Orphan Academy

Posting each part of “Orphan Academy” was a lot of fun, but for those of you who’d prefer to have the entire story in one place (I actually can’t decide if it’s a “long story” or a “short book”), here it is as a PDF:

Orphan Academy PDF

I’m thinking of trying to translate this into screenplay form – think that would work? (Of course, in order to do it, I have to learn HOW to write in screenplay form – something I’ve never done!) I’d love to hear your thoughts…

Duos

Declan ducked to avoid being slapped by tree branches. He was on Fiona’s horse Gryff, while she rode the smaller Minnie.

“I think they can tell when we’re going out for a trail ride,” said Fiona as she pulled up alongside him. “The all-purpose saddles must feel different than the ones we use for competitions. God knows, they feel different to me! A helluva lot more comfortable!”

Declan recalled his own days on the amateur riding circuit.

“Let me guess: they were friskier than usual. This guy looks like he’d enjoy messing with your head when he knew he could get away with it.”

“Nah, Gryff was okay,” she said somewhat jerkily as they broke into a trot. “He tossed his head around a few times, but nothing major. This one, on the other hand…”

“Minnie?” Declan laughed. “She looks so sweet!”

“Yeah. Don’t let that fool you. She has this trick where she holds her breath while you’re tightening the girth, so just when you think it’s perfect, she exhales and the saddle starts sliding around.”

Declan reined Gryff back into a walk.

“Maybe they’re just freaked out by their new barn,” he said. “Although I have to say—it’s really nice!”

“Yeah, I love it. And now that I have my license, I can come here every day after school if I want.”

“And I’m guessing you want?”

“You know it!”

A grin lit up Fiona’s face, but faded as quickly as it had appeared.

“My new boyfriend doesn’t like it much, though,” she admitted. “He doesn’t ride, so he doesn’t understand, I guess.”

Declan, content in his five-month relationship with Esprit, was able to speak with no trace of jealousy.

“Well, what’s he into, then?”

“Carl? Art, mostly. He keeps taking me to gallery openings in Old City.”

“And he hasn’t come to this barn yet? There’s a painting everywhere you turn! I would have thought he’d love it!”

“Yeah. You’d think that, wouldn’t you? Carl’s into modern art, though. He doesn’t have a lot of patience for the ‘pretty picture’ artists.”

They’d reached the stable, and Declan dismounted, dragging the saddle and saddle blanket off Gryff as Fiona did the same for Minnie.

“Picasso’s pretty modern,” Declan said as he walked into the tack room. “Women with three noses and stuff. But he was classically trained, did you know that? Could paint landscapes like nobody’s business.”

“Hmm. Maybe I’ll mention that to Carl.”

“Fiona! There you are!” said Connie. “Are you done riding Gryff and Minnie for the day? ’Cause if you are, my guys would like to muck out their stalls and get them settled.”

“Yes, we’re finished. Do whatever you need to do,” she said. “The horses are right outside grazing.”

“I’m guessing that’s the barn manager,” said Declan once she’d gone. “Do you like her?”

Fiona smiled.

“Oh, yeah. Connie’s great—with horses and people both. She keeps some ‘therapy horses’ for autistic kids, runs a program called Special Riders… the animals really bring the kids out of their shells. Connie’s always saying she can’t get enough volunteers, though…”

They both got sodas from the vending machine in the barn, and ambled through the stalls, in no particular rush.

“So how about your love life?” asked Fiona. “Are you still dating that Orphan Academy girl?”

“Esprit,” Declan answered. “Yeah, I am. It’s pretty cool. She’s helped so much with Orphan Academy too, especially with the homeschooling part. Esprit’s really smart, and it seems like she’s read every book there is. She teaches us older ones, and we teach the younger ones.”

“Teacher’s pet!” Fiona laughed. “Sounds like you have it all worked out. I’m impressed.”

She leaned over a wooden half-door to stroke the nose of a big gray stallion. The horse turned its rubbery lips on her jacket sleeve and started to chew.

“Hey!”

Declan chuckled as she withdrew her arm.

“Well, we had a pretty good system going, it’s true, but it’s getting hard to keep up. There are nineteen kids now, plus me, and twenty-three more waiting to join!”

“Wow, full house!”

“I know. I never expected it to get this big. I need to think about expansion. I’ll talk to your dad at dinner tonight.”

“Guess I need to think of more decorating ideas! What about college, though? You know my dad’s going to ask. Ever since I got that scholarship to Princeton, he’s been kind of obsessed.”

Declan sighed.

“I’m not sure what to do about it, to tell you the truth. A few of us are old enough to apply, but the schoolwork we’ve been doing doesn’t count as far as the state’s concerned. It’s that ‘orphan’ thing. They don’t give out credits unless a parent’s the one teaching.”

Fiona twirled a strand of long blonde hair.

“That’s a tough one. Talk to Dad about that too. Maybe he’ll know about some weird law to get around it. And I’ll ask Carl’s mom too.”

“Carl’s mom?”

“She works in the admissions office of a community college. It’s not an Ivy, of course, but it might be a place to start.”

“That’s a great idea! After all, it doesn’t matter what school you go to, as long as you learn, right?”

“Um—right,” Fiona replied.

Diversion

“Did you have a good time today, luv?” asked Arabella later that evening, when Declan went to the kitchen for a snack.

“Sure, Arabella,” he said vaguely. “It was fine.”

The older woman looked at the dark-haired youth for a long moment before replying.

“Have a muffin, luv. They’re chocolate-chocolate-chunk. Karen helped me make them before she left to spend some time with that boy of hers.”

Declan’s mouth was full of muffin when Arabella asked, “So what’s the problem? And don’t try saying ‘everything’s fine’ in that tone of voice where I know you’re lying. That tone you used to use when you said you couldn’t study because of a stomachache. That tone you used just now.”

Declan finished swallowing hastily.

“You knew those stomachaches were fake?”

“Of course I did, lad. What do you take me for? Now, out with it. What’s on your mind?”

The boy sighed.

“It’s this place, Arabella. I love Orphan Academy, and I’m so glad I started it, but it seems to be getting too big for me to handle. I mean, there are kids waiting to get in who we don’t have space for, and some of the kids who are here are old enough to get jobs or go to college. Plus now that the weather’s getting warmer, all of the kids seem to be getting stir-crazy. I just don’t know what to do.”

Arabella straightened up from the oven, where she’d been checking on the chicken for tomorrow’s wraps. “Have you talked with your girl about this? From what Karen says, she has a lot to do with the schooling. What does she think?”

“Esprit’s noticed it too,” answered Declan. “In fact, just the other day—”

A chorus of shouts swelled from the common room and interrupted Declan and Arabella’s conversation.

“What’s that?”

“I’ve no idea, lad. It almost sounds like the crowd at a cricket match!”

Arabella at his heels, Declan tore into the common room to find it completely packed. Despite the weather, none of the kids were in the courtyard. Instead, every single one of them applauded a fellow student as he strummed a fake guitar.

Jax had finally earned enough Orphan Academy Dollars to play the most coveted game in the place.

RoShelle, whom he’d watched as she’d played this very same game months ago, was the second-loudest cheerleader.

The first loudest, of course, was Karen.

 

Discussions

“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Hunter.”

The petite woman in the severe business suit sat in the chair Malcolm indicated.

“I’m happy to, Ms. Williams. But I’ll admit, I still don’t understand quite why you’re here. My secretary only said that you had some, uh, urgent questions to ask me. Quite mysterious,” he added with a gentle chuckle.

Malcolm took in the woman’s youth and the good looks she hid with her staid clothes, makeup-free face, and somewhat dowdy hair bun. A divorce case, he assumed. A cheating husband. Whoever had given her his name must not have realized that he only practiced estate law. He’d correct her soon enough. She’d probably be out of his office before the thirty minutes his secretary had booked were over…

“So, how can I help you?”

“Well, I have a kind of—unusual—matter to discuss with you. Part of my job—I’m Principal at Charles Hamilton Houston High School—is to make sure that every school-age student in my district is receiving an education. Recently, one of my truant officers spotted a number of children coming and going from the same place—an abandoned house. Whenever he investigates, the children always vanish. Quite mysterious,” she added with a faint smile.

Malcolm’s mind was racing.

First that thug Marty, now a truant officer—how long before Orphan Academy had to be shut down?

In the past six months, as there had been no more criminal attacks, he’d come around to Declan’s way of thinking. Some of the Orphan Academy kids were experiencing stability for the first time in their lives. Where would they go if the place were shut down?

But more to the point—why was this woman in his office at all?

“And you’re here because…?” he asked, taking care to keep his face a mask of polite puzzlement.

“My truant officer took note of the address of that house the kids kept disappearing into. I did a little research and found out that the house is owned by one Malcolm Hunter. Work address: here. So, I need to ask you—do you know anything about these children?”

Malcolm maintained his calm exterior, but inside, his mind continued to race.

If he pretended ignorance, what would the consequences be? Suppose that truant officer caught one of the kids, and the whole story came out anyway? Could Malcolm be arrested?

He was somewhat surprised to learn that that prospect didn’t alarm him nearly as much as the thought of Orphan Academy shutting its doors.

He thought of the concerns Declan had raised at dinner the other night, and about some of the things Arabella had mentioned in her latest weekly phone call.

He made a decision—one he hoped Declan would understand.

Malcolm leaned forward to press a button on his phone.

“Sonia, please reschedule my next two appointments. Offer my apologies, tell them it’s an emergency. And then, could you please bring some coffee and pastries into my office? Thank you.”

He leaned back and addressed Principal Williams.

