I gaze up at the looming building in front of me. The Gilmour Orphanage. Suddenly I didn’t feel so big. The place looked dirty… or at least for my standards.
“Mother!” I whined. “Why do I have to stay at an orphanage?”
My mother merely glances at my pleading face before answering. “Darling, we’ve been through this before.” Now, she looks around suspiciously and nervously. “We suspect that there shall be a war, and we simply cannot be letting you run around. After all, your father is a very important man.”
I sighed. Never in my life have I heard something told to me as often as I’ve heard that. For some reason, I suspected that everyone was lying to me, but I knew better than to speak my suspicions.
Mother and I walked up to the door, our butler trailing after us with my bags. When we opened the door, we were greeted by an elderly woman.
“Hello, and welcome to the Gilmour Orphanage. I am Mrs. Gilmour… you must be Erika Watts. Your room is upstairs, the first door to the left.” Mrs. Gilmour smiled sweetly at me, and in return, I glared at my Mother.
Mr. Percy, our butler, and I walked up stairs – he ahead of me – so he didn’t notice when I disappeared through the open door on the right.
I stare around at the messy room in awe, wondering how someone could live in such a mess. I almost didn’t notice the boy sitting at the make-shift desk.
“Oh, sorry… is this your room?” I ask the boy. He turns to face me slowly.
I couldn’t help but stare at him. He was quite handsome for a boy living at an orphanage. His blonde hair was cut short, but nicely styled and he had beautiful green eyes. Instinctively, I reach up to my own face. His eyes were the exact same colour as mine, yet it was impossible. No one had my eyes.
I keep staring at the boy, looking for any other similarities in the face. But I couldn’t find any. My hair was long, curly and red and I was very pale.
Not wanting to be rude, I hold my hand out to him. “My name is Erika. Erika Watts. I’m 14.”
The boy looks at my outstretched hand carefully before taking it in his own. He smiles at me. “Ben.”