The Trap Door
At the age of nine, I was uprooted from the home I'd grown to know and love. My parents promised that the new home would be just as wonderful as our old place, once I got used to it. But all I could think about were the things we were leaving behind: the basement with its colorful shag carpet; the backyard with its grove of pines like a private cathedral; the attic with its endless mysteries and cobwebs.
The new house smelled funny. Actually, it wasn't "new" at all: the house had been built in the 1920's. The floors creaked underfoot, and there were cracks in the ceiling. Meanwhile, there wasn't a backyard at all, just an alleyway. My parents said the place had character. I didn't know what this meant, but it sounded fishy.
I spent the first day sulking in an empty bedroom, looking out the window at an unfamiliar neighborhood. I didn't notice the door at first. It was on the opposite wall from the window, positioned about four feet above the floor. It had been painted the same off-white color as the walls. Eventually, though, it caught my eye.
I walked over to examine it. It was a strange door, about the size of a small window. At the base of it was a little knob. I had to stand on a chair to reach it. Despite its small size, it was heavy, and I strained to hold it open as I peered inside.
At first, all I could see was darkness. Then, as my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized that I was looking into a spacious room. Wooden beams ran across the low ceiling, and I could make out names carved into the beams. Against the far wall was a little shelf made of bricks and plywood, and upon the shelf sat a row of old, dusty books. It looked like the perfect meeting place for a secret club. I couldn't help but wonder about the things that had gone on inside such a strange room.
I heard the sound of my parents downstairs, moving boxes from one room to another. I quickly shut the trap door. I wanted to keep this secret room to myself.
I went downstairs and announced to my parents that I'd figured out which bedroom I wanted.
"Well, David," my father said. "It sounds as if you're warming up to the new house after all, eh?"
A stubborn child, I shook my head. "I just like one room so far. That's it."
What does the setting say about the boy's character?
A.
He is afraid of enclosed spaces.
B.
He likes exploring new places.
C.
He does not like keeping secrets.
D.
He is a cowardly, fearful person.