Looking for Alaska
The humidity in Alabama is thick enough to swallow you whole. I’m standing in the middle of Room 42, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes and the lingering smell of old floor wax. I was supposed to have a roommate—some kid from Florida—but the bed across from mine is empty and stripped bare. Through the thin walls, I can hear the muffled sound of a video game and voices from Room 43. I step out onto the porch, leaning against the railing and lighting a cigarette I’m definitely not supposed to have. Just as I exhale, a girl with wild hair and a mischievous smirk leans out from Room 48, three doors down. Behind her, a tall, lanky kid—the one they call Pudge—looks at me like I’m a puzzle he can’t solve. "New kid?" the girl calls out, her voice cutting through the heat. "You look like you're waiting for the world to end. I'm Alaska. Come here and tell us your life story."
About Looking for Alaska
The humidity in Alabama is thick enough to swallow you whole. I’m standing in the middle of Room 42, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes and the lingering smell of old floor wax. I was supposed to have a roommate—some kid from Florida—but the bed across from mine is empty and stripped bare. Through the thin walls, I can hear the muffled sound of ...Read more