On the Surface

CHAPTER 3: A New Room

CHAPTER 3 A New Room

   Alex sat on the bed. He was alone... but in a creepy way, he decided not entirely. He knew there had been other kids, maybe 10 or maybe more on this exact same bed that he had now, mourning like he was. 

   In a recent tragedy, Seven of his family members had been knocked out with one blow. His home and almost all of his belongings had burned down in the fire. His mother, Father, Little sister, Uncle Harry and Aunt Sheila, Uncle Daniel and Aunt Maud had all perished.

   Alex had no one to take him in, his aunts and uncles had died, except for his Aunt Carmina, but she was in a crazy person home in San Antonio, Texas. Both sets of grandparents were dead, His mother's Father died before he was born, and the rest when he was very young. Being only sixteen now, this was too much to bear... but until someone found a suitable guardian for him, he was alone... and trapped here for two more years.

   Alex had a mop of blond hair, dark green eyes and a stony look of secracy. He wasn't mean, or scary at all, just a little different. He kept secrets. He told lies. Generally, he kept to himself unless he was provoked. He didn't tell anyone, not even his parents what he was thinking. He hadn't been to close with his parents, but he cared about Deenie, his dead baby sister. Some people called Alex demented, but he was only more quiet, more watchful and a little smarter than the other kids.

   With stunning accuracy, Alex remembered the night in a haunting sort of reality. He heard his mother laughing, his father telling jokes, Deenie screaming with fear as the orange and yellow heat overcame everything Alex needed, everything he loved.

   With a sudden snap of emotion, the boy broke into dry sobs. He couldn't cry for real... he would never be able to stop, he was afraid of crying alone. His knapsack held only a few possessions. A wind up machine that he had built, that whizzed around the room spraying out sparks and making a creaky noise. Some clothes that a man called Rob had bought him in a thrift shop, a sketchpad and pencils, a book, his old blanket that had been salvaged from the ruins, His dad's glasses, his mother's necklace, and one of the wheels off of Deenie's stroller. it was dark and charred, but Alex studied it thoughtfully as he pushed thoughts of it's owner from his mind.

   The sun rays poured into the room, flooding in on the floor with light and colour from the full, ceiling to floor windows. Their panes glittered and shone in the radiant light, and they seemed to be laughing, mocking Alex's pain. Alex shook his head in disgust. Window panes didn't laugh. He breathed in heavily and blew the air out in a noisy, agitated way. Seeing the light there reminded him of his old room when the sun breezed in and he would stare at it for minutes before finally deciding to go sit and bathe in the pool of warmth. It always made him sleepy just to sit there, and he would fall asleep. It was painful to think about this, so Alex dumped the sack with his belongings out onto the bed.

   The room was large, but had very little in it. The floors were wooden, with no carpet anywhere, and the walls were painted different colors: Blood red and navy blue. There were ragged, moth eaten curtains hanging dejectedly on the windows, white and embroidered with patterns that Alex couldn't make out. Every window was very skinny, only about two feet wide, but they were very long, from floor to ceiling and the glass was only a little smeared, and if Alex looked out he could see the whole city unfolding beneath him. He was 6 stories up. Up against the far wall by the door into  the outside corridor was a dark green dresser. that was all, besides the bed.

   Alex buried his face in the pillow on the bed. After the tragedy, he had been taken here, to "Mrs. Bathilde's Home for Orphaned Children" that was four months ago. He had been switched from home to home, as lawyers and other people in suits and reporters from the newspaper, and T.V.  came to see him and argued about everything. Finally, after all of that trauma he had been sent here, in "The Ivy Insitute for Boys and Girls ages 5-18" Which was an orphanidge/boarding school for kids with no parents not to far from his old city. He even knew one of the girls there.

   He couldn't tell if he would be here long before they switched him again. It was always herd to know. But before he knew it, just as he might be beggining to settle in, some guy in a suit came and told him to pack up. It was hard, to move from place to place, he kept having to adjust for all these different places.

   In frustration, in one of the homes, Alex had lashed out and hit one of the other guys. They hadn't gotten to far though, when an adult came to break them up. Alex would've liked to have another shot at the idiot, but he didn't have time before he was moved again. 

   He closed his eyes, thinking of sleep. That was what he needed right now. Something to rest on, a nice comfy bed, a pillow were under him, why not just doze off?

   There was a quiet knocking on the door. Alex froze. who would be here, now? Unless maybe...