I feel like a zombie when I wake up. My eyes hurt and my head aches. I would love to try and sleep in, but it's Thursday. I have to get up and go to my home school.

Continuing to be like the walking dead, I go through the morning routine: get up, get dressed, eat food, and then meet Norra in the second study so I can burry my pain in homework.

Personally, I think textbooks are a health hazard, because if you have to stare into one for more than two hours, your brain starts to tell you it's going to explode. Although my hate is over-powering, I suck up my selfishness and turn the crystal knob so I can enter the study.

Norra is already seated, trying to figure out a lesson plan. Her perfect fingers frantically flip pages and she expresses complete focus. Post-Its are stuck all over the desk, her neat writing scrawled across them.

I just sit down and stay silent while she gets frusterated.

She's always like this when it comes to academics. The kids she taught were probably happy with her for giving them such a long time to talk before they actually started working. I could be full of felicity myself, but there isn't much to tdo while waiting, so I examine the Wall and the stressed out staff members as they try to clean the grounds.

After what seems like at least a few years, I hear Norra stop flipping and sigh. When I look at her, she seems just as exhausted as I am.

"I have way too many things to think about. Schoolwork isn't at the top of my list," she says.

"Same here," is what comes out of my mouth. I shrug. "What are we going to do then?"

The wheels turn in her head as she ponders my question. All she tells me is,

"Get your coat on."

I don't object and we both get up. I'm assuming that we're going outside to assess the damage and rebuild, and I know this is true when she reports what she heard on the new this morning.

"There was a tornado warning for our area last night. I stayed up and watched the news until the whole thing passed, and I heard you scream. It missed us by about twelve miles, thank goodness, but 14 people were killed."

Once again, I'm reminded of how fortunate I am, but that doesn't change my amount of selfishness. I do feel sorry for everyone who got hit by the storm and any other occuring disaster, but I have things to think about myself.

When we get into the yard, it looks like someone put all of us into a snowglobe and shook it.

I see a lawn mower in a tree.

Norra quickly loses herself in yard work, and the other staff members glare at me when they notice that I'm not doing anything. I ignore their sneers as I head to the part of the Wall where I found the door.

Surpisingly, the trees are untouched, but the bushes are stripped bare. I shove through them when no one is watching.

The door is slightly ajar. I'm tempted enough to open it.

I find another little section of property that I never knew was there. There's nothing in it except ivy that drapes the Wall, and another door, clearly much more weathered.

As if time came to a standstill, my feet slowly make me approach the weathered door in curiousity. A broken lock lies in the grass.

With all of my strength, I jerk back the handle and fall over. I lay in pain for a moment, and then sit up.

My eyes widen as I stare into the bruised face of a boy.