"Sorry guys. I need to go somewhere today.'
Making an apologetic gesture to both Frank and Linel, I bolted out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang and blended into the crowd before they could even process my words.
Last night, after Oliver had said those lines, I froze in front of my door. A warm feeling of hope and excitement rose within my chest as I nodded my head at him. And Oliver, upon seeing my starry eyes, gave a small, amused smile and shook his head gently.
"The meeting point is near the old cemetery. We're going to meet the guy who delivered the research papers last time, and he's going to accompany us to Top Bottom Street."
Turning around, Oliver picked up his towel and clothes from the bookshelf. Hearing his words, I nodded my head, even though he couldn't see me, and replied with an 'ok'. After that, the conversation was over. The two of us bathed and went to sleep in silence.
Running as fast as my short legs could take me, I turned right the moment I got out of the school building until I reached the crosswalk near Frank's house, then turned left and followed the road down until I saw the old cemetery. And waiting patiently in front of the cemetery, his notebook in hand, was Oliver.
Alerted by my footsteps loudly beating against the ground as I approached him, Oliver smoothly closed his notebook and stuffed it into his pants as he turned to face me. Then, as I stopped in front of him with a red face, my lungs burning as I vacuumed in oxygen through my mouth, he gestured for me to follow him and started walking further 'down' the cemetery.
Breathing hard, I slowly followed after Oliver. The two of us walked straight, following the fence of the old cemetery until the end. And at the end, waiting for us was a man dressed in a worn-out jacket and baggy jeans. A scratched-up cap cast a shadow on his face, making it hard to figure out who he was.
"Jack."
Reaching the man, Oliver called out to him. Hearing his name, the man turned to us and reached up to his cap, slightly tipping it as a greeting sign before gesturing for us to follow him.
We left the cemetery area behind, heading further down, past the road that led to our apartment, and into Top Bottom street. Like the previous time we had been here, the streets were filled with people tenaciously clinging on to life. This time, instead of passing by these people, we joined them and started heading left, away from the Top Bottom Market and towards the long line of houses that kept us safe from the forest beyond.
Once we entered Top Bottom street, the delivery man stopped walking in front of us. Instead, he shortened his stride to keep up with us. Slotting himself between Oliver and me, the delivery man took his hand away from the brim of his hat and stretched it out towards me.
When I looked up at him, I could finally see his face underneath the cap. It was a vaguely familiar face. I had seen this face in Middle Middle Market, selling wares to customers with a wide smile on his face. I had seen this face during the faction meeting; the smile was gone, but his eyes still burned with plans to help spread the word about the 'defense theory'. But now, the fire in his eyes didn't burn, and his lips didn't arch into a fake smile. The face in front of me now held a gloomy sort of tiredness, one that screamed his distaste and tiredness as the world forced problem after problem upon him. Right until just before the breaking point.
Slipping his hand into mine, Jack tightened his grip and led us to an old, dilapidated building. Well, one of the many old and dilapidated buildings. This building was tall—a whole two stories high compared to its neighboring half-story-tall caved-in pile of rubble. Within those dusty walls, the voices of children punched holes in the musty atmosphere.
"Nan!"
As we opened the dirty, spotty, and slightly rusty metal door, a childish shout burst our eardrums as a stampede of footsteps came running from somewhere on the left.
I felt my hand get squeezed by Jack the moment we heard the noise, and before I knew it, Oliver and I found ourselves behind a tall and sturdy back as the footsteps suddenly stopped.
"....Who are you?"
A cold voice snarled at us from beyond the sturdy back, and I stuck my head out from the sides to see a group of children glaring at Jack.
"Arthur?'
Entering from the right, a handsome-looking middle-aged woman with several wrinkles on her face and near-white hair wiped her hands on her pants as she shot a questioning gaze toward the group of children. Then, the moment she noticed our small group of three, enlightenment shone in her eyes, and she gestured for the children to scurry away.
"Good afternoon, esteemed sir. For what reason have you decided to visit this humble orphanage?"
Putting on a sparkling fake smile, the woman gestured for us to follow her to the room on the right. In response to this, Jack shook his head and shifted his gaze towards us. As he did so, Oliver stepped out from behind Jack and lightly coughed to bring her attention to him.
"Good afternoon, madam."
Gaze snapping to Oliver, the woman's face flickered to surprise for a split second, her eyes widening and her lips slightly parting. However, that look was quickly stuffed under her mask of politeness, and her fake smile brightened in intensity and plasticity.
"Good afternoon, sir Oliver. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that one day such an esteemed guest from High Street would visit this poor orphanage."
She opened the door wider; her smile looked kind, but her words dripped with sarcasm and a slight hint of malice. Shrugging his shoulders in a helpless gesture, Oliver then turned to me and whispered near my ear.
