Chapter Three
Daughtry twined his fingers around mine and led me deeper into West-End. The yellows hues of the walls began to overpower the white. Crumbling spots began appearing more often. Whenever I licked my lips, I tasted the scent of stale crackers and sawdust lingering in the air.
“You're gonna love it here, Leo.” He looked back at me and smiled. “We have lot's of things here that other orphanages don't. You know we have an entire library? Now, it's nothing compared to the Capital's library--but for an orphanage? It's really quite a sight.... Do you like reading at all?”
I swallowed. “Y-yeah.”
“Oh, you do, huh? What a lucky guess. I'm sure you'll find all sorts of cool things in the library then. Oh! Here is the cafeteria.”
There was something about Daughtry's relaxed manner of speaking that put me at ease. He sounded a bit like a kid, but a smart, protective one. When Mrs. Shire had been there, it'd been all business, but now it was as if his excitement about West-End were a curse he was committed I catch.
Shortly after passing the cafeteria, the hallway split into two directions. He led me to the right.
“The library is down there. You can explore that in your free-time, though. Right now I'm going to take you to the 'Bunker.'”
“...The Bunker?”
“Yes, yes. Don't worry, it's nothing bad. It's just the name the kids came up for the bunks—the place you all sleep. That's where most of the kids spend their time when they're inside, too. Are you excited?”
Where we all sleep? I thought. We all sleep together...?
I'd known it was possible I'd end up sleeping in a room filled with other kids, but that had been one of the least pleasant thoughts. The sort I'd actively tried to keep from my mind.
Toward the end of the hallway small groups of human kids sat leaned up against the walls. The closer we got, the more heads that turned toward us.
“Hey, don't worry so much.” His grip on my hand tightened. “You're gonna love 'em.”
The closer we got, the better I could decipher their expressions. I'd been wrong in my belief that they were looking at us—they were definitely only looking at me.
Some eyebrows rose in confusion, while others went forward with the squinting of their eyes. The worst were the ones that remained still, disinterested yet contemptuous, like they were looking at a wandering insect.
Heads turned sideways to whisper to other heads, but the eyes always stayed on me. Some of the whispering I could discern. Whispers of confusion, and for some, disgust.
Daughtry dragged me past them, forcing me to step over and between their legs with terrifying pace. I pictured what would happen if I stepped on somebody's foot by mistake. A flurry of semi-connected images ran through my head, more like panels than cohesive ideas. There were sneers, threats, and laughter, and a few glimpses of a foot suddenly sliding out in front of mine, and my body toppling to the ground.
I swallowed.
The hallway terminated into a dead-end. A few moments before reaching it, I noticed an opening in the wall, about the size of a double-door. There were hinges on the walls, but they were decrepit and long broken.
We turned into the opening.
A sharp current of warm, musky air flooded into my lungs. All the tension that had been creeping up through our walk plowed into me, like a brick colliding with my chest. The room made me feel uncomfortable in my own body, and eerily distraught with my own mind. I felt as if I'd walked into a different world.
The walls were the same white-yellow, and the windows were preferable to the ones in the hallway—now closer to the ground and capable of being opened. The aroma of stale crackers and sawdust remained, but had lost the tinge of an unoccupied building, and in place had taken over the bouquet of young stench.
Beds lined the walls, leaving a wide, empty area in the center. The covers were all the same; the sheets off-white and the thin, scratchy looking blankets on top a deep shade of blue. The bed frames looked cheap and hollow, as if they would creak loudly with every movement.
The room bustled with human boys, in groups, and others still in bed with their pillows pulled over their heads. A few kids sat alone, some on the outskirts, some sitting near groups, but not daring to claim a spot within them.
Just like in the hallway, a plethora of white, human faces looked up to meet me. The first few regarded my frame with astonishment, and this had prompted the remaining bulk of the room to snap to attention the way dominoes fall in a line, each with their own sort of astonishment.
Daughtry led me to the middle of the room, undaunted by the sudden silence.
“Alright, boys. I've got some good news for you.”
Various hushed comments reached my ears, such as religious exclamations like “Great Gaol!”, and some other, less than happy comments. My favorite was the 'are you serious?' that had come from somewhere in the back; as if my presence there was not only a surprise, but an affront.
Daughtry continued. “As of today, you boys've got a new Brother. As you can all see, he is like Joseph, so I take that they will become fast friends.”
Some snickering and too-hushed-to-hear commentary swept through the room, but quickly died down.
“I'd like for you all to treat our new Brother with respect. The same respect you would show anyone at West-End; the same respect you would show me; the same respect you would show your family. Because that is precisely what we are, and that's what he now is to you. A Blood Brother.”
