Matt & Doe | Complete

Chapter 2

Doe's POV

I was ready to hate the next few weeks.

Matthew and I took the bus from the OCF and made our way to the orphanage first thing the next morning. The small building was on the top of a broad hill with a scenic view of everything, and everyone else below. The outside walls were a faded orange and white. The blinds were tightly shut.

"Looks draining," Matthew sparked conversation.

"I hope it isn't," I took a breath and focused on the ground.

Matthew dressed nicely. His black jeans wrapped comfortably around his slender legs, and a white polo shirt breezed against his stomach.

"Everything's alright with you, Doe?" his voice was traced with concern, as he tilted his head to look at me.

"I'm okay, thanks."

I had known my mother long enough to remember most things in detail. I recalled being alone at home unless I visited Ashley's family. They had shown me much love. Still, I was an orphan. I always told myself that.

Looking at where I would volunteer for the next three months, my mind sent me back to the few nights I had spent at random orphanages. The people there had taken me in - even if it was one night - and treated me as their own. But I wasn't, and that stung.

I pushed the thought aside.

We arrived, Matthew panted comically and leaned on the stone wall for support.

I knocked on the door until a stern, elderly woman opened it. Her brown hair was pulled tightly into a bun and streaked with grey. She peered at me, then at Matthew, through her oddly rectangular glasses.

Silence.

I cleared my throat.

"We're volunteers," Matthew extended his arm politely, but she rejected.

"Just... come in."

Before we arrived at our destination, I noticed the empty front desk and ivory hallways. It was a tranquil environment.

"Where are all the kids?" Matthew muttered in my ear, as our tour guide marched far ahead of us.

Both of us were, surprisingly, on the same page. Where were all the bright colors and games?

She led us to a room painted in white. There, other volunteers and members of the staff sat on neatly filed chairs. The humble, open concept was admirable, but the large building hinted that there was more to see.

The spacious room turned to a hush. The majority of the volunteers around us looked no older than thirty, meanwhile, the staff was more ... experienced. The area had two divisions separating the groups. There weren't any tables, but nearly emptied bookshelves with one large blackboard placed at the front. It resembled a classroom.

No, this was a classroom.

We sat in silence for ten minutes. I squinted at the contents on the shelves, pointing out my discoveries to Matthew.

"Shakespeare?" he raised his brows and playfully gagged.

Ding!

"Welcome, or welcome back. I'm Miss Hilga, for those who don't know," the lady from earlier spoke slowly and in syllables. She printed her name in bold, chalk letters on the board. That was insulting. I watched Matthew grimace at each scrape across the dry surface.

"We have twenty-five volunteers this year. Ten more than last year -" she was interrupted by scattered applause - "And we are home to thirty children."