The Sensitive, Page 2

  She set the box back in the drawer. Quietly, she got up and opened the window, then climbed onto the roof. The trees were brightly illuminated by the full moon which made their shadows look like gnarled wooden soldiers, guarding the night. She sat underneath a large branch that hung over the roof and listened.

  After a few minutes, a soft hoot, hoot broke the silence. Then a second hoot, hoot replied from a different spot. She smiled at hearing the owls. She had wanted to see one close up for a long time. Fynn loved animals - except porcupines, of course - but she was particularly fond of birds. She felt as though she could relate to them better than people.

  When she explored the mountains around their house, birds often followed her. At first, it was a curious thing but it didn’t take long for her to grow comfortable with their company; so much so that she talked with them. She got the impression that they understood what she was saying. Perhaps she just wished they understood but she had learned to keep this belief to herself.

  Looking in the direction of the sounds she saw movement in another tree. She stood and walked to the edge of the roof to get a better look but still couldn’t see the owl. Oh, how she longed to see one up close.

  She took a few steps to the side to peer through the branches at the next tree, hoping to catch a glimpse of movement. Suddenly, there was a whooshing sound and she felt a presence nearby. She stood still and slowly turned her head. On the roof, not ten feet away, was an owl with its golden eyes gazing directly at her. Soft yellow light coming through the bedroom window added sheen to its speckled feathers, making them shimmer. The owl simply stood there and looked at her, as though it was waiting for something. Its big round eyes blinked.

  Fynn wondered if she could get closer. She extended her hand toward the owl and took a step. Not realizing how close she had been to the edge of the roof, her foot slipped. She lost her balance and with arms flailing wildly, started to fall. She twisted her body slightly and grabbed for the nearest branch. The owl didn’t care much for all that commotion so it turned its head toward the yard, extended its enormous wings and lifted off. Fynn’s heart was pounding, not just from nearly falling but also from excitement at seeing the owl. She took in a deep breath. That was so cool!

  Carefully, she walked back to her window and climbed in. She hoped the ruckus didn’t wake Miss Wiggles. She knew she’d never convince Miss Wiggles that her mother allowed her on the roof – or that her mother occasionally joined her – and she certainly didn’t want another lecture on how she shouldn’t do anything that might stress her mother right now.

  Fynn quickly turned out the light and snuggled into bed. She couldn’t wait to tell her mother what happened. Of course, she would omit the part about almost falling.

  She was too restless to sleep. There were thoughts at the back of her mind that continually fought for her attention – thoughts she didn’t want to face, like: What’s going to happen to me when Mom dies? Where will I live? I’ll be an orphan! I’ll be alone.

  It took a while but, eventually, she pushed those thoughts back into the far corners of her mind, from where they came. Finally, she drifted off into a brief, fitful sleep. On a subconscious level, some part of her sensed just how much her life was about to change.

  Chapter 4

  _______________________

  The day after her mother was buried Miss Wiggles drove Fynn to the town of Tungate, to a home for orphans. Dark gray clouds hung in the sky and added to the knotted dread Fynn felt in her gut. The drive took a few hours and Fynn slept to give her overwhelmed mind a temporary break from having to think or anticipate what was to come.

  The previous night, she laid awake trying to understand her mother’s last words - to trust that everything, from that moment on, would play out exactly how it should - but the idea that she was to live in an orphanage the rest of her life was too much to bear. She clutched her rucksack the entire drive, as though holding it tightly would prevent her life from falling apart. The bag contained very few items; the only one she cared about was the box given to her by her mother.

  Fynn woke just as they entered Tungate. She looked out the window as they drove through town, heading west. She had never lived in a town and concluded that it wasn’t nearly as interesting as being in the country. At least the mountains were nearby but she already missed being in them. She looked at the buildings, and houses, and cars, and people, who seemed to be everywhere. Most thirteen year old kids would have been thrilled by all the shops and cool looking places but to Fynn there was too much stuff and too little space – not to mention all those vibes. Her heartbeat quickened, just at the thought of it. How can I do this?!? I’ll throw up on everyone!