I shuddered. I couldn't pinpoint what about his words sounded so sickening, but I had the instinctive feeling they were utterly untrue.
He looked down at me. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”
I swallowed so hard I worried for a moment my tongue would slide down my throat. I forced my head in his direction, and then I shook it back and forth. I hear more snickering, and a few mumbled whispers at my expense.
However, Daughtry seemed to understand, and instead cut the laughing off by looking up and continuing on.
“His name is Leonidas. As you can all tell, he is still very young—the youngest boy here. I expect you all to take good care of him and make sure he is comfortable. I know all you won't let me down.”
Ending his speech sooner than I'd have liked, Daughtry led me over to a bed occupied by a small group of young, lazy-eyed paupers, one sitting cross-legged on the floor, one leaning against the wall, another sitting at the foot of the bed, and the last extended out on the bed, his shoes scuffing the blanket.
“Alright, guys. Outta the way. This is Leo's bed now.” Daughtry's words came out smoothly, completely lacking in effort or authority or fear. I couldn't tell if I liked the effortlessness or not. Something about it seemed unnatural.
Their expressions had been heavy, misery-laden scowls that screamed of injustice by the forces of life itself, but somehow when their attention went from Daughtry to me, they hardened.
The boys got up without a word, but said more with their looks than they could have ever said with their tongues.
Daughtry guided me to the bed and sat me down. He told me if I needed anything to come see him. He suggested that I go and try to make some friends—this he suggested with a barely perceptible aura of urgency, as if something of importance depended on it. He told me again about the cafeteria hours and that the library is always open. And then he was gone.
If my regaling of his departure makes it seem hasty, then that is because it was. Or at least, sitting there with an ocean of eyes gazing at me, it felt that way.
I sat on the bed with my legs close together and my hands on my lap. My feet didn't reach the ground, but I didn't swing them this time. The urge to shed immediate tears had passed, but my gut occasionally lurched up into my chest and I had to stop it from rising to my throat and turning into sobs.
I expended every effort to put on an expression that seemed aloof, but not too aloof. To make everyone know how indifferent I was, but casually indifferent, as if no effort was needed on my part at all. Indifference to the stares and the jeers, which increased in volume with each passing moment. The comments on my name, and the comments on my species. I wanted them to see how little I cared that I had essentially been put on display in the center of a town, of who's primary export is tomato; and I had been labeled with a great sign pointing to me saying 'CRIMINAL.'
Feet in shabby shoes clicked toward me. A shadow fell on the floor, darkening the spot I'd stared at since being left. I looked up, and found the same kids I'd seen earlier, the ones who'd been kicked off my bed.
“Hello.” The shortest one among them spoke first. The one who had been stretched out on my bed, who had apologetically scuffed my blanket.
“H-Hi.”
His lips pulled into a smile and he closed his eyes for a moment, as if contemplating something. “What was your name again...?” He squinted at me. “Oh yeah. It was... Leosnidas, right? Weird name.”
Without waiting for an invitation, he sat down next to me, close enough so that I could feel the warmth of his hip against my tail.
“Um, n-no ac-actually i-it's Leonidas.”
“Hmm? That's what I said: Leosnidas. That's your name, right? It's Leosnidas?”
His friends moved in closer, the second shortest of them—the one who had been sitting on the floor cross-legged moved to my opposite side, completing a semi-circle around me.
I swallowed. “O-Oh, i-i-it's just that, you're, you're saying it wrong... kinda. It's Leonidas. Not L-Leosnidas.”
“Oh!” He said, suddenly chuckling about something with his friends. “Is it now...? Y'know, I should really apologize. With a name like that, you must be nobility or something.”
“Oh, n-no, I'm not nobi-!”
“-No, no! ...It's cool. I wouldn't want to offend someone like you. Someone who thinks he's the son of a king or something.”
“You mean a prince?” The second shortest boy with the pale brown eyes chimed in. Silence hung for a moment. The blond-haired boy turned to look at him, squinting hard.
“I know what a fucking prince is, Lucky.”
The two taller boys laughed. Lucky looked frozen to the spot, but his face hardly reacted. My gaze shifted down toward my feet, and I pondered whether Mrs. Shire's trick applied when still.
“Anyway,” the blond-haired boy turned back to me. “I just wanted to tell you that I love your tail.”
My head inched upward in surprise. The moment I realized he had complimented me, I felt the tip of my tail softly flick in reply. He noticed the motion and replied to it.
“Oh yeah. It's great. Don't you love his tail, boys?”
The second tallest boy with the scraggly red hair grinned. “Yeah, it looks like a wild one.”
“Oh, yeah,” the blond-haired boy replied. “A very wild one. About as wild as they come.”
