Ezra White held a stick of marijuana between his rosy lips and lighted it with his lighter. He was all alone in the East wing boys' bathroom sitting on the counter, back flat against the mirror. Everybody knew nobody goes there anymore, to the fact that the East wing of the school is already closed. He heard there was a murder scene some fifty years way back, and headmasters and teachers back then in Terry Black were too credulous to restore the area; scared the spirit of the murdered ones may haunt those who dare step into the now sleepy and peaceful setting.

But that was just pathetic. Everybody thought it was a really dumb story. Ironically, only the likes of Ezra skulk around the dusty floors of the annex.

For a moment he was finally calm inside, the smoke coming from his mouth and nose, though blurry, turn into images of people and things he knew. He cracked a smile, with his dilated pupils surrounded with blue grey irises staring emptily into the space.

He heard sounds, footsteps, echoing outside the forsaken halls. The footsteps were brisk, started like a whisper and finally became louder and louder. He slid himself off the counter and went to the wooden door. Gently twisting the handle with his skinny white hand, he slowly pushed the door and leveled his eyes with the opening.

A beautiful black girl was restlessly walking through the wide passageway, her wavy dark brown hair flowing behind her head, taking deep breaths, her leather shoes tapping loudly on the floor.

Ezra closed the door and laid his back upon it. Curious, he went outside the cold bathroom, decided to follow the girl. What was she doing there? He seemed apathetic to people, but he could never fight off his prying curiosity. After all, it is what made him friends with Fletcher Morrison and the well-known Mary Jane. And now, he can't even get enough of them.

As his foot landed on the marble outside the door, he followed the course of the girl, and disappeared into the halls.