Eternity, Page 2

  ***

  The next day came quickly enough, and I was glad it was the weekend, even though I didn't get to spend it with my best friend. At least I could go to the library without listening to him complain. I smiled at the thought.

  I didn't end up spending a lot of time there. I went late in the morning, and found several interesting-looking books almost immediately. Once my arms were full, there was no point in hanging around. It was almost time for lunch, which was only available at Pembrook at a specific time, and I didn't have the money to eat out. I caught a bus back.

  When I got to my room, I was careful to put the books away under my bed, which was a bottom bunk. I didn't want any of my five roommates to touch them, not that they had any interest in reading. I then selected one and curled up in my favourite chair near the window.

  Two of my roommates, Jill and Stephanie, sat in another corner of the room, gossiping about George, the newest arrival at Pembrook. There were rumours that he'd set his last foster home on fire, though I didn't believe that. They didn't care about that, however. They just thought he was cute.

  I was used to their nearly constant chatter, so I blocked it out and read my book. It was an encyclopaedia that went from Jo to Lu. I was sure Jack would have cringed to see me reading such a thing, but I found the section about kings quite interesting. Soon I was lost in a world of ancient wars and bloodlines.

  A knock at the door startled me. I looked up and saw Mr. Andrews peeking his head in. He was the maintenance man, but since help was short at Pembrook he had other odd jobs as well, including distributing the mail. I saw a bundle of envelopes in his hand as he shuffled slowly into the room. I waved, and he smiled at me. I had always liked Mr. Andrews, since he had a quiet and peaceful nature, but many of the other kids were afraid of him or just didn't like him. I didn't think that was fair, since their only reason was the scars that marred the skin on his arms and the left side of his face, which were the result of a childhood trauma.

  Mr. Andrews went over to Stephanie and Jill, and handed an envelope to the former. Stephanie often got letters from her brother, who was with a foster family somewhere in Montana. She squealed in delight and started ripping the letter open, and I turned back to my book.

  A shadow fell over me, and I looked up to see Mr. Andrews standing there, holding out an envelope.

  "There's a letter for you, Miss," he said.

  I looked at it sceptically, and then looked back up at him. "For me? Are you sure?" I had never gotten mail before of any kind because I had no living relatives and no friends out in the world other than Jack.

  Mr. Andrews smiled and placed the letter beside me on my bed, since I had made no move to grab it from him. "I'm quite sure, Miss. It says Juliet White on it. You're the only one with that name here." He smiled kindly and left the room, leaving me with my mysterious letter.

  It was a large white envelope, and the writing on the outside was dark green and embossed, which made it look quite professional. It was definitely my name in the address. I wondered briefly if it was some kind of joke, but I was too curious to care.

  Just as I reached to open the letter, I caught sight of Stephanie and Jill in their corner, watching me. They had never seen me get mail before either, and were looking at me curiously.

  I got up quickly and left the room, taking the envelope with me. I didn't like the thought of opening it with them watching me, since the letter felt somehow private. I went downstairs and walked through the house. I passed the playroom, where Ms. Holland was trying to gain control over a hoard of young children. The noise was loud, but I was used to it.

  As I went by the kitchen I remembered Jack, and had a sudden urge to tell him about the letter. If there was one person I could share it with, it would be him. I was about to go through the door when he walked out, and almost bumped right into me. He jumped back in surprise and grinned. He had a smudge of flour on his cheek, and there were wet spots on his shirt from washing dishes.

  "Hey, you got one too!" he said, waving an envelope in my face. It had dark green embossed writing, just like mine. "I was coming to find you."

  "It's interesting that we both got them. Do you think anyone else did too? Stephanie and Jill didn't."

  "I don't know. There were only a couple of others in the kitchen, and they didn't get any mail. Want to open them together?"

  "Of course, but let's go somewhere private. I don't want anyone else to see." We both knew that somewhere private excluded pretty much everywhere in the building, so we started heading outside.

  "George was in the kitchen today. That guy really creeps me out. Did you hear that he almost burnt down a house?"

  I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I heard. It's probably not even true. Remember the time when Joe said he killed his stepmother when she really just went to rehab? He was just looking for attention."

  "True. That was different, though. Everyone knew Joe liked to tell stories. George is really quiet and mean-looking, though."

  "I'm sure the truth will come out sooner or later."

  We stepped outside. The backyard was fenced in but large. We had to dodge some kids playing soccer, and then we made our way to the far corner where a giant oak tree stood. It threatened to knock the fence over if it grew any wider, but it had not yet succeeded. The tree had long been a favourite spot of ours, and we each had favourite roots to sit on that had our initials carved into them. That was where we sat.

  "Do you want to go first?" I asked. I already had ideas floating around in my head about what was in the envelopes, and they were making my heart pound. I wasn't sure if it was fear or excitement that made that happen.

  "No, you go first," Jack said. I could tell he was nervous, and probably hoped that the letters were a way out of Pembrook Home. It was a hope that I shared.

  I didn't argue, and opened mine first. There were several sheets of paper inside, and something else at the bottom. I turned the envelope upside down and dumped the contents into my lap. The last thing that fell out interested us both the most.

  "Is that a plane ticket?" Jack asked. It was. I looked at it carefully.

  "Munich? Why would I go to Munich?" I wondered out loud, and I was getting excited. I shuffled through the papers on my lap, and found something else that interested me. It was a passport. The picture was my school photo from earlier that year.

  Jack started to open his envelope then since he couldn't contain his excitement. He pulled out a plane ticket for the same flight as mine, and his passport. Then we read our letters for a few minutes in silence. I could see that Jack was getting less excited.

  "A school? I was hoping for something far more interesting than that," he complained. He was the kind of person who preferred to be outdoors as opposed to sitting in a classroom listening to a teacher repeatedly telling people to stop talking. I liked school, but only because I liked to learn.

  "It sounds interesting to me," I said. "It's a boarding school, so we won't have to live here anymore, and we get to go to Germany. What were you expecting that could be better than that?"

  "I don't know," Jack grumbled. "Something that doesn't involve schoolwork. Not everyone likes studying as much as you do. Private schools are supposed to be way harder than public schools."

  "Who cares? It's in Germany!"

  "True..." Jack said. I could tell he was considering it.

  That was how we both ended up on a flight to Munich on August 30th. Pembrook had also received a letter, telling them that we had both been invited to attend school in Germany, and we had somehow both become emancipated. With the cost of our travel already covered and no tuition to pay for, Pembrook was eager to get rid of us to make room for more homeless children and teenagers. We were quite glad to be leaving anyway, and excited to be going somewhere new for the first time.