OwenS1213

happy dog jump kill gills fish volume airplane peanuts potatoes chips never say never link jello fracture mean microwave sea horse perry the platypus run grandma crumbs papers sitting siencel stencil boss adam sandler andy sandberg the hannakah song christmas presents
 * storm**

The sun shining through the window when I woke. I rose from bed and walked to the window. I threw the window open and basked in the light. What a perfect day. As I looked down happy little town square, I saw the workers and crafters taking their daily route to their jobs. “Good morning Hollly!” called the baker. “Good morning Joe! How are you?” “Just great! In fact, I made an extra batch this morning for the mayor’s party, but overestimated. Here, catch!” he said as he tossed her the still warm muffin. “Thank you Joe!” “Anytime, now go get ready, you’ll be late for school!” I laughed lightheartedly and closed the window. I ran downstairs and walked into the kitchen where mother was making biscuits. Father was sitting at the table reading the newspaper and Jake and Paul were gathering their things for school. “Well there’s sleeping beauty! Good morning sweetheart!” mother greeted me. “Good morning everybody!” “I have to run darling, I love you” father told mother with a kiss. “Have a great day sweety,” he said to me with a kiss on the forehead. And it ended. I woke up and saw out the window, wishing the day that had been so perfect in my dream to be real. Of course it wouldn’t be. I shifted with caution, making sure not to wake Katie or Olive and wormed out of bed. I tiptoed silently to the window looking out, seeing the children go to school; some with smiles, some frowning. I knew many children didn’t like school. I loved it. Or I would have loved it if I were to go. I had ‘school’, that’s what the teachers called it. All the kids sat down on benches, and wrote down the words and the numbers on the board. Most days were absolutely silent. I always thought school would have recess and friends and projects and backpacks and books. But not here. That was an average day for a child. This was an average day for an orphan. No sun, no jolly baker throwing muffins, no books, no recess, no apple for the teacher, no happy parents, no happy anyone. I pressed my forehead against the window, closing my eyes. I never was leaving. Ever. The reality was, that to leave, I would need to somehow get parents. To get parents, I would need to get adopted. Or a time machine. To be perfectly honest: around her, the time machine was probably going to happen first. A time machine. That could fix a lot. That could change a lot to. To think, with just the push of a button, I could on my way to school with my friends right now instead of wishing my socks could insulate my very cold toes. I sighed, and stepped away from the window. Looking around the room, I saw Katie”s eyes begin to flutter, and Jenny and Marie started to stir as well. I figured if I wanted to make a graceful exit, now would be a nice time. I quickly walked across the room, opening the creaky door with care and shutting it behind me, feeling the rusty door handle click back into place. I would wake the others later, if they were not awake by the time I returned. I hated waking them up. I felt like I was interrupting their short time of peace and happiness. Sleeping was my favorite thing. It was the only time when I was happy. I hated when people woke me up and hated the look on the younger ones faces when I woke them up. So I did not wake my room up, but walked down the three flights of stairs to get to the kitchen. all the other doors in the orphanage were closed. They normally were. Even in the summertime, the building repels heat somehow, so we try to maximize the heat in the rooms we sleep in. As I made my way into the kitchen, I saw Denny: the skinny little dog that was our ‘class pet’. Basically, Denny was an orphan just like us. One day, we saw him sniffing through our trash and brought him in to give him our bread crusts and let him lick the bowls. Then he came back the next day, and the next, and eventually, he just stayed right there in the kitchen on night and has stayed there ever since. Poor Denny. He was a good, loyal dog. He could make any dog-lover very happy. But somehow, he ended up here. His owner died we think. He doesn’t look abused, but the owner must not have had any relative be willing to take a dog at the time. Poor thing. And that’s how the story goes, I guess. A good kid that bad things happen to. None of us were delinquents or anything like that. Mostly, our parents died in a car crash or boat sinking or shooting. And then we come here. Some of us are separated form siblings. Not sisters, like Katie and Olive, but I was separated from my two brothers Paul and Jake. I saw them every once in a while, but i never feel like I have siblings. They feel more like the distant cousins you know exist but never talk to. My closest ‘family’ right now is my room. Katie and Olive are nine year old twins. Then there’s Jenny who it ten. She doesn’t remember if she had any siblings; if she did they died in the car crash with her parents. Also there’s Marie whose brother is in the same orphanage as my brothers. She’s seven. There’s also Amy, who has no siblings and is 16 years old. And lastly there’s me. I’m Holly. I’m 13 years old. I have two brothers. We each have a job. Amy’s job is to make sure we all are in order and are never to crazy. She’s our mom. My job is to wake everyone up (Amy likes to sleep in) and do Amy’s job when she goes off with the older kids. Jenny’s job is to make sure we all get our laundry in on time and keep the room clean. Olive gets everyones plates and Katie gets everyones drinks. And Marie makes sure we always do it with a smile on our face. I bent down to scratch Denny as a usually do but he scurried away. I tried again. Once more he shied away. Finally I decided to let him out, that normally made him feel better. So I opened the door and to my embarrassment, the children on their way to school were crossing right in front of the orphanage door. I stood there like a deer in headlights as they peered in when suddenly, Denny scurried out between my legs. I went after him. He went straight through the children as did I. They retreated in astonishment. I realized as I was bolting after Denny, that this was the first time in nine years I had been outside unsupervised, other than the occasional trash duty and such. I felt the freedom lighten me almost instantly. I ran through the streets and ran around the carts. I was running more than I had run in years. I felt my legs stretch and muscles release. I looked down and relised I had lost Denny. But Denny was a good dog, he could find his way home. Meanwhile, I was free! I walked behind a group of children on their way to school. Once they reached school I walked to the window and peered in. I saw a woman, I’m assuming was the teacher, putting a piece of paper on every desk. There was a man in the room. He stood up said a few words to her and they kissed. The kiss lasted longer and was more energized than the kiss in my dream. The man left. I looked at the woman’s face again. I recognized her. I was impossible. I had never seen anyone outside the orphanage. I thought of the women I knew. It couldn’t be. In a distant memory, I remember a voice singing me to sleep. I put a face with that memory and it was her face. It was my mother. My mother was dead. It could not be my mother. Yet she looked exactly like what my mothers would have looked like. She looked like me and my brothers all in one. But that was not my father. Suddenly she glanced up and realized she was being watched. She gasped and then looked at me more clearly. Her eyes widened with shame. I backed away from the window and walked blindly away from the building. She was not wearing a ring. She had not re-married but had forgotten about my father. I heard a noise from the building behind me. I turned around and saw her bursting out of the school. She looked at me with despair which soon turned to horror. I heard someone yelling something. I turned. I had enough time to see the horrified look of the driver before the bus hit me.