The new girl

Walking down the corridor at the old orphanage, the first orphanage, the one he loved. His room. His and Jasper's room. The window seat, the two beds. Jasper looking up from his desk, smiling, glad to see him. Jasper saying something. Something very important. The most important message, the secret message. But the buses, the buses were so loud, he couldn't hear him. "Louder, Jasper, louder!" But Jasper keeps smiling, keeps talking, doesn't notice. Millions of voices, and the matron and the doctor are there, and the wardens and the social workers, and the foster parents, and Jasper is off in the corner, he can't see him anymore, can't hear him. What was the message, Jasper? What was the message?

A shiver went through him. He swayed, lifting his sweaty forehead from his arms. It took him a moment to realize where he was, and that he must have been dreaming. The dream had been beautiful at the beginning, terrible at the end, but he longed to be in it again. If only he hadn't awakened! That was when he noticed the figure moving far below him. A very small figure with dark hair, walking up a flight of steps. His heart began to beat furiously. He started to call out, but at the first croaking sound his voice caught in his throat, and he blushed. Very slowly and cautiously, resting his hand on a step, he stood up. He began to be conscious of the regular sound of footsteps in the vast quietness, as the person below marched up the stairs. Obviously it was someone familiar with this place, for there was no hesitation in his gait, no apprehension as he looked calmly from side to side. It must be someone coming to get him out. I have to call out to him, Peter said to himself. What if he doesn't find me, and goes away, and just leaves me here? This thought was enough to bring out his voice.

"Hey?" he said falteringly, and then more loudly, "Hey!" Still not a shout, but enough to make the figure below stop and look around.

"Up here!" Peter stammered. "Above you!"

The black head below him suddenly became white as the person looked up at him. The hair was quite short, but the pointed face was thin and delicate, and Peter could not tell if it was a boy or a girl. The voice, however, though rather rough, was distinctly feminine.

"Hey!" she shouted up at him, her words carrying clearly across the space between them. "What is this?"

"Wh-what?" Peter murmured, more to himself than to her. But that must mean she didn't know any more than he did! The disappointment made him feel faint. "But don't you know?" he said.

"Speak up!" she shouted, her hand at her ear. "Can't hear you!"

"But don't you even know?" he screamed, clenching his fists, his throat suddenly clogged with tears. "Don't you know?"

"No, I do not know!" she shouted back, her hands on her hips, "but I'm gonna find out pretty quick."

And she began running up the stairs. As she bounded toward him, he reflected that even if she couldn't get him out, it was probably better to have her here than to be alone. Although she was a bit frightening; he wished it could have been someone who seemed gentler. He looked aside as she reached his landing, too shy to meet her gaze.

She was a little shorter than he, and had to stand quite close, the landing was so small. He turned to look at her. But the black eyes in her olive-skinned face were so direct and penetrating, yet speculative, that he quickly looked away again.

"So you don't know where the hell we are either?" she said.

Peter shook his head, a little startled by her use of profanity. "No… um, somebody… they just took me here, they blindfolded me and just left me here. I don't know anything."

"Me either. And they pulled that blindfold stunt on me, too. I knew they had it in for me, but I never thought they'd do anything like this. Who brought you here, anyway? I mean, you must have known who it was, if they took you away from home and all."

"But they didn't. I mean … I don't have a home. I don't have any parents. I live in an orphanage."

"So do I."

"You do?"

She nodded.

"So today they just called me to the office," he continued, looking down at his feet, "and blindfolded me, and told me to go with the person who was there. And they tied my hands—"

"Can't you talk any louder? I'm right next to you and I can hardly hear a thing you're saying."

He raised his voice with an effort. "And took me in this car, and brought me here, and took the blindfold off, and that's all."

"Yeah, same with me. Except I thought I knew what they were doing. They'd been threatening to throw me in reform school for months, and after that last little trick I pulled—"

She paused and chuckled to herself, "—after that, I thought, sure thing, they finally did it. But you— hey, look at me, I don't bite—"

He raised his head, his eyes wavering across her face.

"You don't exactly seem the type who'd do anything, ah, anything they'd get after you for."

"No," he said, "I never did anything they didn't like. That's why I can't understand why … why they did this to me."

"Yeah. Well I don't get it either, because if you're here it couldn't be like a punishment thing. So you're an orphan, too. That's kind of interesting. It must mean something…."

"Mmm," he said. It was awkward, standing so close to her, so carefully he stepped back and sat down on the second step, looking over both sides to make sure he was exactly in the middle.

"But the question is, how do we get out?" she went on.

"Got any ideas?"

He shook his head.

"Yeah. Well, let's see…." She was wearing jeans and a tight black T-shirt, standing with her feet apart and her arms folded across her thin chest.

What a bold girl, more like a daredevil...another orphan brought here? will she be able to find a way?