"You should go join the children. I think you'll get along with them better than me."
Then, after he said those words, Oliver showed me a slightly crooked smile and stuffed several papers into my pocket.
"Then Jack and I will take you up on your offer. However, I think my brother would like to hang out with the children more."
At the mention of my name, I stepped out from behind Jack's back and watched as the features on the woman's face softened at the sight of me.
"...sure."
Closing her eyes, the woman seemed to be experiencing a battle within herself as she led Jack and Oliver into the right room. Once the three of them had entered, the creaky metal door swung shut behind them, and I was left alone at the entrance of the orphanage.
Shifting my gaze to the left, I decided to heed Oliver's words and gather my courage before opening the door and entering the left room.
"Why are you here?"
The moment I took one step into the left room, the same cold voice questioned me from the center of the room. The left room of the orphanage looked like a shared communal space. On my left was a wall stacked with handmade cubbies for the children, where their belongings seemed to be placed. The uneven cubes held a variety of hand-sewn bags and boxes, presumably filled with the children's personal belongings.
This line of cubbies stretched until it reached a more colorfully designed area. This area had a handwoven rug acting as the boundary between the rest of the room and the cozy area squeezed into the corner. Out of the entire room, this corner was the most eye-catching and pleasant-looking area, with multi-colored rugs and stitched-together curtains buddled up near the window, ready to be pulled down and dragged out as a barrier between the rest of the room and that small, specific area.
One differently colored bookshelf, several rags-turned-cushions, and the hand-woven rag rug brought this little corner to life. It was a precious spark of joy in this barren and soul-crushing Bottom Street. And it was also a sign of how much the person who owned this orphanage genuinely cared for the children.
In the middle of this communal area was a larger, blander-colored handwoven rug. And it was on this rug that the same group of children, who were so hostile toward Jack earlier, were glaring at me like I was an intruder in their house.
Well, I guess, to be fair, I was technically an intruder in their house.
Standing up from the rug, the boy with the cold voice, the one who seemed to be the leader of this group, took several large steps toward me and furrowed his eyes at me.
"I. Asked. Why. Are. You. Here."
Gritting his teeth, he squeezed out those words as he growled at me. His tall stature towered over me even though he was a good several feet away.
I lifted my head to look into his eyes and immediately noticed their ice-like qualities. That protectiveness and hostility toward anyone who even seemingly seemed threatening to those whom he valued.
This young boy had MDVA.
In fact, as I briefly scanned the room to take note of the others who seemed to be glaring holes into me, I quickly noticed that they all shared these qualities. The growling, the snarling, and that aggressiveness. It was all so familiar. And after taking note of how many children were in the room, I came to the blood-chilling recognition that less than half, maybe around one-third, of the children in this room had MDVA.
"Hey!"
Snapping my attention back to me, the boy drew back his lips even more and hunched up his body, his fists bunched up and near his chest, ready to strike out if I continued ignoring him.
A little stunned at his action, I instinctively sucked in a deep breath and bowed to him as I introduced myself.
"Hello. I'm Dan."
Lifting my head, I saw the look of surprise on the boy's face after I bowed at him, and his fists immediately dropped to his sides.
"...I'm Arthur."
Although his fists had dropped, Arthur still stared at me with suspicion in his eyes as he greeted me back. Facing each other, the two of us sunk into awkward silence for a couple of seconds as his gaze scanned over me.
"Why did you and that adult come here?"
After he had looked over me to his heart's content, Arthur folded his arms as he squinted his eyes and questioned me. Behind him, the other children were quietly listening in on our conversation, their sharp eyes staring straight at me as they let their leader do all the talking.
Why did we come here?
Breaking eye contact with Arthur, I looked down at the papers Oliver had stuffed into my pocket before disappearing through the right door. If we had to talk about why Oliver needed to visit anywhere in Bottom Street, there was really only one reason.
Digging all the papers out of my pocket, I unfolded them and straightened them out. Then, putting them in front of my eyes, I skimmed through them.
As expected!
In front of my eyes was a volunteer contract. It looked to be an identical contract to the ones Oliver had handed out in Bottom Bottom Street. Rubbing my fingers on the paper, I quickly counted at least 10 individual pieces of paper.
"What is that?"
Watching me take out and fumble around with several sheets of paper, Arthur shot a question at me as he glanced wearily at the papers.
"It's the reason we came here."
I took one piece of paper and offered it to him. Seeing it, Arthur seemed to be suspicious of my actions. However, after a quick moment, he grabbed the thing out of my hands and squinted his eyes to read it.
"Va-lan-tur-corn-too-ract?"
He spoke out each syllable, one by one, and then jerked his head up in a confused reaction.
"What's this?"