“As a matter of fact, I know quite a lot about those children. And I believe we can help each other… ”

Destiny

“It’s gonna seem really weird to have Orphan Academy be out in the open,” said RoShelle as the former “Marty’s Girls” lounged in the common room.

“True that,” added Esperanza. “And it’s gonna be a real school, too, with adults and everything! I mean, we’ve always had Arabella, but I don’t really count her.”

“I know what you mean,” put in RoShelle. “Her food’s amazing, but she never gets all up in your grill like most adults do.”

“Is it all gonna change, do you think? Are we gonna have to go away?” asked Tommi in a worried tone.

“Of course not, silly!” scoffed Candy. “It’ll be different, but Declan promised us we could stay here as long as we wanted, didn’t he?”

“I know,” the younger girl answered. “I believe Declan, but it just seems so strange. I mean—grown-ups. They won’t be like Marty, do you think, will they, Candy?”

“Are you nuts? Totally not! And anyway, you heard what Declan said. Marty was arrested. I guess once we came here, he didn’t have as much money coming in. I think he shot a cop too—that’s what I heard, anyway—so he’ll be in jail for years.”

“Well, thank God for that!” RoShelle said. “That man was evil through and through.”

“I’m kinda excited, if you wanna know the truth,” said Esperanza. “Have you seen the rooms in that addition Declan’s having built? I mean, they’re okay and all—but ours are way nicer.”

“And with all these new kids, Esprit won’t be able to teach everybody. She really needs the help.”

“It’ll be fine, Tommi. You’ll see.”

—————

“Y’know, I like everything about this volunteering-with-Special-Riders gig except this part,” DeShawn said as he tossed another shovelful of manure onto an ever-growing pile outside the stalls.

“I know what you mean!” agreed Karen, wiping sweat from her eyes with a tattooed forearm. “I guess it’s like Arabella always says: ‘you have to take the bitter with the sweet.’”

DeShawn was uncharacteristically quiet for a few moments as he continued to muck out the stall.

“I guess it is. Before he died, my daddy used to say that you had to ‘play the cards you’re dealt.’ He was talking about moving—we got evicted a lot—but I guess it applies to horse poop too… ”

Suddenly, he pretended to lob a handful of manure at her, and she screamed and ducked.

“Oh, I’m so getting you for that!”

“What?” DeShawn protested from behind a hay bale. “I was only foolin’! It was just dirt. I checked. Smelled it and everything.”

“How could you tell? Everything smells like horse poop in here!”

DeShawn chuckled.

“You know, you’re right. Well, I thought it was just dirt, anyways.”

One of the ancient Special Riders horses poked her head around the corner. The horses in the program were so old and so docile that they didn’t even need to be tied up when the stalls got mucked out.

Karen patted the dappled mare’s neck, and got a loving nuzzle in return.

“Hello, Petal. You’re a pretty girl, aren’t you? Want an apple? I snuck a few in. Don’t tell Connie, okay? You guys are probably on some special soft-food diet.”

Petal extended her neck and gently took the apple from Karen’s flattened, outstretched hand. She dropped half-chewed pieces all over the barn floor as she ate it.

“Hey Karen, can I have one for old Mr. Mack?”

She narrowed her eyes in mock-anger.

“Well, you don’t deserve it, but Mr. Mack shouldn’t have to pay for that. Here you go.”

“I told you it was just dirt!” DeShawn smiled. “Lord, woman. You can sure be mean! Poor Jax!”

Karen’s expression softened in an instant.

“I’d never be mean to Jax.”

DeShawn mimed sticking a finger down his throat.

—————

“I can’t believe Karen’s going to college. Of all people!” laughed Declan as he strolled through a city park with his arm around Esprit.

“Not college,” his girlfriend corrected. “Cooking school. Do you think they’ll make her take out her eyebrow ring?”

“I hope not!” Declan said. “Karen wouldn’t be Karen without her eyebrow ring.”

Esprit pulled away from Declan to look him full in the face.

“Karen may look the same, Declan, but she’s different now than when she first came to Orphan Academy. We all are. I think every one of us has changed—for the better.”

Declan turned his head so Esprit wouldn’t see the blush he felt flooding his cheeks.

“Thanks, Esprit. That means a lot. Do you think it’s still going to be good now that it’s becoming a real school?”

“Are you kidding? It’s going to be better than ever! And this way, the kids will be able to get credit for all the schoolwork they do—they can actually apply to college and get good jobs and stuff.”

“Well, some of the old kids are doing that anyway. DeShawn, Esperanza, Fernando, and RoShelle are going to community college. Jax, Candy, and you have jobs at Orphan Academy,” he reminded her.

“I know, but I was talking about jobs out in the real world. I’m going to love being a teacher’s aide at the new school, and I think Jax and Candy will be fantastic resident advisors, but this way is better, with more structure and all.” She paused.

“I never thought I’d hear myself say that—see what I mean about being changed now? Man, are my folks in for a surprise when they get out of jail!”

Declan threw back his head and laughed.

“Have you talked to them?”

“Not much. They’re so far away, and the calls are always long distance. We write to them, though. I hope you don’t mind, but I told them about you.”

“Why would I mind? I hope I get to meet them someday.”

Esprit listened carefully, but didn’t hear a trace of anxiety or awkwardness in his tone.

She reached up to kiss him, then circled his back with her arms as she hugged him to her.

“I think you will,” she whispered.

—————

“This used to be your house, man?” Fernando craned his neck. He didn’t know where to look first. 

“Yeah,” Declan answered, a little wistfully. “I don’t know why my folks bought such a big place. I was their only child and all, and by the time they died, I was fourteen. My mom was, like, forty. Isn’t that too old for a woman to have kids?”

“Not in Haiti,” laughed Jax. He felt almost as out of place as Fernando, despite his own brief history with the de Valera estate. He’d only been here once before, after all—and he’d had a fever then, too.

“This place is a perfect summer camp, you know,” Jax added. “The last time I was here, it was cold, but now that it’s thawed out, I can see how great it will be for all those new kids. Orphan Academy is sweet, of course,” he hastened to add. “But trees and grass are good for everyone.”

“Yeah, it’ll make a nice change. The kids will like it, I think. I mean, there are no horses or anything—they’ll have to go to my friend’s barn for that—but as you say, there are trees and grass. Plus a stream with fish and some rabbits and lots of birds. Used to drive Galahad crazy… ”

The huge dog must have heard his name. He barreled into the living room, head thrust down and forward against his leash, dragging Davy behind him.

Declan, Jax, and Fernando all burst out laughing. Davy, who bore only a slight limp as a souvenir of his adventure with Marty’s thugs, joined in with a loud, toneless bark that sounded just like the dog’s.

Later that night, after all the kids had settled in for the first of their fourteen days of sunshine, summer breezes, and nature, Declan lay back in his old bed.

He was glad Esprit would come up from Orphan Academy tomorrow, but his thoughts were of his parents tonight, of the lessons they had taught him.

He used only one pillow, and needed only a quarter of the huge bed. Galahad jumped up, turned a half circle, and settled at the boy’s feet.

Declan slept like a baby.

Doubts

“This is quite serious, Declan,” Malcolm said quietly, a worried expression in his eyes. “When Arabella called me, I almost couldn’t believe it. I still have a hard time, to be honest—there are more hidden security cameras in that old house than in most downtown banks! And with all of you monitoring them, like you said…”

Declan squirmed, looking around the restaurant’s opulent dining room instead of at the lawyer.

“Thanks again for taking Davy to the hospital,” he said to get the subject off of the security cameras. “I’m really glad we have you to turn to.”

Malcolm put down his fork.

“That’s very nice of you to say, son—and it was very fortunate that the doctor’s an old family friend who didn’t ask awkward questions. How is the boy, anyway? My friend said he’d be good as new after six weeks on crutches.”

“Davy’s fine, sir. His sister was really worried at first, but she’s better now too.”

“Arabella said you chased those thugs off with a variety of foodstuffs, is that right?”

Declan grinned in spite of himself.

“Yes, sir.”

“That must have been a sight to see,” Malcolm murmured. In a normal tone, he noted, “Well, then, you must be quite short on supplies again. Shall I provide Arabella with funds for another shopping trip?”

“That would be great, sir.”

“Do you think she’ll be safe?” he asked after waving away the dessert cart.

“Oh yes, sir. It’s us kids they want,” Declan said, staring wistfully at the retreating crème brulée. “Jax told me it’s because if the bad guys make us commit crimes for them, and we get arrested, the police have to release us on account of our age.”

Malcolm almost choked on his after-dinner brandy.

“Declan, do you hear yourself? ‘Crimes, arrests, police…’ I knew the break-in was dangerous, but I had no idea there are people who would coerce you into performing illegal acts!”

He picked up the heavy salt shaker, turning it over and over in his hands, oblivious to the small pile of salt he was leaving on the linen tablecloth.

“Declan, I’m aware that I have no authority over you, but I have to ask you to reconsider this venture. It was a noble experiment, but in light of this information, I’m sorry to say that I think Orphan Academy should be disbanded.”

On the point of pushing back the carved arms of his heavy chair, Declan stopped short.

“I couldn’t do that! Most of the kids are just now starting to feel comfortable! Where would they go?”

“Declan, they were living on the streets before. I’m sure they could make their way.”

“So I should just close the doors, tell the kids ‘goodbye and good luck’?” He didn’t care that the other diners were looking at their table, shocked at the sound of his raised voice.

“And what about me and Arabella? We should just go back to the estate—that too-big, lonely estate? Without Mom and Dad, I hate it there!”