  They turned a corner and Miss Wiggles had to slow for several people crossing the street. Fynn noticed a cat sitting beside the road. It was dark gray with penetrating emerald eyes and a splotch of white in the middle of its forehead. It stared right at her as they drove past and she saw its mouth move as it meowed. It seemed odd that the cat was focused directly on her but as they continued down the road, she soon dismissed it.

  Several blocks later, they came to the town square. A small crowd gathered in one section to watch several street performers. One was a juggling unicyclist; another was a mime in a black suit with white gloves and white face; and a third was a man and woman playing guitars and singing. Once more, Miss Wiggles had to slow for people in the street and when she did, Fynn saw another cat with the exact same color and markings as the last one. Again, the cat’s gaze followed her and this time it pawed at the air.

  Her nose wrinkled. “That’s strange,” she mumbled.

  Miss Wiggles concentrated to not hit any of the people in the street. “What’s that dear?”

  “Nothing.”

  Minutes later they were near the western edge of town. Miss Wiggles turned in front of a large piece of property that sprawled over several acres at the base of a hill. The tall, thick, black iron fence around its perimeter gave Fynn the impression that it wasn’t just to keep people out. Her sense was that it was also to keep those inside from getting out. Halfway down the length of the grounds, Miss Wiggles turned onto the dirt road that entered the property and passed through an open gate. A sign announced they were entering Happy Days Home for Children.

  Farther ahead, she noticed a cat sitting on the edge of the road. She feared it was too close to the car’s path but Miss Wiggles wasn’t correcting for it. The cat looked in their direction, abruptly stood, and turned sideways with its back arched and its tail fluffed out in a playful stance. It pawed at the air. It was identical to the two cats in town. Suddenly, it ran in front of the car and she knew they would hit it!

  She slapped the dashboard with her hand. “Look out!”

  Miss Wiggles hit the brakes. Tires came to a screeching halt and a cloud of dust surrounded the car. Miss Wiggles put her hand to her chest. “My goodness, child, you gave me a scare!”

  “I didn’t want you to hit the cat,” she cried as she flung open the door and ran to check on it. Fearing the worst, she expected to see it dead in the middle of the road but there was no sign of it. She looked under the car and around the tires. Not only was the cat gone, there was also no blood or fur to indicate that it was ever there.

  Miss Wiggles got out of the car. “What cat are you talking about?”

  “The cat in the road! Didn’t you see it run in front of us?”

  Miss Wiggles watched Fynn walk around the car. The poor girl is just upset. “There was...no...cat,” she muttered to herself. She looked down the road and saw a woman waiting for them in front of the building.

  Fynn continued walking around, clearly not accepting that there simply was no cat.

  “Fynn, I’m sure the cat is fine.” She said it more to humor her than out of a belief there really was a cat.

  They got back in the car. Fynn kept looking for it while Miss Wiggles drove the last distance to t
he building entrance. She parked the car and got out.

  “Is there a problem?” the woman asked.

  “No. She thought she saw a cat run in front of the car,” replied Miss Wiggles.

  “I did see a cat,” said Fynn as she got out.

  The woman studied Fynn for a moment. “There are no cats or dogs inside the fence, I can assure you.”

  Fynn didn’t seem to hear. She stared at the building, not because it was enormous in size or constructed of large, cement blocks that were drab gray. She stared because the ominous vibrations emanating from it weighed heavily on her senses as though it cried out to be saved before the earth opened and swallowed it whole.

  She shuddered under the weight; it was a total contradiction to the name on the sign – nothing felt ‘happy’ about it. The building looked like a giant mausoleum and the sense of dread intensified. She didn’t want to go inside.

  She looked back at the gate they drove through and, for a moment, considered running for it. But, even if she made it out, where would she run to? She glanced sideways at Miss Wiggles, who was staring straight ahead, purposely avoiding eye contact. She had no choice; she had to go inside.

  Fynn promised herself she wouldn’t be here long. She didn’t know how or when but, somehow, she would find a way out.

