Alibi

She clicked open the lock to the door and a strong unfamiliar odor hit her.
Alcohol or some kind of spirit.
Reflexly, she pinched her nose, and gingerly entered.
The room was dark and foreboding. She traipsed onto the changing room area, not bothering to switch on the lights. The odor was stronger.
Something told her that danger lay there.
True enough.
Sprawled full length on the dark stone floor was her roommate, still in her uniform, the pinafore clinging to her spindly legs,softly moaning, head lolling dangerously close to shards of glass from a broken bottle, glinting in the semi-darkness.
“This time she has no alibi.” The first thought that came to the mind in a cascade of worrisome notions.

Minutes later, the ample room seemed small , as it was crowded with girls from neighbouring rooms, monitors of various shades and portfolios, Teachers bustling in and out , importantly, and other hanger-ons.Matrons rifling the cupboards and cabinets looking for traces of drugs, reading all correspondence, with positive vicarious delight. What she hated most was the grilling she received at their hands. Hows, whys, whats and whens.

As if she was supposed to be in possession of all answers to problems that plagued her roommate!How was she supposed to know, when, where from and how the bottle was smuggled onto the premises ?How many friends did she have ? Why wasn't she close enough to her roommate? What rubbish? She thought she will feign heart attack now, when the senior , most repulsive , rescued her ,out of the blue.

"Leave the poor girl alone , will you?" 

The authority in the voice was not challenged, and she was left alone. Phew.

 She changed in the privacy of her bathroom, still faintly reeking of alcohol, damn the girl! Glumly thinking of how many hours will be spent at the psychiatrists' office trying to convince everyone , that she truly didn't know the person her roommate was metamorphosing into.