Julie and fell on Krista. She was wearing her sweatshirt and jacket but had taken off her hat and placed it under her head so that it was in between the side of her face and the cold tile floor. Her mouth was open just a little, and I could see her nostrils flare in and out as she breathed. She was curled forward with her knees pulled halfway up so that the line of her back and legs formed the shape of an S. I looked at the line of her
S
and then I looked at the line of her, well, anyway, that’s when I realized Elijah was watching me.
He was watching me watch her. I don’t know if I sensed him looking, the way they say you can feel it if someone’s staring at you, or if I just did the math and realized I hadn’t seen him yet. He was sitting up against the far wall, where the hallway L-eddown toward the double doors. He didn’t bother to look down when I looked up at him. Why should he? He’d caught me looking, not the other way around.
We sat there looking at each other. It wasn’t a staredown, exactly, at least it didn’t feel like one. Elijah had this thousand-yard stare thing. He might be looking at you, he might be looking through you. It was tough to tell. Neither of us spoke, and then he raised his right hand to his head and made a plucking motion, as if he was
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