I didn't need reminding which cabin belonged to the Warden. It was the nicest-looking thing in the entire camp: The only trees for God knows how many miles outside it, windows that weren't cracked, a freshly-painted door. There was also an AC hooked up to it, and a really nice vintage car was parked outside it. Like I said, it was the nicest part of camp, but not for the nicest of people. Or so I've been told, and I'd come to learn firsthand.
I went onto the porch and knocked on the door. I knew that the day before, Pendanski said not to upset the Warden, which I was probably going to do, but it was sort of an emergency.
"If this is Sevillo or that doctor, go away. I'm not in the mood right now," a woman called from inside.
Yep. She was upset about something.
"It's not," I said.
A red-haired lady opened the door. "Oh, it's you," she said. "What do you want?"
I wondered how she knew who I was, but didn't say anything. I just told her about my problem.
"Come in, then," she said, closing the door behind us. Once inside, she asked, "Why aren't you more prepared for this?"
"Well, I wasn't exactly expecting it. Apparently I'm a late bloomer, so I was hoping it'd start after my 18 months here."
She gave me a box from her bathroom and shoved me out of the house, saying, "Don't let any of the boys see those."