“Of course not,” Malcolm said in a soothing tone. “With Arabella’s cooking skills, she could get a job at any fine restaurant in this city. Or, since she’s done so well with all of you, perhaps she could become the head chef at a private boarding school—a real academy.”

“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You’ve never thought of Orphan Academy as ‘real,’ have you? You just thought it was a little project I was doing to keep myself occupied…”

“That’s unfair, Declan. I never said that, nor do I think it. I’ve helped in every way I could think of. As has my daughter.”

Declan knew he was right. But still…

“Where would I go if I closed Orphan Academy?” he asked more softly. “You said Arabella could find work anywhere and the kids could go back to their old lives. But what about me?”

“I’ve said this before, and it still stands. You could move in with us.”

Declan pretended to think about it while Malcolm settled the bill with their server.

“Are you ready?” asked the older man.

“Yes, sir. I’m ready to go home—to Orphan Academy. Thanks for your offer, but that’s my home now.”

—————

Later that night, Declan tossed restlessly in his bed. Worry was keeping him awake. He wasn’t thinking about break-ins or criminals, but about the future. At first, he’d just wanted to create a place where homeless kids could be safe and warm. Now, though, it seemed like it was getting more complicated than that.

What would happen when the Orphan Academy kids became adults?

Dilemma

 

“Jax! How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you for months!” one of the boy’s street friends said.

“Yeah, man. Word is that you went to a fancy secret school some rich white kid runs. I didn’t think we’d ever see you back on South Street,” added another.

“Well, here I am,” Jax replied. He smiled broadly as he embraced both of his friends in turn.

They smelled awful.

Like sweaty socks and a public men’s room combined.

Did I used to smell like that? Jax wondered.

“How’s business been?” he asked to cover his sudden discomfort.

“Not too bad,” answered one of his friends. “A girl’s taken over your corner. She’s doing tarot cards as well as reading palms. It’s always harder in the cold weather.”

“St. Patrick’s Day next week will be great though,” put in the other. “Everyone drunk by 11:00 a.m. Like taking candy from a baby.”

One of the boys spotted a likely looking target. He nudged the other.

“Check him out. Wrinkled pants, matching jacket, a rolled-up tie in his hand—and a wallet in his back pocket. Major hangover, I’m thinking.”

“Oh yeah! Should be easy pickings. We’ll be flying by lunchtime! What do you say, Jax? Want to join in for old times’ sake?”

Jax knew what came next.

His friends would rob the man, and the man probably wouldn’t even know it. Then his friends would buy drugs from another boy, get high, and spend the afternoon and evening relaxing in an apartment building vestibule or an empty basement.

Wherever they wound up going, they wouldn’t have to study, though, Jax mused…

No books, no assignments, no tests. No responsibilities, no rules to follow.

They hadn’t signed a pledge, and they didn’t have to take a shift watching boring security cameras either.

Not a care in the world.

Suddenly, Jax remembered Mrs. Arabella teaching Karen how to cook—and fighting off bad guys with a rolling pin and some cayenne pepper. He thought of Galahad sleeping at Davy’s feet, of Esprit making sure they were all learning that day’s lessons, of Esperanza, RoShelle, and the others playing video games and watching stupid comedy DVDs together. He thought of a night when he’d had a really bad cold and Declan hadn’t let him sleep on the frigid library steps.

Yeah, his street friends didn’t have a care in the world, he realized—but nobody cared about them either.

He made up his mind.

“Thanks, guys, but I don’t think I’ll go today. I have somewhere I need to be.”

Dodge

Ralph Bieberhoffer, truant officer and wannabe cop, was 0 for 8 on the day. All of the kids he’d chased had gotten away.

He hated his job, but he figured it was better than working retail or bartending while he waited for the current budget freeze to melt and the Police Academy to start taking new recruits. With the buzz cut and tattoos he’d carefully gotten, he didn’t think he’d have any trouble fitting in.

Ralph put down his cardboard coffee cup when he caught sight of a teenaged male with short braids and started to follow him. After several blocks, the boy ducked into a seemingly deserted house.

Ralph had seen several other kids enter and exit that same place over the last few weeks. They’d always disappeared.

Was it a squatter house?

This time, he was sure his target didn’t know about the surveillance. Never letting Jax out of his sight, Ralph darted through the city streets, stealthy as a jackal, standing stock-still whenever he thought the boy knew what was up.

This time, he was able to follow his quarry straight into the house.

“I’ve got you!” thought Ralph as he stole through the front door, maintaining his quiet even as he expected to apprehend the boy momentarily.

Silence.

Ralph was used to that. All kids seemed to think they were the first ones ever to think of hiding.

This is almost too easy, Ralph thought to himself as he flung open the coat closet door.

Nothing.

Even when he pushed aside the dusty trench coats and parkas, expecting to find children cowering and covering their lips, and perhaps that boy, clamping his hands over the mouth of a younger one, there was still silence…

—————

“I can’t figure out where they go!” he exploded as he reported to his boss, Ms. Williams. “That last boy—I really thought I had him. It was as if he vanished into thin air! And he looked as neat and clean as the others too. I’m telling you, I can’t figure it out!”

The principal motioned Ralph to sit in one of the torn vinyl chairs on the other side of her wide, scarred desk.

“Don’t worry, Ralph. We can’t win them all. I’m sure you did your best.”

Taking in her truant officer’s stained, untucked shirt and five o’clock shadow, she didn’t speak with a lot of confidence. Still, for the meager salary the school district was willing to offer, she couldn’t expect much. At least Bieberhoffer showed up for work each day and appeared to somewhat conscientious.

That house was a mystery, though.

Multiple kids. Kids who looked clean and well cared for.

“Did you get the address of the house, by any chance? I’d like to do a little research. I hate to think of all those children getting no education.”

—————

“So it’s history today!” said Esprit. “We’ve gotten through the ancient Greeks, the Roman Empire, and the Viking invasions so far, and we’re up to the Dark Ages and the plague. Did you guys get a chance to read that section of your books?”

“Absolutely,” murmured Declan. “Plagues.” He was remembering last weekend, when he’d gently moved Esprit’s curly hair and kissed the nape of her neck…

“Sure,” replied a listless RoShelle.

“Uh huh,” came DeShawn’s voice. “But I don’t get why we have to read about white people all the time. I’d be willing to bet that some brothers were doing pretty cool stuff while white folks was chasing rats.”

Esprit thought of the textbook catalogs Declan had given her. She dimly remembered seeing several non-European history books in there.

“DeShawn, you’re absolutely right,” she said. “As soon as I can get more books, we’re going to diversify! African history next! Any other ideas?”

“How about Puerto Rican history?” asked Esperanza.

“Haitian!” added Jax.

“How about Guatemalan?” put in Fernando.

Esprit made notes feverishly as the kids called out ideas.

“Wow! Thanks for all the great thoughts, guys. I’ll make sure we cover all of them! I have to warn you, though—next week in English, we start reading Shakespeare. He was a British white guy, but a really great writer. Don’t be too hard on me! We’ll start with a play of his called Othello, I think, based on what you said about history. It’s about an African prince.”

“Now that sounds cool,” said DeShawn.

Karen had heard of Shakespeare. All those big words and weird language and stuff.

She put her head in her hands.

Deception

Jax scooped a few M&Ms out of the bowl on the kitchen counter while Karen worked on the next day’s breakfast.

“You were amazing in that fight,” he said. “Seeing you with that butcher knife—I wouldn’t have wanted to mess with you!”

Karen laughed.

“I can’t help it. I really hate Marty. And now that I’m at this place, I don’t want to go back to my old life—ever.”

Jax took a deep breath and looked straight at her lovely profile, hoping she wouldn’t be too mad at him.

“Then maybe you should learn to read.”

Karen stopped kneading dough for cinnamon rolls and stared at Jax.

“What are you talking about?” she asked with a deadly calm.

She’s mad at me, thought Jax.

He sighed.

Oh, well. I’ll make her forgive me later.

“Are you kidding? I know the signs. You’re really good in all the classes—except English. You always find someplace else to be during English class. Whenever anyone talks about a book, you pretend to throw up. If we have to write for an assignment, you find a reason to skip it. To be honest, I don’t think you read that pledge when you first joined—because you couldn’t.”

Karen kept her arms crossed and looked at the ground. She wondered why it had to be Jax—of all people—who talked about this with her. She thought she’d been covering so well, too.

“So you’re going to be all judgmental and stuff because I can’t read so good?” she spat.

“Of course not! I can barely read myself! I think the nuns back in Haiti were secretly glad when I turned up in their classes because it was penance just to teach me. They must have thought they’d get extra heaven points!”

Karen laughed at that. Reluctantly—but she did laugh.

“Listen, how about we both get some extra help? We could always ask Esprit—or someone else,” he added quickly at the sight of her rolling eyes.

“Nah, I guess Esprit’s okay. I wasn’t crazy about her at first. I mean, it’s not like we have a lot in common. She was cool when we fought off Marty’s guys though. She even helped clean up after—and that olive oil and marshmallow thing we poured on the floor was a mess! She was really worried about her brother, but she didn’t want to leave all the dirty work to me and Arabella while the rest of you were standing guard at the doors and windows. She really loves him, you know?”

Karen’s eyes darted upward and caught Jax’s for just a second before she looked down again.

With exaggerated casualness, she asked, “So, you’d be doing these extra reading sessions too, right?”

Jax took in Karen’s skinny jeans, figure-hugging long-sleeved t-shirt, and the delicate features beneath her piercings. She may not realize it, he thought, but she was so very pretty… and she seemed to have forgiven him too.

He grinned broadly and took a chance, boldly covering Karen’s hand with his own.

