Chapter 10: Chapter 5
My eyes flew open to reveal the same ceiling that I had been slumbering under for the past thirteen years. My body was laying in a puddle of cold sweat. I was getting nightmares again. This time, like all the other times, it was of my grandfather. I clutched the pendant on the chain around my neck. I still vividly remember the day that my grandfather was killed. I could still hear the sirens wailing in the rain. I could still feel the large drops of rain assailing my body and my grandfathers with no mercy in mind. I could see the sight of my grandfather's smile. I shuddered; I wish I could forget that smile. I wish I could forsake all that has happened in the last thirteen years.
*Beep* *Beep* *Beep*
The digital alarm clock rang in my ears. I tilted my head to peek at it with my peripheral vision. It was four-fifteen. Time to get up.
I slapped the alarm clock with annoyance. I took off my drenched t-shirt to reveal light-brown skin that was full of flea bites and red rashes. I looked at myself in the cracked mirror. I was of average height for my age. Near five-nine. But, I had a body that nobody in a million years would wish for. It was all haggard, and I was all skin and bones. I reeked of body odor and urine. My once sharp, and bright green eyes faded by a shade. They were dull as if a layer of smoke covered them.
I lived in an orphanage now. One that received cheap funds, and low-quality social workers. After my grandfather died, they asked me questions like: 'Do you have a parent?' and 'Would you like to call someone you know?'. I tried to answer, but my tongue was tied and my mind was blank. So, they dumped in one of the worst orphanages in the outer sector of Arior. It was surrounded by heaping mounds of trash of all varieties. Metal, plastic, dead batteries, and fecal matter. During the summers the smell would be unbearable for newcomers. But for people like me, it was nonexistent. I just became used to it. In the winters, the smell would disperse elsewhere, but the cold would lead many orphans to develop frostbite or even worse: hypothermia. The social workers couldn't give a damn whether kids like us died. They stuffed their pockets full of the meager cash that was sent our way. The funds were barely enough to feed us three meals a day, much less satisfy their evergreen greed.
But, I, like many of the other children here, have grown numb to such treatment. Every insult we hear, every punishment we must bear amounted to no significant value. After all, what was the point of dumping trash on existing trash?
I threw on some ragged old clothes and continued my morning routine. I brushed my teeth and wiped myself down with already used cleansing wipes. It didn't do much for my hygiene, but It least made me feel human. I, then, stumbled downstairs. The steps were made of concrete, so they were rough against my feet. Over the years, the undersides of my feet erected callouses. And so did my palms and the undersides of my fingers. As I said, everything grew numb or blunt.
I heated up a pot of boiling water with the fire I made with the sparks of the flint and steel. I chuckled to myself, they couldn't even afford to give us a meager lighter? Cutting carefully, I chopped the half-rotten vegetables until only the parts without the rot arose. The pile of carrots, potatoes, beans, and beets was all reduced to one-fifth of the original volume. There was meat in the broken-down fridge, but there was something green growing on it, so I decided not to use it. I took the meat out of the fridge and threw it outside the shattered window. Might as well use the free trash service, right?
The water came to a boil, and I added in the vegetables that I cut up earlier. Several minutes later the aroma of meaty potatoes and the sweet fragrance of the carrots filled the lack-luster orphanage. It was a very small orphanage- only two floors and three rooms on the second floor- so the aroma dispersed into every nook and cranny. Three figures popped out behind the stairwell. All three of them were boys with similar statures but with varying age gaps. Shawn Yu was the first to arrive. He was Asian. I'm not sure which ancient ethnicity, but he seemed to be a mix of many. He was twelve years old but acted more mature for his age than others. Next was Marco. He was only five years old with ambitions of becoming a government official and making it all the way to the inner sector. He reminds us of his promise of taking us with him if he ever makes it. We all laugh at him quietly not wanting to crush his dreams and innocence. He had light brown skin like me though he had some Ancient Latin-American blood in him. Big eyes, a button-like nose, and a circular and plump face topped with black hair. Real cute.
Finally, Eric entered the room. He had white-European features. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a strong nose. He had the biggest appetite out of all of us because he was fourteen and still growing. In comparison, I am fifteen, but I don't eat as much. Eric chose his own last name after I told him about a bird I saved when I was with my Grandpa beyond the mountains. He loved the way that the birds- he's never seen one, the dome doesn't let animals pass as they could be subject to zoonotic diseases- fly so freely in the sky without the shackles of gravity bearing down on them. Pretty generic if you ask me, but it gave him some hope and that was enough. There isn't much hope to go around these days.
Eric has also been doing extra menial tasks around the outer sector to earn some extra cash. He then gives it to me, and I account for all the expenditures, allowances, and emergencies. I'm good with numbers. I hide the money in a myriad of places in case the corrupt social workers ever walk in and demand it. I also help with earning more money, but I do it occasionally since I have to take care of Marco and Shawn. Our plan is to save enough money to move to the middle sector when I'm eighteen. That way, I can adopt Marco and take him under my care. Then, when I take a year to settle down and find a good place to stay, Eric will turn eighteen as well. Then, he comes over and stays with me while taking in Shawn. That's the plan.
