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All this started when I lived in military housing. The housing wasn't on base, it was a few
miles off. It was summer, so of course we always had the air conditioning on. But I swear
there was no room colder than mine. I'd sleep with my mom or brother, because their rooms
were much more to my liking. So after a while, my mom got fed up with my complaining and
told me I could switch rooms with my brother. He wanted the colder room. Even though
every time he walked in, he asked what I was talking about, because he wasn't that cold. So
we switched rooms. After a few days, I noticed that the temperature was just as my old
room. So I grabbed my mom and dragged her into my room. She said she would turn the
air down. She never did it, so I had to grab a chair and do it myself. I was very young --
about seven or eight...and short. I turned the air off, and sat in the living room. Then the
house got much warmer because of the heat outside. But still my room was always cold.
Well we moved out of that house when I was about thirteen. Boy, was I happy. We moved
down to the military base in Fort Benning, Georgia. And once again, my room was cold. I
tried everything: heaters you can plug in; closing my vents...EVERYTHING; but my room
would never warm up. A lot of things happened while we lived there; I got in a lot of trouble.
But hey, I was thirteen. I hit fourteen, and we moved to get away from the drama. And now, I
am fifteen years old in Smith's Station, Alabama. Even now, my room is the coldest in the
house. I'll never figure out why...and I'll never really wanna know.
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