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

Drama

“Davy! Welcome home!”

“Yeah, man. Great to have you back.”

“I’m going to cook a special dinner for you tonight, luv, with all of your favorite foods—macaroni and cheese, spareribs, and chocolate cake.”

Davy beamed as Esprit led him to an oversized chair and ottoman so he could rest his weakened leg, heavy in its cast under the sweatpants Esprit had brought him after the nurses had cut away his jeans.

“How did he go through the tunnel with that thing?” Candy wondered aloud.

“I wish I had taken pictures, Candy!” Esprit laughed. She was used to talking about Davy in front of the boy. Because of his hearing, he actually preferred it.  “You should have seen him—inch by inch—on his butt!”

Candy laughed, and DeShawn said to Davy, “Spareribs and chocolate cake! I’m sorry you got beat up and all, but check it—spareribs and chocolate cake!”

Declan was about to scold him for his insensitive statement when something else forced it from his mind. Galahad all but knocked over the already-unbalanced Davy as he welcomed the smiling boy home with a fusillade of sloppy kisses.

—————

Davy would need more sweatpants while that cast was on, Declan thought as he padded downstairs to the Orphan Academy store after dinner to check the stock. He knew the layout far too well to need to take the elevator.

As he rounded the corner and headed for the store, he saw Eddie coming the other way.

Eddie didn’t see Declan, though, until he walked right into him. The new student’s arms were full of leather jackets and his backpack was overflowing with state-of-the-art electronic devices.

Declan had no idea what to say, and besides, he didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

“Eddie. Hi. You sure have a lot of coats there. You must be really cold.”

Eddie exhaled sharply.

“C’mon, man. You know what I’m doing. Yeah, I’m breaking the rules in that precious pledge of yours. Reselling this stuff will bring me a lot of money.”

“But Eddie,” Declan sputtered, “Why would you want it? Don’t you have everything you need right here?”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” sneered Eddie. “Your special money is fine for this place—but only for this place. It’s like a secret hideaway or something. It’s fun and nice—but it has nothing to do with the real world. And in the real world, you need real money. I know you won’t miss this stuff,” he added, holding out his arms. “You said when you read that essay that you were really rich. You can just buy more, right? So I’ll do my real-world thing some nights, but mostly I’ll stay here. Okay? We cool? See you at breakfast!”

Declan leaned against the wall for support and stared at the boy, unable to say a word. For the first time since forming Orphan Academy, he was faced with the kind of situation both Jax and Mr. Hunter had warned him about.

He’d never wanted to have to make this type of decision—but when he thought of all the kids who were really benefitting from Orphan Academy, not taking advantage of it, he knew what he had to do.

Eddie had already turned and was sauntering down the hall. Declan had to raise his voice at first.

“Eddie! I’m sorry. I hate to do this. But I have to ask you not to come back. And for the sake of the other kids, please don’t tell anyone where this place is. As you saw, some of the kids already have bad guys looking for them. People who want to hurt them.”

Remember Eddie’s essay, Declan lowered his eyes, but he didn’t say anything else.

Eddie paused for a long moment, half-expecting Declan to change his mind.

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

“Take care, Eddie,” Declan said softly.

Eddie pressed the elevator button, amazed that Declan hadn’t given in. He reflected that if he’d known this would be his last night at Orphan Academy, he would have taken more stuff.

If he was totally honest, though, he thought as the elevator doors opened on the comfortable, made-for-teenagers common room, he had to admit it—he’d sort of miss the place.

Dream

Breakfast wasn’t a formal meal at Orphan Academy, as Arabella had predicted all those months ago. She made sure there was plenty of coffee and a homemade baked item (today, cherry cheese Danish ring) to augment the cereal and toast.

Regardless of their attitude about school, the kids tended to gather in the common room around 9:00 a.m.

Good thing he’d bought all that furniture, Declan thought to himself as he glanced around at his fellow students. Davy’s crutches leaned up against his oversized chair and Esprit perched on the ottoman where he rested his leg. Esperanza, Candy, Tommi, and RoShelle, a unit as always, ate unbuttered toast and drank black coffee as they reclined on the wraparound sofa in front of a TV tuned to a morning talk show. Fernando sprawled on the floor near Esprit’s ottoman, his back against another chair, and DeShawn lay full-length on an extra-long couch. Declan thought that Karen was helping Arabella in the kitchen, but he noticed she was actually huddled with Jax on a loveseat, whispering in a corner.

All there, Declan noted as he checked off their names in his mind. He stood up and fake-coughed, and a few of the kids turned around.

“I need to talk to you guys,” he said in a louder-than-normal voice. “Tommi, could you turn down the TV?”

One by one, the others turned to face him.

“You may have noticed that we’re one short this morning, and maybe you thought Eddie was still asleep. But I thought you should know that he left last night. Left for good. He was stealing from our store. I really believe that small crime leads to more crime. Big crime. And as we learned from our recent visitors—as Davy learned firsthand, unfortunately—criminals tend to hurt people.”

“Aw, man.”

“Eddie, huh? Can’t say I’m too surprised.”

“He won’t tell about this place, will he? Marty and his guys may try to break in again!”

“No, he promised he wouldn’t,” Declan said in a reassuring tone. “And there’s some good news on that score, too. Marty was arrested. I just heard it on the radio… So anyway, as hard as it was to do, I had to ask Eddie to leave. You might not think shoplifting is a big deal, but I couldn’t take a chance on Eddie doing something worse.”

Davy had been focusing intently on Declan’s face, trying to combine his rudimentary lip-reading skills with the sounds his good ear could process. He nodded to Declan, looking down at his leg.

“It is a big deal, and I’m glad he’s gone, if he was doing that.”

Surprisingly, it was Jax speaking.

Former con artist and petty criminal Jax.

He walked up to the front of the room, joining Declan in front of the group. He began to speak—but not to the other kids. Instead, he talked to his friend.

“When you read your essay to the class the other day, you talked about how you’d found a family here. I did too… and I’m guessing a lot of you did as well,” he said as he turned to his fellow students.

“I’ll admit it,” he smiled as he faced Declan again. “I never thought it could work. But it did. The Orphan Academy money is nice, yeah. It’s great to eat the delicious food Mrs. Arabella makes. It’s really great to have my own room! I’ve met some really amazing people here too,” he added with a meaningful glance at Karen.

Hastily looking away, he said, “I don’t know about you guys, but I can even deal with schoolwork. I don’t ever want to live on the streets again.”

Jax looked around at the converted warehouse that had become his home, and at each student’s face in turn.

“I love it here.”

Distraction

Orphan Academy didn’t make classes mandatory, but most of the kids showed up anyway. Esprit had become the “teacher,” making sure everyone was staying up to date with the books they needed to read and the assignments they needed to complete.

Declan wondered why.

“Esprit,” he said after the others had left the English classroom one day, “I just wanted to thank you. It’s great how you’ve run with this homeschooling thing. And you really seem to have taken the new girls under your wing too, especially Esperanza.”

“Thanks!” Esprit beamed, pausing to look at him as she gathered up her books.

Declan blinked. For the first time, he noticed how her enormous brown eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled, and how her lips were shaped like a heart… He’d had a crush on Fiona for a couple of months now, but she’d never been interested in him—and anyway, Esprit understood about Orphan Academy. About a lot of things…

“’Ranza’s really cool,” she enthused, unaware that Declan was suddenly looking at her differently. “Do you know she hasn’t been to a proper school since she was in third grade in Puerto Rico? Talk about having a lot to catch up on!”

Declan forced himself to focus.

“You know she won’t be able to get credits for any of this, right? None of us will.”

Esprit’s smile, if anything, grew deeper.

“I know. You told me that at the beginning. But she—all of us—will be so much better prepared to take our GED tests. I mean, seriously—all the supplies, all these books, this nice place where we don’t have to worry about food or heat or being safe… it’s kind of like a miracle. I know I’ve said this before, but I just want to tell you again: this is more than any of us could have imagined.”

Okay, thought Declan. That was all well and good. But did she think he was cute?

He didn’t think it would sound very smooth if he came out and asked her, though, so instead he asked a question he’d been wondering about for a while.

“How did you learn so much, Esprit? You told me you grew up moving from squatter house to squatter house. You can’t have gone to a regular school, and you can’t have been homeschooled either, because your folks would have needed a credit card and a permanent address to get the books and stuff. So how’d you manage it?”

Esprit looked away, wistful now, and her smile dimmed.

“The library,” she said simply.

“What do you mean?”

“Libraries are free, and public, and warm. My folks and I used to go there a lot in the wintertime when we didn’t have heat at our squat. I must have read 10 books a week. They’d taught me how to read when I was really little. They made their own flashcards out of cardboard they found in the trash behind a dry cleaner. I still remember how confused I was by the word ‘laughter’—that ‘augh!’—when I finally understood it, it was like a whole new world opened up to me…”

In his mind’s eye, Declan could see that little girl. He took her hand without even thinking about it.

“You see what you’re doing, right? Showing other kids how to understand ‘laughter’ too. I know you miss your parents, but just think of how proud they’ll be when you see them again.”

Esprit tightened her grip.

“Thanks, Declan. Thanks for reminding me of that.”

Fine, he thought. But did she think he was cute?

—————

“Isn’t he gorgeous? Seventeen hands at the withers!” Fiona gushed. A crease appeared in her riding boots as she stood up on the balls of her feet to kiss the horse’s neck. In her woolly hat and matching scarf, she looked like one of the ads he saw in his Horse & Rider magazines.

“He sure is!” agreed Declan wistfully. “Will you be riding at Devon this year?”