Marco ran into the kitchen and said, "Vince! Are we going to have stew again?!" Marco liked to call me 'Vince' because my nickname rolled off my tongue a lot easier for him. He looked up at me with wide and exasperated eyes. We'd been eating the same stew for the past month. Everyone was tired of it, but Marco had the pugnacious nature of telling me outright.
I softened my stern look and smiled at him, "You shouldn't be discouraging the cook that puts food in your belly, you know?" He seemed dissatisfied with the answer. I pointed my finger to the wall behind us, "You see that mound of vegetables? As long as that mountain of food is there, there is no need to switch our diets. And don't even think about tossing it out of the window." Marco sheepishly grinned.
I continued to stir the stew and opened one of the cabinets. I brought down four wooden bowls and arranged them near the stove.
Eric spoke up, "Vincent, I won't be needing any food today. I got a job at this bakery. All I do is run small errands for them, but they are willing to feed me!"
I turned to look at him. I placed one of the bowls back, and said, "Well, that's great! Just make sure you eat your fill, okay?"
Eric looked up at me, and said, "Ok." He then proceeded to leave the room. We all heard the door shut.
"Okay, who wants more stew?" I questioned. Shawn Yu and Marco both raised their hands.
Shawn spoke first, "I need the extra stew; I got myself a small job selling stuff to people. We can make even more money, now that I'm also working!"
I was surprised. When did he get a job? "Okay, but be careful when you're selling to certain people. You never know what type of person they might be."
"Okay," he responded.
I spoke once more, "Okay, Shawn gets the extra portion."
Marco started to lament, "But, why?" He slurred the words together making them hardly recognizable.
"You can have some of mine."
"Ok!"
With that, I distributed the stew to the family. All of us gratefully slurped down the broth and savored the chunks of vegetables in our mouths. After we finished, Shawn said his goodbyes and made his way out. I gave Marco a book that I made from scrap paper. I told to him to go and practice his numbers by writing them from one to a thousand. He whined, but he did as he was told. Now, that left me with some free time before I had to make the next meal.
I spent my time recounting the money that we saved up so far. Most of the outer sector did not use banks to keep their credits because the income was far too low. Most people exchanged material goods in order for services, or paper money. The paper money wasn't actually made of paper, rather they were made out of plastic microfibers. They felt like paper, but they wouldn't get wet or burn that easily. I gathered all the money we had hidden and set it out on a wooden table. I started to count. Five...ten...fifteen...one thirty-six...seven twenty-nine...one thousand three hundred sixty-four. We had saved, over the course of seven years, one thousand three hundred and sixty-four credits. This wasn't nearly enough for what we wanted to do in the future. Per year, we make one hundred and ninety-four credits. We needed at least fifty-thousand credits to find somewhere to live in the middle sector. I slapped my forehead. 'How were we going to make up the difference?' 'How?'
I redistributed the money to the various hiding spots and walked in on Marco. He was lying on the floor sleeping. I looked at his book, and I was surprised when I saw that he had finished all the numbers. 'Next time, I'll teach him multiplication' I chuckled. I leaned closer to him and scooped him up. I carried him upstairs and placed him on his uneven bed. I grabbed a blanket and draped it over him. Once I saw that he was still sleeping soundly, I silently walked downstairs and practiced my own education. I knew that I wouldn't make it to the inner sector, but it didn't hurt to try and have an education. This would greatly help me find at least a part-time job in the middle sector. Especially since I am good with numbers.
I practiced my arithmetic until the sun bent a little below the horizon. I strolled outside with a couple of credits in my pocket. I went to the nearest meat market and asked the butcher I knew personally for a cut that he didn't need. He gladly gave it to me without charge. I held out the credits for him to take, but he still insisted that I take it for free. With a smile, I walk out of the stall and place the credits due below the slabs of meat that the butcher put out for display. I don't take anything for free.
I went back home and started to boil the water inside the pot. I chopped the vegetables like always and braised the cuts of pork on another pan. I then added the meat into the broth of the stew to give a better flavor.
The aroma seemed to reach Marco because he came down with a smile on his face. "Vince! Did you buy some meat today?!" he asked gleefully. I simply smiled at him.
Someone knocked on the door. I told Marco to stay put, and I made my way to the door. I looked through the peephole and I saw Shawn and Eric baskets full of bread. I opened the door and let them in.
"Where did you guys get so much bread?"
Eric let out a large, resounding laugh, "Guess what?! The bakery decided to give me their stale and expired bread when I explained to them our situation! Such kind people!"
I looked at him with annoyance, "Didn't I tell you not to explain our situation to other people! They didn't do it out of kindness, Eric. They did it out of pity!"
Shawn saw the tensions rising, "Vincent, it's okay! The people didn't seem to mind, and they were really nice about it. They even let me try one of their donuts!"
I sighed, "Okay, for this once. But, tomorrow I will go to them and scrutinize them myself. If they feel shady- giving out all of this bread and all-you have to promise to quit. Understand?"
Eric responded, "Understood."
They all came in. Marco was overjoyed to see all the bread and butter that they had brought. He told them about the meat that I bought, and both of them eyed me as a hypocrite. "At least, I paid for the meat," I retaliated.
We all sat down. One small family slurping on soup and munching on the bread. It was warm in the house. Not because of the temperature, but because of the intrinsic feeling of home.
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