Chapter the First
I stomped into the wash room, slamming the door shut behind me. I turned the sink on full blast. Running my fingers through my hair, I flicked the gooey mashed potatoes into the sink. I sighed, watching the mush swirl down the drain.
Another food fight had happened, just for me. It was probably started by Agatha “The Agitator,” or one of her goons. Everything was started by the Agatha; she ruled the school.
Well, technically speaking, this wasn’t a school. More like a sick imitation, where orphans lived. Many of these “Children’s Homes” were built in the last 10 years, after the deaths of so many people in the War That Nobody Remembers. Apparently, along with people loss, there was memory loss too, since nobody can remember how or why the war was started. Or even who was fighting in it. A lot of people call it the non-war, even though it’s not exactly accurate.
Sighing more, I wiped my limp white hair with a towel. I’ve always hated my hair. It’s the main reason I have no friends and everybody picks on me. I don’t know why I have white hair, but a lot of the children here have some theories: 1.) I’m radioactive 2.) I secretly dye it in the middle of the night, just to make myself different 3.) I’m an alien 4.) I’m really an old lady pretending to be a 15 year old girl. All of these are obviously ridiculous. My theory? Genetics. The most practical reason of course. But that’s just me.
I heard a small pattering outside the door followed by a weak knock on the door.
“Jane? I heard a door slam. You’re not making trouble again, are you?” came a small voice, followed by some deep gasping breaths.
“No, Ms. Harrington,” I replied sweetly.
“Good,” she replied, clearly relieved that she wouldn’t have to do anything.
After she pattered off, I opened the door and crept down the hallway to my room.
There were exactly 13 kids here at Hollow Hill Children’s Home, and exactly 7 rooms. By sheer luck I had a room all to myself. Good thing, too. I’d never be able to stand being in a room with some kid who would probably ignore me, or put nasty things in my dresser. Anyway, I liked being alone. It was how I’d always been, and probably always would be.
I went in and got out my old music box. It was the only thing I had left of my old life, the life I didn’t remember. It was very pretty, pale pink with white roses intertwining. In the center was a square with a larger rose. It was heavy enough to have something inside, but I’d poked and prodded the thing for hours, with no luck.
Sighing, I set it down and lay back on my bed. If I could just get it open, it might give me a clue to my past…
…
I woke with a start as the morning bell clanged. I got up quickly and changed into clean clothes, throwing my used ones in the hamper. Every child here has three sets of clothes, plus our Sunday best. Cleaning days were Monday and Thursday. The cleaning lady would come with her big white truck and load up all our clothes and sheets, taking them to the launder-o-mat. Today was Tuesday and I hoped nobody would push me into a mud puddle. Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time.
Picking up my music box, I stashed it up in the rafters, and then headed down to breakfast. A year ago I had begged Ms. Harrington to let me eat in my room, but for once she had been strong and refused.
The dining hall was small and crowded. At the front was a counter set with plates of the food allotted for one meal. Four small tables stood near each corner of the room. At one table sat Agatha and her posse of “cool” girls, at another was the gang of guys who thought they were “cool” too, but weren’t allowed to sit with the girls. The third table was where anyone who wasn’t “cool” enough to be part of a group sat. The final table, of course, was where I sat, alone.
But today, someone else was there.
After getting my breakfast of sticky oatmeal, burnt toast, and watery milk, I sat down at my table. I didn’t recognize the boy across from me. He looked about my age, with short dark brown hair and eyes the color of melted chocolate. He looked up when I sat down, and smiled.
“Hello, I’m Riley,” he said, holding out his hand.
I just stared at it. After a few moments he withdrew it. I looked up to see him frowning slightly.
Fwump. I turned around to Agatha “The Agitator,” holding the rest of the toast she had just thrown at me, a grin marring her already hideous face. Sighing, I stood up, ready to leave. Agatha turned to Riley.
“Hey, you. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is the loser’s table. Why don’t you come and sit with us?” she said in her disgustingly sweet voice.
Riley blinked. “No thanks. But maybe you should sit here; you’d fit right in,” he replied, smirking.
I watched with pleasure as Agatha’s face turned red with rejection. “Whatever,” she said, walking back to her table.