“I hope so,” she answered. “It depends on my next few competitions, I guess. I’ve been so involved with ballet that I haven’t been able to spend as much time as I’d like practicing with Gryff.”

“That’s your horse?”

“Yup. Well, one of them. Minnie’s the mare. ‘Gryffindor’ and ‘Minerva McGonagall’ are their full names. I love the Harry Potter books.”

Declan had read them all multiple times.

“That’s really cool. I love them too! Which one’s Minnie?” he asked, pointing to a small reddish horse, a large gray one, and an exquisite black animal in nearby stalls.

“The chestnut,” Fiona answered, walking over to her mare. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you—how’s it been going at that ‘Orphan Academy’ of yours? I mean, really going? I know you’ll be all polite with my folks at dinner tonight.”

Declan grinned.

“Well, in this case, the answer they want to hear is actually the truth. Orphan Academy is growing, bit by bit, and we’re all getting educated too. Homeschooling. It’s what my parents did with me.”

Fiona didn’t understand.

“But if there are no adults except for that Arabella woman—and you said she’s just there to cook—who does the teaching?”

“We do. Actually, this girl named Esprit’s been really helpful with that…”

—————

Jax joined the other kids in the common room as they watched RoShelle strum a fake guitar along with a music-based video game. It was a particularly cool game, and the kids had to pay lots of Orphan Academy Dollars for the privilege of playing. Jax earned a bit from doing chores, but he could have gotten much more if he’d done extra-credit schoolwork. Much as he wanted to join RoShelle, all he could do was watch.

—————

“RoShelle really did well at that game, didn’t she?” Esprit asked Declan later that evening in the common room after the others had gone to bed.

Esprit stayed up reading, and Declan stayed up pretending to read.

Actually, he was watching Esprit.

“Yeah, she did. It was good to see her having so much fun,” he said awkwardly.

“She looked like a rock star!” Esprit laughed. “And so happy!”

He didn’t say anything, but looked at his feet.

“Declan, what’s up? Are you okay?”

“You make me happy,” he whispered.

“What was that? I can barely hear you.”

He took a deep breath and walked over to the overstuffed armchair she’d curled up in, sitting on the ottoman and pulling it close to her. What was the worst she could do if she didn’t feel the same way he did? Laugh? Scream? No, he thought—she’d be kind about it…

“You make me happy, Esprit,” he repeated in a clearer tone. “For a long time, I had a crush on this other girl, but that’s over now. She’s nice and all, but we don’t have a lot in common.”

He lowered his voice.

“You understand the thing that’s most important to me. You’re a part of it. And—well—you’re beautiful too.”

It was her turn to whisper.

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

He reached up his hands to touch her soft hair, and bent to kiss her heart-shaped lips.

“Inside—and out,” he murmured…

Discontent

“What the hell are you doing, girl?” demanded RoShelle.

“What’s it look like?” countered Lakesha as she transferred her meager clothing into the well-worn trash bag she’d neglected to throw out. “Packing.”

“Are you crazy?” asked her friend bluntly.

“Probably,” acknowledged Lakesha as she looked around her beautifully appointed bedroom. “This place really is nice.”

“‘Probably?’ Try ‘definitely.’ Why do you want to leave?”

“Too many rules,” responded Lakesha.

“What? You got a problem with that pledge we had to sign? You don’t do drugs anyway. And you’re doing pretty good with the school stuff. It can’t be the chores. We had to do way more than make our beds and do the dishes at Marty’s. And he was a jerk!”

Lakesha closed the drawers and tied a knot in the trash bag, willing it not to break.

“I know he was. And I’m glad I got out. But there’s too much of a—I don’t know—a schedule here. Classes at a certain time, dinners at a certain time…”

“You’re kidding, right? You don’t have to go to the classes, and dinners are just at a certain time so the food doesn’t get cold! It’s great food too—better than that crap we used to eat!”

“And I know we don’t have to stay in here,” Lakesha went on as if RoShelle hadn’t spoken. “But it kinda feels like we should. Sometimes I just wanna take a walk…”

“You can take all the walks you want. I still don’t get why you’re leaving.”

“I dunno. I guess I can’t really explain it. I just wanna take my chances on my own.”

RoShelle reached out a hand to the other girl.

“Keesha, I’m scared for you. Scared you’re going to be back at Marty’s in a week. This place has got to be better than that at least!”

“I won’t. I promise. I’ve got an aunt in North Carolina. She works in a frozen food plant there. Maybe she can get me a job.”

“Uh huh. How you planning to get there?”

“The bus,” she answered. “I got some money saved up. I kept it a secret from Marty. I got it all figured out. Listen, tell the others I said ’bye, okay? I’ve got to go.”

Dozen

Several weeks later, at 9:30 in the morning, Esprit addressed the ten kids facing her in the brightly lit English classroom. (Karen had skipped English class as always, and was upstairs helping Arabella with the sandwiches for lunch.) Posters of Shakespeare and Great American Playwrights shared wall space with alphabet charts and grammar rule reminders (“i before e, except after c…”).

“Today’s the day, guys! Are you excited? I know I am!”

Candy yawned and Jax tried to hide his stretch as new student Eddie slurped another sip of Arabella’s excellent coffee.

“I’m looking forward to hearing all of your essays about why you came here. I’ll correct spelling and punctuation when you hand them in, but the essays themselves are the real point—letting your creative spirits fly free! We’ve got three newer members… Eddie, Fernando, or DeShawn, do any of you want to go first?”

The three boys shifted in their seats. No one had realized that reading aloud was part of the assignment.

Fifteen-year-old Eddie wasn’t sure he could stand up in front of the group and read about his abusive parents. He’d run away to escape their endless beatings—it was that or go into foster care—and had heard about Orphan Academy at Good Shepherd. He’d been living in an abandoned car before he came.

Fernando knew for sure that he couldn’t talk publicly about why he’d joined. He’d have to relive that awful night when he’d overheard his addicted parents plotting to sell his newborn sister Luz for drug money. He’d waited ’til his parents had fallen into their nightly stupor, wrapped the baby warmly against the night air, packed his own few belongings, and stolen away. After depositing baby Luz in a “Safe Haven” bassinet at the local emergency room, kissing her fervently on the forehead and praying she’d have a better life, he’d set out on his own. He’d wound up sleeping on the public library steps, and heard about Jax and Orphan Academy from a homeless guy.

DeShawn, however, was happy to start. He slouched to the front of the room, took a crumpled sheet of paper from his hip pocket, and began to read:

“I was livin under a brige with a bunch of other guys. My momma was in jail for drugs, and my daddy had got dead from an overdose. I hates drugs. I was hustlin people, tryin to get money, and I heared about this place, and I heared the food was really good and the kids was safe and all, so I decided to check it out. The End.”

DeShawn bowed to the class. He wore his jeans so low that Esprit got a good look at his underwear.

“Thanks, DeShawn,” she said, a little flustered by his brashness. “That was really—instructive. You might want to work on your grammar a bit, but overall, it was very good.”

He flashed a blinding smile.

“Thanks, Teach! Should I call you ‘Ms. Saunders’ now, or stick with ‘Esprit’ like I do at dinner?”

Esprit flushed a deep pink that Declan found strangely attractive.

“‘Ms. Saunders?’ How old do you think I am? Forty? Jeez! So who’s next?” she asked, eager for a change of topic.

Declan raised his hand.

“I’ll go, if you want. Esprit,” he added pointedly, glancing at DeShawn.

“That would be great.”

She was curious, she admitted it. Why would a boy like Declan start a place like this? She knew what Jax had told her and Davy about the dead parents and all the money, but she’d wondered about the whole story. She was especially curious now that it seemed he was her boyfriend.

Declan approached the front of the classroom, not looking at his fellow students. After a brief glance up and a quick half-smile, he began to read.

“Over a year ago when my folks died, they almost took me with them. At first, I wished they had. If you could die from being sad, I would have. All I wanted was to go with them to wherever they had gone.”

He paused to compose himself, and took a deep breath.

“But I found out that you can’t wish yourself dead, no matter how sad you are. So there had to be a reason I was still here. I went back to the Good Shepherd Soup Kitchen, where I’d volunteered with my folks, and I met Jax.”

His eyes searched the classroom for his friend.

“Jax told me about all the kids living on the street like him, just because of bad luck. I remembered what my folks always said: ‘The only difference between being rich and being poor is that, when you’re rich, you have more obligations to people who don’t have as much.’ Well, I had lots of money, but no family anymore. After talking to Jax, I got the idea for this place. It was the first happy thought I’d had since my parents died. It wasn’t me who thought of calling it ‘Orphan Academy,’ by the way—that was my folks’ lawyer. I guess it made sense to him since we’d go to school and didn’t have parents. It was a bit hard to hear, though.”

He looked at his nine fellow classmates, his lovely Esprit, their ‘teacher,’ and thought of tough-girl Karen with her eyebrow ring, who was probably baking a pie or something.

“I started and came to Orphan Academy to distract myself from losing a family,” he said quietly. “I stayed because I found another one.”

Dash

“That’s it!” hissed Marty into his cell phone, “That’s one of the kids! Do you see him?”

“I see him,” said Marty’s right-hand man. “The boy carrying the trash bag, with the big dog beside him, right?”

“That’s him,” Marty whispered. His low tone couldn’t hide his excitement. With any luck, tonight would prove to be The Night. He’d get his girls back, and a bunch of new drug runners besides.

“Where’s he going?” he asked urgently.

“Not far,” came Chico’s voice. “Just to the dumpster down the block, I think.”

