The Glowing Door This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.


   Standing tiredly atthe door of the classroom, I will myself to enter. The cool handle turns easily,but it takes some effort to pull open the weighty door - the thought of 25curious faces turning as I walk in, late as usual, gives me a queasy feeling. Isuck in a last deep breath and brace myself for the exasperated look Ms.Andrews will give me.

But the sea of curious faces isn't there, and Ms.Andrews isn't standing at the front of the room. The classroom is empty. Only onelight is on, humming softly through the silence. The door shuts behind me with asatisfying click. I take several quick steps backward through the door again,check the classroom number. Room 235, Spanish - that's right. The same hurriedclasswork, unchanged posters, and outdated sports schedules adorn thewall.

Okay, there's an explanation, I tell myself nervously. Assembly?Fire drill? School cancelled? No, surely I would have seen the chaotic swarms ofstudents if it were a fire drill, or heard the familiar roar of a schoolassembly. And school being cancelled isn't the kind of thing I'd easily overlook.I get the brilliant idea to check my planner for any reminder I might havescribbled earlier in the week. There it is, in bubbly blue ink: Thursday -Library. Sigh.

As I retrace my steps through the dingy hall, I wonder whatkind of project my teacher managed to think up that would require use of thelibrary for Spanish class. I step inside the library and the familiar smell ofworn and weathered books greets me. Overstocked, underused shelves lined withnovels and biographies make the spacious room its own hushed, landlocked islandin the bustling school.

At the other end of the room, with her back tome, Ms. Andrews is explaining something to the class. I recognize a few kids, butno one sees me. The librarian sits stiffly at her immaculate desk, wearingbifocals and trying to appear authoritative. I glance at the door, and the lightfrom the outside hall gives it a glowing halo look. I glance at the fidgetingclass, watch them rock back in their chairs, whispering to each other. Someoneyawns. Glowing door. Yawning class. Glowing door ... I take a few steps backtoward it. Yawning class. Glowing door ... I grab the handle, turn it and stepthrough the portal to the bright light outside and the temporary freedom itpromises.




This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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