I'm No Good at Colouring Inside the Lines

By the Window

Tommy was not an orphan.

He just wasn't.

Despite this, as long as he could remember people had been calling him one.

Sometimes they were subtle, talking in secret hushed voices they didn't think he could hear. Sometimes they made no such effort, pointing fingers and using the term as if they were accusing him of some unthinkable crime. 

He hated it.

Not to mention he didn't even know what the stupid thing meant!

One day he decided he was sick of that dumb word, and from then on if anyone used it, weather whispered or spoken, he would yell and hit and scream until his throat stung and his arms grew tired.

Ms.Puffy told him that it was bad to yell and hit, so he yell and hit her in retaliation.

Apparently, this didn't make him very appealing to the people who came to look for children. They always wanted a dainty little angel, cooing and prodding as if he was a very nice pedigree poodle.

He had ways of dealing with them, be it psychical or verbal.

Thanks to this it wasn't long till they stopped looking at him in favour of the new, fresh and decidedly less bitey children.

He hated the other children, and the feeling was usually mutual.

They were different from him. He was just baby when he was dropped off, they weren't. He couldn't remember anything from before, they could.

He'd often watched the new arrivals crying for their parents, longing for something he didn't understand. He'd watched them come and go, occasionally even returning, yet never for long.

He stayed, nobody ever took him home.

So for 5 years he grew up fairly alone, and that was how he liked it.

——————————-

The glass of the window was cold against his back as he leaned heavily into. His knees were pulled up close to his chest, and his old stuffed cow Henry dangled loosely from his hands.

Henry was his best, and only friend.
As well as being one of the only things he retained for his parents.

However like Tommy, he hadn't had it easy.

Ms.Puffy had fixed him up so many times that he was covered in lots of different coloured stitches and bits of thread.

Tommy often pretended that he had been a fearless cow warrior, and that he'd got lots of cool scars from his adventures.

Markus had told him that the story was stupid, so he punched him in the nose. He didn't even care that Puffy got angry at him or that he had to spend the day in time-out, because Markus never made fun of Henry again.

Markus was probably downstairs right down.

He knew he supposed to be down stairs, but he didn't want to go down stairs. So he didn't.

Instead he stayed put, tucked up by the window moving Henry around on his knees in plotless game.

"Tommy?!" a voice echoed from downstairs.

He didn't even bother to look up, staring into Henry's warm button eyes, thinking about what it would be like if he was as big as a real cow.

Maybe he and Tommy could run across the countryside, like the children from 'The Sound of Music'.
Then again they were always singing, he didn't really want to have to sing.

"You are here"
This time he made the effort to raise his head. Ms.Puffy stood in the doorways looking tired, but relieved.
"Come downstairs"

Tommy didn't so much as shuffle. "Don't wanna"

Puffy sighed. "I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice, we need to get everything ready for school tomorrow. Plus you haven't even had dinner."

Tommy frowned and gripped tighter on Henry's soft hooves.
"I don't wanna go"

"I know, but you can't keep avoiding it forever" said Puffy, her tone softening.

Tommy bit at the inside of his mouth, firmly finished with talking for the night.

Puffy picked up on this quickly, "Alright, I'll bring you something to eat, but you're going tomorrow, even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming"

She closed the door gently as she left.

The world was silent again. He squeezed Henry tight, running his finger over the delicate stitches.

"Why can't I be brave like you?"