“Okay, then. Let’s wait until he goes back into the house. Then we follow him and call in the others. We need to know where he lives. I think it’ll be where my girls are too. We’ll probably have to hurt him so he doesn’t tell the others we’re coming.”

“Hope so!” whispered Chico into his phone. “It’d be nice for Mick and Ramón to have something to do.”

“My gut tells me that they will tonight. And if nothing else, they’ll get to beat up that kid.”

“They’ll be glad about that. Ramón especially. The kid’s small, but he’s something.”

“Here he comes! Back to that house! Where are you guys?”

“Calm down, Boss. We’ve been watching too. We’re on it.”

—————

Galahad jogged beside Davy as the boy approached the house. He seemed to have appointed himself as Davy’s personal protector. Now that he’d accompanied the boy on a number of trash runs, the huge dog had grown accustomed to the process. He knew the cramped tunnel would come next, and then the woman would refill his bowl, and his master would give him a few treats from the big jar.

That was the routine—but something interfered with the routine tonight.

The two men—Ramón huge, extensively tattooed, and bald, and Mick, compact and wiry—darted out from behind a stack of disintegrating cardboard boxes. They followed Davy into the house so silently that even Galahad didn’t notice.

The boy opened the hall closet door on his way in. Then he touched a tarnished wall sconce and made a dusty picture of dogs playing poker swing away to reveal a keypad. He entered a code, and a door hidden by moth-eaten coats in the hall closet also swung away to reveal the entrance to a secret passageway.

Chico spoke urgently to the others in the seconds before Davy realized they knew about the hideaway.

“Ramón, I need you to hurt the kid enough so he can’t run ahead. Break his leg or something. Try not to kill him, though. You don’t need another murder arrest on your record. Do you understand?”

Ramón sighed.

“Sí, jefe. Broken leg only.”

“Now!” rasped Marty urgently.

Chico burst forth from his hiding place, Ramón and Mick following close behind. Davy couldn’t hear the men over the sound of his too-loud whistling, and before he knew what was happening, Mick had pinned his arms behind his back while Ramón was punching him in the stomach.

Davy couldn’t believe how much it hurt.

Marty huffed up.

“Hey, I thought you were going to hurt him enough so he couldn’t walk. We don’t have any time to waste.”

Ramón nodded, kicking Davy behind the kneecaps and motioning Mick to let the boy fall. Davy writhed on the ground, arms free to guard his bruised stomach at last, and dreaded what would come next.

He didn’t have long to wait.

Ramón raised his foot in its steel-toed boot and brought it down hard, directly on Davy’s left leg.

Davy’s hearing wasn’t good enough for him to make out the sound of his shinbone cracking into pieces—but he could feel it. The pain took over his whole world, crowding out all other thoughts, until he passed out a few seconds later.

Ramón checked to see that the boy’s chest was still moving, and reported to Chico.

“All done, jefe. And no kill this time!”

“Nice job, Ramón,” he said, glancing over at Davy’s prone and unconscious form. “He won’t be able to warn anyone about anything. Now let’s get going. At least that dog has disappeared. ‘Man’s best friend’—ha! Guess he took one look at you in action and ran for his life!”

—————

Galahad raced down the tunnel, following Davy’s raspy command despite the fact that he’d wanted to stay with the boy. It was so familiar by now that the dimness didn’t bother him—and in any case, his night vision was excellent. At the entrance to Orphan Academy, he reared up on his hind legs and scratched until the closest kid let him in. The sound of his barking and whining made Declan rise abruptly from the deep leather couch he was draped over, reading Horse & Rider as always.

The dog burst into the room and all but knocked his owner over.

“Galahad! What’s wrong, boy? Where’s Davy?”

As if in answer, the enormous animal almost yanked Declan’s arm off as he pulled him into the Orphan Academy office. Declan looked at the monitors of the top-of-the-line surveillance cameras Mr. Hunter had installed—the monitors Declan had promised to keep a close eye on—and saw the threat instantly. Davy lay on the abandoned house’s filthy floor, bloody and unconscious, and no fewer than four rough-looking men were entering the passage through the wide-open tunnel door.

Declan’s stomach knotted and his thoughts raced. “Oh, God… Davy… Please be okay… Esprit is going to freak OUT… Mr. Hunter was right, and I really screwed up… We have to watch those monitors twenty-four hours a day… Those guys are almost here!”

He figured that the darkness in the tunnel would slow the bad guys down a bit, as long as they didn’t find the high-powered flashlights the Orphan Academy kids kept at each end. Even so, he figured, they probably only had a few minutes before the men invaded their home. 

Declan thanked God it was early enough in the evening that he wouldn’t have to waste precious time waking the kids up. Arabella was still awake too. He could see the light in her apartment though her half-opened door—but realistically, how much help could a 60-something-year-old woman be?

He knew he’d be expected to lead their defense, and felt momentarily at a loss.

He allowed himself a few seconds of mentally cowering and crawling under his bed, then tried to figure out a plan of action.

Delay them.

That needed to be their first job. Keep the would-be attackers away for as long as possible. For starters, they’d have to block the tunnel entrance.

Declan told Jax, who’d followed him into the office, about his plan. “Use chairs, sofas, the TV—anything you can think of. Ask the new boys to help. I’m going to make sure the girls are hidden,” he said, unaware of how sexist his comments sounded.

Jax ran out immediately, gesturing to Eddie, Fernando, and DeShawn to join him as he started dragging the common room furniture toward the tunnel entrance. They were in the process of moving a couch in front of it when first one man, then a second, then a third and fourth, broke though and began to charge to the bedrooms.

Arabella blocked their path, meeting the assault with a grim smile and a raised rolling pin.

—————

Eleven against four was a good ratio, Declan thought as he hurled an egg in the face of one of his attackers. Twelve if you counted Arabella—and he did.

After all, it had been her idea to use food as a weapon. Guns and knives the thugs could handle. But squished grapes underfoot to make them fall?

The very unexpectedness of the attack worked in the kids’ favor.

The kids were all involved, too. Even Esprit, worried as she was about her brother, pelted the attackers with apples, wondering which of them had hurt Davy.

Declan’s old-world “keep the women safe” notion had backfired completely.

“That’s Marty and his guys!” hissed a white-faced Karen. “I was hoping he’d never find out about this place—but since he has, the girls and me want to give him a real welcome.”

She pulled out a butcher knife from the set on the kitchen counter, causing Declan to blanch.

“Hey, no violence, remember?”

Karen pointed toward the video image of a prone Davy.

“I don’t think they got that memo. And anyway, I’m not going to hurt anybody with the knife. Just, you know, threaten them if they come too close.”

Declan wanted to say something in return, but at that moment, a huge bald guy approached, curling his hands into fists. Eggs weren’t going to stop this dude, he thought hopelessly.

Karen whipped around and waved the butcher knife at him. Even more than the sharpened steel, the crazed look in her eyes made him turn and run.

The huge, bald thug fled from Declan and Karen straight into the ambush of Arabella and Esprit, who whacked him all over with wooden spoons and threw apples at his head.

Esperanza, RoShelle, Candy, and Tommi had teamed up against Marty, two of the girls flinging ground cayenne pepper in his face while the other two bound his flailing hands with yard upon yard of plastic wrap. Years of pent-up rage bubbled up as they fought him. Esperanza and Candy eventually had to hold back a crying Tommi, before she did more permanent damage to her former “boss.”

Declan and Karen, joined by Jax, threw together a slick and gooey mixture of olive oil and marshmallows to pour on the floor directly in the path of one attacker.

Fernando, DeShawn, and Eddie joined forces to lob a continuous stream of frozen burritos and containers of condiments at the fourth criminal. A mayonnaise jar broke his spirit at the same time it broke his nose.

The men finally decided their assault wasn’t worth it and began to retreat, hobbled and bleeding.

Galahad, covered head-to-tail in powdered sugar and barking like mad, chased them back into the tunnel.

Disbelief

This was the moment Jax had been looking forward to all day—had been dreaming about for months, actually. When Declan first told him about his idea, Jax had dismissed it, thinking the boy could never pull it off, hardly daring to imagine it could happen.

Now, though, everything was different.

A room of his own.

His own room.

This bed, that chair, the chest of drawers, the desk—all his.

No matter how he said it, it sounded wonderful.

Jax fought to stay awake just so he could enjoy it longer. The criminals that had freaked everyone else out earlier hadn’t even fazed him. He’d encountered so much worse when he slept on the library steps. It was a wonder he was alive at all…

But he’d survived, and he was here. Jax may have been skeptical at first, but he believed in Orphan Academy now.

As Declan had promised, they were warm and hidden and well-fed (although Jax reminded himself to ask Mrs. Arabella to cook something spicier once in a while).

Finally, he let himself sink back into his bed. A whole single mattress. For himself! Sheets, a blanket, and even a comforter.

And two pillows.

—————

Karen lay on her stomach in the bed in her new black-and-red room. It was nicer than any room she’d had since she’d been a little girl still living with her parents—but she missed her friends. They’d shared a scummy room at Marty’s place, six of them sleeping on thin, stained mattresses with no linens, just a moth-eaten blanket apiece. Those cots were nothing like this bed with its matching top and bottom sheet, soft woolen blanket, quilt, pillow sham, and dust ruffle.

She was so glad to be away from Marty’s place, and had been so relieved when those guys earlier tonight turned out not to be from his gang. She wished Tommi, Esperanza, RoShelle, Lakesha, and Candy were here too, though. What would they think if they could see her now?

—————

Esprit clutched one of her pillows close, holding it like a toddler with a teddy bear. Tired as she was, her eyes were wide open.