  Chapter 5

  _______________________

  The woman spoke. “Fynn, my name is Miss Snipworth. I’m the headmistress here. Shall we go inside?” She held out her arm and motioned toward the door.

  Miss Wiggles couldn’t find the right words to say goodbye without it sounding like a lifetime sentence. All she could do was to watch Fynn silently follow the woman through the door, with her head down, clutching her rucksack.

  Once inside, Miss Snipworth quickly grabbed Fynn’s bag before she could react. “You won’t need this! We’ll have Mr. Herman lock it up. We provide everything you need. Besides, there isn’t room in the dormitory for unnecessary items.” She set it on the floor against the wall.

  Just then a couple young boys ran through the main entryway, yelling and playing boisterously. They stopped abruptly when they saw Miss Snipworth.

  “Boys,” she said crisply as her cheeks flushed with anger, “what are the rules?”

  With arms tucked at their sides, they lowered their heads and repeated simultaneously, “No running or yelling, Miss Snipworth.”

  “And what were you doing?”

  “Running and yelling, Miss Snipworth.”

  Miss Snipworth stared at the boys a moment longer and then said, “Outside you go.” She motioned with her finger for them to turn about. “Toodle loo.”

  Fynn took advantage of the diversion. She bent down to her bag, took out the box and tucked it under her jacket. She pressed her arm tight against her body to hold it in place. How am I going to keep it hidden in this place?

  “Yes, Miss Snipworth.” The boys turned and quietly walked out the back of the building.

  Miss Snipworth turned back to Fynn just as she finished stepping away from the bag. She glared at Fynn, and then at the bag resting on the floor. Then she turned on her heels, like a military officer, and said, “Come with me.” As she walked, she motioned to the right. “Boys’ dormitory is on that side. The boys eat, sleep and study on that side of the building. No girls are allowed. This side,” she motioned on the left, “is the girls’ dormitory. You will eat, sleep and study there. No boys are allowed. You may play together outside – that is all.”

  Her voice had a cold edge and Fynn remained silent. Miss Snipworth led her past the girls’ dining hall, past a couple offices, and then they stopped in front of some private bedrooms.

  “These two rooms are where your instructors sleep. This one is where the girls’ House Assistant sleeps.” Just then a girl, not more than 18 years old, appeared at the door. “Fynn, this is Eloise, your House Assistant.”

  Eloise smiled. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Hi,” said Fynn.

  Miss Snipworth nodded at the girl. “Eloise will finish showing you around.” Then she looked at Fynn. “Two things to remember here at Happy Days: obey the rules and be punctual at all times.” Then she gave a mechanical smile that never reached her eyes.

  Fynn watched Miss Snipworth’s face as she spoke. Her brown eyes, which pointedly blinked often, were dark and lifeless. When her lips weren’t used for talking, they were tightly pursed together. Her energy reeked of need-to-be-in-control vibes. Fynn wanted to shake off the vibes, like a wet dog shakes after swimming in a lake. Internally, she smiled at the mental picture that had formed in her mind.

  As she watched Miss Snipworth walk away, without realizing it, she found herself imitating that rigid expression. Sure thing, Snipwit. There were no ‘happy days’ in those stiff movements.

  Eloise’s soft spoken voice pulled Fynn’s attention back. “Come this way.”

  Eloise pointed out a small recreation room and two classrooms, each with an instructor and about twenty girls of various ages. The instructors looked to be the same age as Eloise.

  As they walked, Fynn realized the inside of the building was even bigger than it looked from outside. They passed the restroom, then turned a corner and entered a huge room.

  It had a high ceiling with dirty yellow walls that looked like they hadn’t been painted in thirty years. The room contained six rows, each with ten beds. At the foot of each bed, was a folded nightgown. It looked like a military barracks; the beds had metal frames with thin mattresses on top. They were made up with dark, gray blankets folded down near the pillow to reveal white sheets. Next to each bed was a square, metal table that held a small vase containing plastic flowers.

