The cold, damp air of the American Northeast hits you the moment you arrive. Bullworth is a dreary, small industrial town surrounded by dark forests and gray hills. The sky always seems overcast, bathed in that dull autumn light that makes everything look sad and dingy.
Graffiti hides on the side walls, and the scent of wet leaves mingles with the smell of cheap (and unhealthy—very unhealthy) cafeteria food. Inside the school, the hallways are long, with worn-out yellow floor tiles that creak under your shoes. The metal lockers are dented and covered in old stickers. The faint echo of distant voices and mocking laughter is always present in the background. The library is dark and dusty, smelling of aged books. The gym reeks of sweat and worn leather balls. The Auto Shop smells of oil and metal. The cafeteria always carries that scent of reheated institutional food.