After dumping my food, I decided to head up to the roof. I crept up to the attic, being careful not to let Ms. Harrington hear me. She may be afraid of involvement, but she had ears like a wild cat. Fortunately, she usually took a nap about this time.
I tried the handle on the door; Ms. Harrington had locked it again. Sighing, I took out my lock picking kit. It was one of the things I always kept with me. It only took me 30 seconds to open it. Thinking back, I remembered when it used to take me at least 20 minutes to open a simple lock. But, then again, that was 6 years ago.
Once I got into the attic, I hopped up on the table and reached for the skylight above. Opening it, I pulled myself up onto the roof in one swift movement. Breathing in the crisp March air, I looked around; and stopped in my tracks.
Sitting on the edge of the roof was Riley.
I just stared at him for a few moments.
“What?” he asked after a while.
I swallowed hard. “How did you get up here?” I asked. Did he know how to pick locks too?
“I flew,” he replied, grinning.
I rolled my eyes and stepped back towards the skylight.
“Hey, wait. Why don’t you come and sit with me?” he called.
I looked back to see if he was joking; his eyes were playful, but sincere. I sighed and walked to him, plopping myself down next to him. We sat in silence for a few moments. Finally he said, “Hey, you never did tell me your name.”
I looked at him. “Jane. Jane Mooney,” I said.
For some reason he looked…disappointed. “I was sure this time…” he muttered, looking down.
I looked at him curiously. What was up with him?
“My last name is Memaran, by the way. Riley Memaran,” he said, sort of dejectedly. He turned back to the city, and I stared at him curiously. He was acting so strange…I turned back to the city too.
“You know, the city looks really great. All the people and cars…. Don’t have much of that where I come from,” Riley remarked.
“Where do you come from? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Tann. It’s right outside Angia.”
“Angia? Where’s that?”
He shook his head and muttered something. I turned to him; he looked a bit exasperated, but he was grinning. I smiled a bit. He might have some issues, but at least he seemed easy-going.
Suddenly he got up. “Well. I think I know where I’m going now,” he said, stretching.
I look up at him dumbly. “And where’s that?”
“There.” He pointed.
I followed his finger, but couldn’t tell where it was he wanted to go; too many places. I looked back at him, but already his head was disappearing through the skylight.
“Hey!” I yelled, and went after him. I got into the attic and opened the door, running down the stairs. I didn’t see him until I was outside; he was half-way down the block.
“Hey!” I yelled again. He turned, slowed, and grinned at me. I ran up to him panting. “Geez, you’re fast,” I said, trying to catch my breath.
“Nah, you’re just slow.”
I didn’t think his grin could get any wider; it did. I rolled my eyes and turned the corner. His pace was much slower now,
but I still had to walk pretty quickly to keep up with him.
“So where are we going again?” I asked him.
“The city,” he replied, and turned into a pizza shop.
...
We ended up going into almost every shop within a 5 mile radius of Hollow Hill Children’s Home. Which, by the way, is probably about a thousand shops; at least, it felt that way. Actually, I’d never known we had so many interesting shops in Hatton. In just 3 blocks there was a toy store, a movie rental place, a tattoo shop owned by a man completely covered in tattoos, a movie rental place, a pizza shop that smelled like heaven, and a hair salon with outrageous hair styles to choose from. I had more fun than I’d had since, well, ever.
I was exhausted by the, but Riley hadn’t slowed down at all. After a while I had to tell him I couldn’t move another step. He looked a bit annoyed, but not in a bad way.
We stopped at a nearby coffee shop called Café la Troi. I didn’t have any money on me, so Riley bought me a low-fat peppermint steamer and a chai tea for himself. We sat at a table near the window, and I watched the cars and people going by.
Sipping his tea, Riley looked around the shop. “So many people have laptops here,” he remarked.
I looked around. He was right; I counted more than 10 people tapping away at computers.
“Must be a city thing,” he said.
“I take it Tann’s in the country?” I asked.
“Yup, nothing but clear skies, huge fields, and tiny schools.”
“I see.”
We lapsed back into silence. I tuned into a conversation between two moms: “…chalkboard. They just play all day, and then go to lunch. It’s fun and it’s good she has a friend with her….” I tuned out again and glanced at the clock. Sighing, I stood up.