  Eloise walked over to one of the beds. “This is yours.” Then she pointed to a big white sign with bold, black lettering on the wall. “Those are the rules.”

  Fynn read.

  1. Wake promptly when the bell rings at 6:00 a.m.

  2. Beds are to be made before going to breakfast.

  3. During meals, talk with quiet voices.

  4. Outside play is only in the courtyard.

  5. Lights out at 9:00 p.m.

  6. No talking after lights out.

  7. NO BOYS IN THE GIRLS AREA. NO GIRLS IN THE BOYS AREA.

  Eloise saw the look on Fynn’s face. “It’s not so bad. You’ll get used to it.”

  An image suddenly formed in Fynn’s mind of Eloise as a timid, obedient orphan being raised there. I bet you’d get used to eating dog food if you were told to.

  “You were raised here, weren’t you?” she asked.

  Eloise smiled and nodded. “This is all I’ve known.”

  This is how my life is supposed to play out?!? Fynn suddenly felt sick and swallowed hard to keep the bile down.

  “Lunch is in an hour,” said Eloise. “You can rest in here or in the recreation room until the bell sounds. You must be in the dining hall by the second bell. After lunch you can rest some more since we won’t put you in the classroom until tomorrow. We like to give new residents some time to adjust but don’t go outside.”

  Fynn thought she saw Eloise raise her nose, as if giving her an afternoon to adjust to being yanked out of her home and thrown into this stale place was a grand gesture that she should appreciate. Having said that, Eloise got up and walked out.

  Fynn stood in place and looked at the sterile room. She shook her head in disbelief and then stepped over to her bed. She made sure that no one was standing near the entrance before slipping the box out from under her jacket.

  She looked underneath the bed but saw no options for hiding it. The floor was spotless, with a clear view from one side of the room to the other. There was no drawer in the metal table. She could put it under the mattress but was afraid the weight might crush the frail box and harm the contents. The more she looked around, there seemed to be only one option. Fortunately, the box was thin enough.

  She tucked the th
in box underneath the pillow and stood back to take a look. If someone was observant enough, it was slightly noticeable that Fynn’s pillow sat higher than all the others. For now, though, she had to leave it there. There wasn’t much choice.

  Chapter 6

  _______________________

  The girls’ sleeping quarters would have been deathly quiet to anyone else. To Fynn there was nothing but noise. The vibrations of forty other girls and their thoughts bouncing around made her head swirl. While they slept, she could hear their thoughts rattling around inside her head. Will I ever get a new mommy? I miss my dad. I wish we could see the boys more. That Billy sure is cute. Miss Snipworth is mean. She made me clean the toilets again. Will I ever live somewhere else?

  She took in deep breaths to calm herself. It was doubtful that sleep would come. She wanted to go outside and enjoy the quiet darkness, like she did at home. Home. Just two days ago she was home...with her mother. Now her mom was gone - forever. She wanted to cry, to scream out into the night at the unfairness of it all.

  She was about to lose it and needed to divert her attention so she slipped her hand under the pillow and pulled out the box. Her movements were slow and deliberate so as not to make a sound.

  The light in the hallway was left on for finding one’s way to the restroom at night. Unfortunately, it was more than Fynn cared for but, fortunately, it was enough to allow her to see the necklace and to read the poem.

  As she read, parts of it made sense – something about a mountain with a secret entrance, it would be hard to find unless one was sincere and humble. She still didn’t know what Wærs were but it sounded like there would be two calls...but for what? Whatever the call was for, apparently, it was best to take the first one. From the last paragraph it was evident one needed a guide...but to where? The mountain?

  She set the paper on her stomach and closed her eyes while giving it some thought. Her body tingled again and brought a surge of new energy. It was a wonderful feeling and gave her a sense of something awakening deep inside – something new but, at the same time, familiar.

  Suddenly, a noise startled her and she sat up. It sounded like the cry of an animal. She looked around the room but no one woke to the primal sound; they were all lying down. Again it came. It sounded like a cat...howling? It came again, and continued. One moment it was mournful singing and the next it was more like a cat talking. The words were long and drawn out.