She wanted to feel relieved, but she was rattled instead. If those thieves had tried, could they have gotten in?

Esprit got up to check the door again. Maybe she’d ask that Declan kid about locks tomorrow. She’d offer to use some of those ‘Orphan Academy Dollars’ to pay for them too. That store probably didn’t have locks, but she imagined Declan could get some.

Hunched on the edge of her bed, kicking her foot back and forth, back and forth, she tried to distract herself by focusing on her new room.

It really was lovely.

All pale greens and pastel blues and soft beiges. Natural-looking off-white furniture. A few strangely shaped objects on top of the bureau—Karen had called them “shells”—she picked one up, running her fingers over the rough outer part and the smooth inside…

After a few moments, she put it down.

It was no use. She just couldn’t relax.

“I wonder how Davy is?” she suddenly thought. “Poor kid. I’ll bet he was terrified when those criminals got so close. After all, he’s almost a whole year younger than me. I really should look after him, especially on our first night. He wouldn’t ever say so, but I’ll bet he could really use the company.”

Esprit left her room, still gripping her pillow in one hand, dragging her quilt with the other…

Davy pressed close to the wall, giving Galahad room to stretch. He was so happy the dog had chosen to sleep with him tonight. Galahad was Declan’s dog, of course. Davy knew that. But Davy already loved him.

Galahad gave him courage.

And after tonight’s events, he needed it.

—————

Declan leaned back in his single bed with its two feather pillows and sighed. He missed Galahad, but Davy needed the dog more tonight.

In any case, he doubted he’d go to sleep anytime soon. He couldn’t stop smiling.

Amazing.

Absolutely amazing, he thought. Just under a year ago, this building had been just another abandoned warehouse, like so many others in this area. Now, it would be a refuge for a few of the city’s teens who found themselves alone, but didn’t have the shield of money and all the safety it could buy to protect them.

Protectors.

He stopped smiling.

He missed them so much.

“Mom, Dad,” he whispered into the dark. “I really hope you can see this, wherever you are. Is it okay? I did it because of you.”

—————

“It’s a good thing you had to come in today to sign papers. We haven’t seen much of you,” Malcolm chided Declan gently. “I thought you were going to stop by for dinner once a week. We’ve missed you. All of us.”

The back of Declan’s neck grew hot. He wondered if that included Fiona.

He wished Mr. Hunter wouldn’t look at him so closely. Under his unblinking gaze, Declan got up and started to wander around the office. The Oriental rugs, antique loveseat, wide mahogany desk, and bottle green leather club chairs reminded him of his dad’s office at the estate.

“You know Arabella calls me, don’t you?” Malcolm was saying.

“I know,” said Declan.

“I’m not really checking up on you, but…”

Declan grinned.

The lawyer returned the boy’s smile, and threw up his hands.

“Fine, then. Of course I’m checking up on you. I want to know how you’re doing. And I have to say, I’m glad to see that Arabella is feeding you.”

In fact, Malcolm noted, Declan looked healthier—and happier—than at any time since before his parents died.

“Well, it’s been close to a month now. So tell me, how’s it going?”

Declan sat down again, facing the lawyer, nerves forgotten.

“Oh, Mr. Hunter, it’s so great! I really wish I could open it to every kid who‘s living on the streets, but my friend Jax helped me understand that I can’t, because of crime and mental illness and addiction and stuff.”

Malcolm silently thanked God for Jax.

“But I think it’s good for the kids who are there. Figuring out the homeschooling thing has been the hardest part. When my folks were alive—” he stopped speaking for a few seconds, and Malcolm tactfully looked away.

“When my folks were alive,” Declan continued in a stronger voice, “They always had a plan for lessons and tests and studying and stuff. With us mostly teaching ourselves, though, it’s a lot less strict, you know? And there are so few of us, too. I set up the schedule for what we need to learn each week, but these kids don’t seem to like schedules much. I’m trying to ‘teach’ a little, like my parents did for me, but I’m not really that good at it. There’s a girl named Esprit, though, who’s turned out to be great! She and her little brother Davy moved in right at the beginning. They grew up in a ‘squatter house.’ D’you know what they are?”

Malcolm did, but he liked to hear Declan talk, especially when he was this animated. God knows, he couldn’t get two civil words out of his own teenager.

“I read a little about them years ago,” he said. “But I could certainly use a refresher.”

“Well,” said Declan. “They’re, like, abandoned houses—the people have moved out, the water’s been turned off, there’s no heat or electricity or anything. From what Esprit told me, all kinds of people live in them—poor people, hippies, you name it. Her folks lived in them because of politics. They don’t believe in government or capitalism at all.”

Ah, thought Malcolm. Anarchists.

“Fascinating,” he said neutrally. “So what happened to them?”

Declan leaned even farther forward. “The police arrested them! For trespassing! Can you believe?”

Malcolm could easily believe. There was an initiative at City Hall these days. They were cracking down on squatters.

“So their folks are in prison now, and Esprit and Davy had been living on the streets and in a shelter sometimes—they started going to Good Shepherd, that’s where I met them. So they came to live at Orphan Academy. Oh, and guess what? He’s half-deaf from a sickness he had when he was a baby, but it turns out that Davy’s a math whiz!”

“Well, that’s wonderful. I wish you could get credit for all this schoolwork, but the state’s pretty rigid about that… How are you on supplies? Arabella says you’ll need more soon.”

“Yup. Especially coffee. We way underestimated on that. We all drink about five cups a day—even Davy—and he’s only thirteen!”

Declan looked up for a moment, trying to remember something.

“There was one other thing I wanted to talk to you about—what was it?—it’s important too—oh, that’s right,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Trash.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Trash. It’s the one thing we didn’t think about, and it’s a really big thing. We’re still a small group, but we’ve already got a bunch of bags… and we’re not exactly on the trash men’s route or anything, being that we don’t have an address. We’ve been putting the bags out in the courtyard, which is okay now when it’s cold, but it’s gonna get really smelly in the springtime.”

“Hmm,” put in Malcolm. “You’re entirely right about that. Let’s think about this for a minute… I seem to remember seeing a dumpster down the block from that old house you had me buy for the entrance to the tunnel. Could you dispose of the trash bags there?”

“That’s a great idea!” Declan beamed. “It could be like a chore—taking out the trash!”

Malcolm privately thought “taking out the trash” would stop seeming exciting after about a week. He did it regularly, and there was nothing adventurous about it.

Declan privately thought “taking out the trash” would be a great way for the kids to earn Orphan Academy Dollars. And it sounded kind of adventurous too.

—————

Defection

There was no question about it. Jax absolutely loved his new home at Orphan Academy. As Declan had promised, the warehouse was hidden in plain sight, and Mrs. Arabella was an incredible cook. He’d never eaten so well in his life, and she even made some spicier dishes just for him on occasion.

His bedroom was terrific too. He loved falling asleep under the down comforter with his two feather pillows and springy mattress. He’d added a few things—the 76ers team photo, a poster of the South African soccer team, and a large Haitian flag—to personalize it. It was good that he didn’t need a lot of stuff, though, since he’d spent most of his Orphan Academy Dollars on new clothes, and it didn’t look like he’d be earning a lot more from extra credit schoolwork.

Studying was tough.

It wasn’t so much the language barrier—Jax may have played up the “broken English” angle with the tourists on South Street, but he was actually pretty fluent—as it was his own personality. He’d had the same problems with school back in Haiti.

He didn’t like classes and he didn’t like to study. The only subject he kind of enjoyed was science, astronomy especially. It was cool to learn more about the planets and stars. He used to go down to the ocean at night back home, lying on the sand and staring up at the sky. Studying astronomy made him feel better. His life may have changed entirely, but the stars were still the same.

He missed his family, though.

Oddly enough, he missed his street friends too. He didn’t need to con drunk tourists anymore, but part of him missed that life, the utter freedom of it.

Declan had promised him that no one would be a “prisoner” at Orphan Academy, and one Saturday, he decided to test that. He wanted to see his old buddies.

Somewhat sheepishly, he confessed his plan to his partner in South Street adventures, Karen Toth. He half-expected her to give him a lecture on why he should never ever go back.

Instead, she joined him.

—————

“Hey, could you slow down, maybe? You’re about a foot taller than me!” Karen called to Jax as he strode down the streets that used to be the only home he had.

Jax stopped and waited for the angry-looking girl to catch up.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize how fast I was going,” he said as they strolled through the frigid city at a more leisurely pace.

“Check it,” she said, pointing at a pizza place with a gloved hand. “Maybe we should get a slice at Joe’s later. For old times’ sake, y’know?”

“Sure,” he agreed. “Just one, though. Mrs. Arabella said she’s making barbequed spareribs tonight!” 

“I know,” replied Karen with just a hint of smugness. “I helped her make the sauce—and I added a little extra cayenne pepper for you.”

She grinned suddenly, and Jax saw the other girl inside her—the happy one.

He leaned in to her, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a few familiar faces.

“Hey, look over there. Isn’t that RoShelle and Esperanza?”

The two girls were standing on a street corner a block or so away, but it was still early, so Karen didn’t feel bad about interrupting them. She ran up the street in her new black leather boots and all but tackled the other girls.

“’Ranza! Shelly!” she cried as she hugged them each in turn. “Man, I’ve missed you guys! How’s everything? How’re Candy and Lakesha and Tommi? Has Marty turned the heat on yet?”

“We’re—”

“It’s—”

“Do you guys want to go to Joe’s for a slice? My treat. Oh, this is my friend Jax. I think you met him once or twice before. We live together now.”