The tallest boy, with the broad body and the open, unimposing expression scoffed out of nowhere. “An what're you gittin' at Blon? Talkin' about the boy's tail....”
“You don't think it's a nice tail, Buddy?” Blon turned toward him. “I think it's great. Just look at it-”
In one motion Blon turned back to face me, and in one swipe he seized my tail with a hard grip.
I inhaled sharply and nearly jumped off the bed. “Ow! Ow! Ow!”
“See? Look at it. It's got the white at the tip and everything. It's cute, itn't? Just like some fresh sweet cream.”
“Please!” I begged, my hands hovering in air, the fingers writhing and flexing in discomfort. “Please...!”
Blon looked over at me in confusion. “Please what? What are you saying 'please' for? ...Can't you speak properly?”
The boy with the red hair laughed. Lucky smiled.
“Please stop... hurting me!” Tears started to well up in my eyes; the same tears I'd been desperately holding back for so long.
“Stop hurting you? By Gaol, I'd never do something like that! I'm just showing your tail off to my friends.... You don't mind, right?”
“I-”
“-Naaaaah. You don't mind. See guys. Isn't it nice?” Every time he emphasized a word, he squeezed down extra tight, sending what felt like a lightening bolt of pain through my body.
“Puh-puh-please...!” The word came out as a nasally, miserable sounding sob. The last thing I wanted all these large, imposing bodies to hear from me on my first day at West-End.
Blon scoffed and threw my tail against my leg. “Gosh, I guess I have to since you're gonna be such a selfish baby about it.”
I whipped my tail to the other side of my body and clutched it in my hands. Staring intently at the point he'd squeezed. I pulled my body in as close as I could, like a ball.
“Good Gaol.” Buddy shook his head as he watched the scene transpire. “You're a damn animal, Blon.”
“I don't think I'm the animal here.” Blon replied, laughing.
The red-haired boy cackled, and Lucky laughed a moment later.
“You like that, Ant?” (He spoke to the red-haired boy). “Then you're gonna love this.”
Blon's hand began to slowly veer into my field of vision. It took me a moment, but once I realized he was reaching across my lap to grab my tail again, I scooted away from him. He scooted with me and kept reaching.
When we reached the wall, I pressed myself as tightly against it as I could, and covered as much of my exposed tail as possible with my hands. His hand kept coming, slowly, painfully deliberately. He was inches away when he paused, and after a few moments of stillness, his hand reached up and patted my cheek.
Each tap made me lurch. When he finally pulled away, sobs slipped from my throat—hoarse, stifled, sobs.
“Jeez, what a baby.” Blon said. “That bothered by just a little touch to the cheek.”
“Y-You know, there's only one reason he'd be that bothered by something like that,” Lucky spoke up. Ant and Buddy turned to look at him, but Blon kept his eyes on me. “He, uh, he must be a stag....” Lucky went on. |You know, all... sneaky about it.”
The small area went silent, all except for the sound of my sniffling. Blon half-scoffed half chuckled.
“Yeah,” Blond said smoothly. “That would explain it, wouldn't it? I've heard stags can be really paranoid about touching, cause they never know when they're getting turned on.”
Wait, what, I thought. What is he....?
“Ha, ha, ha!” Ant boomed with laughter. “The cat's a damn stag!”
Buddy rubbed his face in exasperation.
“Y-yeah,” Lucky chuckled. “He's probably been gettin' off this entire time.”
“I knew he was a loser the moment I laid eyes on him, but I didn't know he was a stag, too.” Blon's lips curled into a frown. “Ugh! And to think I touched the little bait's tail!”
“I hope you don't catch the stag.” Ant chimed in. “I hear it's contagious.”
“I'm not too worried. I hear there's a cure for stag. At least for the contagious stuff.”
“Oh yeah?” Ant's lips curled into a smile.
“Yeah,” Blon leaned toward my ears. “You just beat the little bastard who gave it to you half to death and it goes away.”
“Is that so?” Ant said, laughing.
“Alright, Blon, that's enough teasing the lil' thing. This is pretty bad even for you.” Buddy interjected.
“Bssh, don't tell me when enough is enough, Buddy. I'm doing this entire orphanage a damn favor. Make sure this little pussy knows his place.... You hear that, Leosnidus? We didn't need a little brat around here, least of all another...” He looked me up and down with disgust. “Fen.”
Blon had some more choice words for me, some of which he said closer to my ears than I'd have liked, but at that point, they all became one long, dull string. There was no more definition; just the understanding that the words hurt.
When he finally stopped insulting me, they walked away and headed to the other side of the room. After a few moments of sitting at the edge of my bed, too scared to move, I slipped into a lying position and curled up. I pulled my robes up to my face and sobbed.
