Flight of the Phoenix (COMPLETED)

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

THE REST OF my roommates come sauntering into the domicile as I finish washing the windows.  It's 19:33.  I feel small against these giants.  Experienced in the ways of the Orphanage.  The elite group of nine boys and ten girls come in as a huddled mass instead of the orderly procession I am expecting.  At the forefront of this entourage is a tall, well built boy, 17 maybe, though his face says he's older, with coif jet black hair and eyes that have an unwavering laser focus.  He and a female companion walk toward me as I finish the job Deck Master Willcox told me to do.  "You're the new kid, huh?"  I continue my work, turning from him and not responding.  "What are you, mute?  Or do you just like the work that much?"  I feel his breath against my neck.  There are quiet snickers in the background.  Finishing the last window, I turn and find myself face to face with the tall, imposing near-adult.  "What's the matter?  Afraid to say hello?  The Deck Master seems to think you're a nice boy."  Guess that shouldn't surprise me.  But it does.

"Thought we wouldn't find out?"  The formidable female standing behind the as-yet unnamed leader of the pack raises an eyebrow to challenge me.  I don't rise to this kind of bait.  "Well, Willcox isn't known for keeping secrets.  Especially about little boys who cry over a chocolate bar."

An outburst of laughter swells in the room.  My whole body flushes with embarrassment.  The problem is, she's right.  But they don't understand how simple memories hide horribly painful nightmares in me.  I have to remind myself to be respectful.  I'm new here.  Causing problems is not the right thing to do.  It would be a bad idea anyway, these kids look they could beat me into a gelatinous pulp.

The throng behind the female is filing out to each of their beds, stashing away numerous implements which I assume were used for whatever work they were assigned that day.  Deck Master Willcox appears in the doorway, flashing a smile to no one in particular.  "It's nineteen forty-four.  Lights out in fifteen."

The female companion swings around me and flops on the bed next to mine.  Getting a closer look at her, she seems a lot like Dana.  And not just in her facial features. "That's Willcox for you.  Always looking to jump ahead," she whispers to me.  Something in her tone of voice catches a memory in my head of the day I lost Dana forever.

Back in late December, after an unusually long twelve-hour day in school, I skipped my normal trek to Sarah's house and went straight home.  My mind was mush and the biting wind toyed with idea of turning my skin into ice.  Freezing me in place if I dared to stop.  The walk seemed longer as I fought against the drifts of snow collecting around my shoes and against my legs.  Sarah had offered a pair of Jacob's thermal socks before the storm came in but I turned them down.  Halfway home that day, I was kicking myself for having been so stupid.  I only had to borrow them and Sarah said she would take care of any applicable rental fees.  With Jacob being a Guardian, I knew I couldn't keep them, but he wouldn't have missed them if they disappeared for only a day or two.  There was no way to get them once I was closer to home than to Sarah's house.  I finally got home, soaking wet and literally chilled to the bone.  Mom had thought ahead.  The instant I opened the door, I felt the warmth of the lone lit fire log, we had only three more left for the season, slowly dry up the snow covering me from head to toe.  I kicked my boots against the floor and slung my coat, hat and burlap strip over dad's burgundy chair.

"John!" Dana shrieked.

I looked at her sheepishly.  "Sorry, Sis.  Didn't see you."

"Right.  You aren't the only one trying to dry off."  Dana twisted back into the chair, shoving my winter outerwear onto the ground.  Flopping her head back to a comfortable position, she added, "Serves you right."