It was pitch black in her room, save for what little was illuminated by the light from the doorway. Once she’d made sure her luggage was secure beside her, Sam shut the door and felt blindly against the wall for the light switch. Her long ivory fingers soon felt the nipple, and she flipped it to the ‘ON’ position, the room suddenly coming to life in front of her.
“Holy shit...” Sam said again, “This place is bigger than my house…”
A bit of an overstatement, but Sam wasn’t really that far off. The Buttercombe housing suites were roomier than the probably needed to be, but they were just as swanky. Sam was only looking at the kitchen/living room area, and she could already tell that she was going to enjoy her stay at Buttercombe Academy if only for the fact that they had a TV that was wider than her dinner table at home. A big cushy loveseat, a fridge a Sam and a half tall, and that ridiculous entertainment center was more than enough to have Sam convinced that Buttercombe Academy couldn’t be that bad after all…
The pugilistic punk let out a sharp whistle as she skated over the minor details of the room. Wall to wall carpeting, a chandelier lighting fixture, kickass furniture… the whole place even smelled clean. Like she was the first person to set foot in it, and that it existed just for her.
“Damn…” she muttered, leaving her luggage behind and stepping towards the center, “Almost don’t wanna unpack…”
There were two doors on either side of her, neither of which quite matched the elegance provided by the “front” door of her dorm. They weren’t cheap, but somehow seemed less impressive. Just white with gold doorknobs. Sam walked over to one of them and gave it a good twist and push, stepping into yet another dark and empty room. She felt around for the lightswitch when—
“Holy shit!” Sam said again, her eyes widening with shock
She had walked into one of the bedrooms, and it had instantly redefined the meaning of the word in her mind. Sam’s idea of “bedroom” was the one she had back home. Small, white with cheap plaster and band posters thumbtacked to the walls, no headboard with a twin mattress and her shit flung all over the place. This… this was something else entirely.
There was a full-length mirror in front of her little closet, and a dresser drawer wider than she could hold her arms out. An armoire with clawed feet that sank into the plush carpeting. Flowery wallpaper and wood paneling. And the bed—oh God the bed—it was huge. Easily twice the size of Sam’s little twin mattress back home, and so tall that she would probably have had to jump onto it!
Without thinking, Sam rushed forward and collapsed onto the big fluffy mattress. She sunk into it like a cloud, falling face first into sweet sleepy heaven. She flipped over, remarkably still having enough room to lay all splayed out like that, and twisted and thrashed on what was to be her new bed. There was no way that this was real. This was how princesses must have lived; how royalty or aristocrats or heiresses should have slept. And yet here was Sam; the girl from the wrong side of the railroad tracks, spreading her commoner stink all over the bedsheets.
Sam lay there for a moment staring up at the sleek, not-gross-bumpy ceiling, with the most exuberant smile on her face. She shut her eyes and took in the unspoiled smell of the room, her bony chest rising with her inhaling. Slowly, her head lulled to the side, and her eyes opened.
There, on the nightstand, was a wicker basket. It was wrapped in cellophane, had a big yellow ribbon around it, and it was full of all kinds of shit.
“Ho. Lee. Shit.” Sam’s smile turned more devious as she wriggled her way to the edge of the bed, pawing for the basket…
***
“urp.”
Sam was never going to leave this bed. She had decided it at some point between her fourth or fifth Mars Bar and the jar of M&M’s that had probably been portioned to last more than one hysterical candy binge. Sam was never going to leave this bed, and they were just going to have to haul all the teachers up to her bedroom, because Sam would swear to God that she was never going to ever ever leave her brand new bed.
Even now, covered in candy wrappers and cellophane, Sam’s new bed was easily the most comfortable thing she’d ever laid down on in her entire life. It was fluffy but firm, padded but lenient, and it didn’t even creak when she bounced up and down excitedly on top of it. Which, granted, had stopped sometime not long before her candy binge was over—the bouncing made her stomach hurt.
“Oogh…” Sam burbled as she held one piece of candy out in front of her, vision blurry as she tried to keep the chocolatey wad in sight, “This may have… urp… been a bad idea…”
Sam never really got a lot of sweets at home. She never really got a lot of anything at home. She and her Mom once went more than a month without so much as going to the grocery store. On those rare occasions then, when Sam did get to indulge a little, Sam tended to indulge a lot. For example: in one short hour, she’d more or less polished off a welcome basket sized for her bedside table.
Granted there was some other shit in there too—not just food.
A few flyers on Buttercombe Academy and a booklet on its procedures, some soaps and shampoos, and a few modest school supplies. Sam had more or less separated what was edible from what was not, and further subcategorized the Not-Food into simple like with like while snacking away on what was edible. Sam didn’t really pay much mind to any of that. How could she? She was halfway through her splurge before she realized that there was anything important in that basket, which was way too stuffed to care.
“Ugh… can’t do it…” Sam puffed as she arched her back against her mattress, “Bad idea, Sammie… bad idea…”
Sam collapsed onto the bed, letting out short little puffs of air as she strained against her food baby belly. The last little bite of her 3 Musketeers bar lay between her fingers, kept frosty by the AC as it cooled Sam’s food-addled form against the bedsheets.
As she lay there, letting out pathetic little puffs of air, Sam was roused from her quasi-slumber by a sudden noise outside her bedroom door. It was certainly loud enough to get Sam’s attention, causing the slender snacker to curl up into a sitting position (an action that she would regret not even half-way into her sit-up) in an instinctive panic. Like a deer caught in headlights, Sam found herself unable to move…
"Oh shit..." Sam whispered...   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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