Cory retrieved his backpack from the janitor’s closet then followed Mason upstairs to the apartment, which he had never seen. The stairs ended on a landing with a door that opened onto the living room. Through an arch to the left he could see a small dining nook and the kitchen. To the right were three doors which Mason told him were for the bedrooms and the bath. “This one used to be mine when my parents and I lived here,” he said, opening one door. “Now it’s yours.”
“Oh.” Cory knew his expression showed his dismay for an instant before he forced a smile. “A room of my own.” When he stepped in, he saw a single bed along one wall with a door to, he presumed, the closet at its foot, a bank of bookshelves which took up most of the opposite wall, a desk underneath the window, and a small dre