“We’d better go. We already missed lunch and Ms. Harrington’s going to be wondering where we are,” I said.
“But I didn’t finish my tea,” Riley complained.
“Just bring it with you.”
“It’s bad for your digestion to walk while drinking.”
“Says who?” I grabbed his hand and led him out of the shop. I practically ran 3 miles straight. It wasn’t that I cared about any punishment Ms. Harrington could dish out; she wasn’t into discipline, and usually only sent you to your room for an hour. No, it was what the other kids would think, Riley and I being out so late together…. I shook the thought out of my head and picked up my pace.
“You can let go of my hand now,” came Riley’s voice.
I looked back and down at my hand, still gripping his. “Oh, sorry,” I apologized, dropping his hand like a hot coal. He didn’t say anything and I slowed; we walked the rest of the way back in silence.
When we reached Hollow Hill, I stopped before going in. Steeling myself, I opened the door, almost ceremoniously. I walked into the main hall; and felt a wet drop on my head. I looked up just as another glob fell, and chunky potato stew splattered across my face. I wiped it out of my eyes and saw Agatha “The Agitator,” glaring, with a bowl of cold soup.
“Welcome back, love birds,” she sneered nastily.
I sighed and walked quickly to the stairs. Agatha met me at the top.
“Where ya goin’ Moody? Off to cry in the bathroom again?” she made a boo-hoo face at me. Rolling my eyes, I stepped around her and into the bathroom. I heard Riley’s voice saying something like “Why you…” just before I closed the door.
I grabbed a towel and wiped my face and hair. Agatha didn’t usually throw this much food at me; must be the fact that I had a friend now. I paused and smiled. I guess I did have a friend now; my first ever.
I opened the door and went back into the hallway. It was unusually quiet; then I noticed why. Agatha Roxley was buried under a huge mound of cold, chunky potato soup. I looked around, gaping, for the culprit. Riley was in the far corner, a huge grin plastered across his face.
“Pretty cool, huh?” he said, laughing.
I didn’t say anything for a moment; I was still in shock. Then I burst out laughing. “How…did… you get so much…soup?” I managed to gasp out.
He shrugged, a vacant look clouding his eyes, but then he seemed to snap out of it.
“Come on, before Ms. Harrington comes,” he said, leading the way to the far end of the hallway. I followed him, and he opened the door to my room.
“How’d you know where my room was?” I asked him.
“You mean you’re my roommate?!” he said incredulously. I stared at him. He was serious.
I
walked in and noticed the extra cot. Yup, I had a roommate all right; something I’d never wanted, but what did that matter?
...
That night I couldn’t sleep, although Riley didn’t seem to have the same problem; he snored louder than a jackhammer.
I kept thinking about the day I’d had: the breakfast, the roof, exploring the city with Riley… Usually I didn’t do anything but read books and hang out on the roof. Now that Riley was here, I had so much I wanted to do and see with him. He was a bit strange, though. I still had no idea how he’d gotten onto the roof, unless he had somehow locked the roof door from the outside after he’d gone in. Another thing was his disappointment about my name. It wasn’t my real name of course. Ms. Harrington had named me, after I had arrived at the Children’s Home. The fact that I couldn’t even remember my name was baffling to the police. I was six, so I should be ready to recite my name and phone number on command, right? But I seriously don’t remember anything up until the police found me in a hotel bathroom. Even the details of that are blurry. Ambulances, police cars, flashing lights, people yelling and gently asking me questions; thinking about it now makes my head hurt. I was in the hospital for months under “traumatic care,” but with no one to pay the bills they eventually deemed me incurable.
But there was something about Riley that tugged at my memory. Maybe I had known Riley in my early days? Could he be a link to my past? I shook my head and turned over. That was ridiculous. I was just getting my hopes up, thinking about things too hard. I would probably never get my memory back. If the police couldn’t find any records of my past, what chance did I have on my own?
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to drive out these circling thoughts. Eventually I drifted into an uneasy sleep.
but on this part "I was exhausted by the, but Riley hadn’t slowed down at all." I think you missed a word before the comma. Other than that I didn't find anything wrong. It was great... Ms. Harrington 
nice touch. I can't wait to read more! Keep writing please!