Esperanza’s overly plucked eyebrows rose, and she looked at the Haitian boy appreciatively.

“Congrats, girl!”

Jax felt his cheeks get hot, and thanked God his complexion wouldn’t show a blush.

“Oh, it’s not like that,” Karen laughed. “I mean, we both live at that place I told you about. It’s called ‘Orphan Academy.’ ‘Academy’ because we have to go to school, I guess—that part’s pretty lame—but Jax was right. It’s safe. From the outside, it just looks like an abandoned warehouse, but inside, it’s really cool.” Jax was violently shaking his head. “Oh, wait—I’m not supposed to tell you that. Keep it quiet, okay?  C’mon, let’s go to Joe’s and catch up where it’s warm. I’m freakin’ freezing out here!”

Esperanza and RoShelle exchanged glances. It was only around forty degrees out. Karen must’ve gotten used to living in a place where the heat got turned on even before it snowed.

—————

“This is the place Karen told us about,” whispered Esperanza to the others early one Sunday morning a week later.

“Are you sure?” asked Candy, twirling a strand of dyed blonde hair as she looked at the clearly deserted house with its boarded-up windows and graffiti-marked door. “And why are you whispering, anyway? We’re the only ones stupid enough to be up this early.”

“Candy’s right about that, anyway,” said Lakesha through a yawn. “What is it? 8:00 a.m. or something? Man, I need coffee! Or to go back to bed…”

“Hold up, girls. You all wanted to get away from Marty’s place. And we agreed that we had to leave early since Marty would still be sleeping off Saturday night. You know he won’t even wake up ’til after noon. And this is for sure the house Karen mentioned. Right, Shelly?”

“Yeah,” replied the African-American girl whose newsboy cap didn’t quite cover her huge gold earrings shaped like triangles. “This is the place alright. She talked about a tunnel too, starting in a closet or something.”

RoShelle looked around. They’d gone into the house, each dragging a green plastic bag full of clothes, and she eyed the cobwebs, broken appliances, and piles of animal droppings in the corners with distaste.

“I hope that tunnel goes someplace better than this, though. Hell, even Marty’s house is better than this—and that’s saying something!”

“You told us Karen said it was really nice, right?” chimed in Tommi. The youngest of the girls at twelve, Tommi looked like a miniature version of Karen, right down to the pierced eyebrow and multiple tattoos. “She said everyone would have their own room, and there was a lady who cooked all this great food and we’d be safe and no one could ever find us, right? I think it sounds amazing. We just need to figure out where the entrance to the tunnel is.”

Suddenly, Esperanza put a finger to her lips, imploring the younger girl to be quiet.

“Shut up!” she hissed. “Did you hear that?”

All the girls looked toward the coat closet in the hallway. It sounded alive. They listened, helpless and terrified, as the muffled sounds became louder and louder, and finally an older woman emerged from behind the door.

“Blimey!” she said in an English accent as she regarded the five girls. “What’s this, then? Are you by any chance Karen’s friends? She mentioned you. My name’s Arabella Hodges. And who might you be?”

The older lady clearly wasn’t about to say anything else until she confirmed their identities. One by one, as if trying to pass a test, they spoke.

“I’m Esperanza,” announced the obvious leader of the group, who wore skintight jeans, five-inch heels, and way too much eye makeup for a Sunday morning. “Karen calls me ‘’Ranza,’ though.”

“My name’s RoShelle,” added a curvy girl with a broad smile and an outstretched hand. “Karen calls me ‘Shelly’ sometimes. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Candy,” put in the only white girl in the group, a bottle blonde who looked freezing in her red vinyl miniskirt. “Glad to know you!”

“Lakesha here,” added another African-American girl, this one tall and skinny, with natural-looking hair in cornrows. She didn’t hold out her hand to be shaken.

“And I’m Tommi. Tommi Hernandez,” said the last girl, who barely came up to Arabella’s shoulder. Tommi could have been Karen’s little sister, Arabella noted. “Karen told us about you. You must be the lady who cooks so good.”

Arabella chuckled at that.

“Well, I try, girls. I try. In fact, I was just on my way out to do the shopping for the week. The children sleep late on Sunday mornings, and we’re running low on lots of things. How about if I take you in before I go out, though? Declan was awake when I left. He runs the place, and he’ll be able to explain the set-up and the rules to you. Oh, you’re none of you addicts or criminals, are you?”

All of the girls were taken aback by this proper-seeming woman asking that question so casually. Esperanza was the quickest to overcome her discomfort.

“No, Ma’am. None of us is on drugs, and we’ve never been convicted of a crime either.” She’d carefully used the word “convicted” instead of “arrested.”

“Wonderful! Right, then,” Arabella said cheerfully, indicating the dim tunnel entrance. “Let’s go!”

The five girls followed Arabella through the back wall of the closet and into the earthen tunnel. Everyone but Tommi had to stoop.

On the other side, Arabella found Declan in the Orphan Academy office, reading the latest issue of Horse & Rider with his back to the monitors. If he’d been looking at them, he’d have known what was coming…

“Some more children have arrived,” she told him as the girls waited in the common room, staring dumbstruck at their surroundings. “They know our Karen. Would you like to greet them, tell them about the pledge?”

“Absolutely! This is fantastic. The word’s finally starting to get out! You said ‘children,’ plural. So that has to mean two!”

Arabella smiled serenely.

“It means five, actually. Well, I’m off to do the shopping.”

She waved to an open-mouthed Declan a little devilishly on her way out.

—————

At dinner that night, Declan tried to engage Candy in conversation, but she appeared to be far more interested in the dinner Arabella had cooked…

“So, what room did you pick?” he asked when she paused for breath.

Candy wiped some sauce off her chin.

“I had a hard time deciding! I really liked some of the artsy ones, and the snowboarding one too, but in the end I chose the animal one. Some of the decorations seem like they’re for younger girls, but it has real live rabbits! I’ve always wanted rabbits! How about you?” she inquired. She knew Declan lived here as well as being in charge.

“I picked a room with the horse and dog pictures,” he responded. “I like horses and dogs. I’ve never had rabbits, but

I’d probably like them too…”

————-

RoShelle sat next to Jax, closing her eyes as she ate forkful after forkful of mashed potatoes.

“How does that white woman—an English white woman, too—know how to cook so good? These potatoes are better than my grandmother’s!”

Jax added another rib bone to the growing pile on his plate.

“Mrs. Arabella has about three hundred cookbooks. When she’s not cooking, she’s reading about cooking. Italian food, Chinese food, Greek food, all kinds of American food… she even makes special recipes for me out of her Haitian cookbook. I don’t think there’s anything she can’t cook.”

“Oh, man, I’m gonna gain fifty pounds!”

—————

Esprit had taken Esperanza under her wing, though the two couldn’t have looked more different. Esprit reasoned that Esperanza, despite her tough-girl exterior, must be as scared as she had been on her first night.

“So which room did you choose?” she asked Esperanza when the girl finally appeared to pause between bites.

Esperanza was oddly tongue-tied in front of this curly-haired innocent.

“The one with gold and silver and movie posters,” she said haltingly. Then she blurted out, as if she couldn’t help it, “My own room! In-freakin’-credible!”

“I know!” laughed Esprit. “I felt the exact same way when I first got here. In fact, I couldn’t even sleep at first, because I wasn’t used to being in a room by myself. If you want to know the truth,” Esprit leaned in. “I was pretty scared that first night.”

Esperanza relaxed at that.

“I’ll probably be that way too. I’ve never had my own room. Not here, not back in Puerto Rico.”

“And that’s not the only thing we have in common. ‘Esprit’ and ‘Esperanza’ kind of sound the same too!”

Esperanza paused between mouthfuls of sparerib to consider this. “You’re right. They kinda do. My nickname’s ‘’Ranza,’” though. How ’bout you?”

“Well, my brother calls me ‘Bree.’ Does that count?”

“Sure,” said Esperanza. “Hey, what do you think that English lady made for dessert?…”

—————

Lakesha ate in companionable silence with Davy. In his near-muteness, she sensed a kindred spirit—and she liked dogs too. Galahad seemed to have decided she was okay. After sniffing her thoroughly, he’d lain on the rug between her and Davy…

—————

Karen asked Tommi, “So are you glad you came here?”

“Yeah, I am! I mean, it’s a really cool place and the food’s amazing, just like you said, but it’d be enough just to be away from Marty.”

“Will he be really mad, do you think?” Karen asked in a low tone. “I keep thinking about it.”

“Probably,” answered Tommi, taking another slice of homemade cherry pie. “But this place seems really hidden, with the tunnel and all. It’s just like you told us. In fact, it’s even better!”

Karen tried to smile at that, and be encouraged.

Marty could never find them.

Could he?

—————

Marty regarded the empty, cold coffee pot, bemused. The girls knew he liked coffee in the morning—hell, they knew how he liked his coffee in the morning. “Where the hell are they?” he thought. “They ought to know by now what happens if I don’t get my coffee…”

“Esperanza! RoShelle!” he called out to his two oldest girls.

No answer.

He hurried into the dormitory-style bedroom. He ignored the beds, as they would tell him nothing at this hour (the girls should all be out working), and flung open the door to the single closet.

It was entirely bare.

No clothes. No shoes. No nothing.

Nothing that tied any of the girls to the house.

In his bare feet and a bathrobe that stretched over his paunch, Marty raged. Karen leaving had been bad enough, but all of them?! What the hell?

—————

Three long days later, Marty was cruising South Street, looking for new recruits, when he saw Karen unexpectedly. She appeared to be heading to Joe’s Pizzeria with a black boy.

Karen had made him a lot of money. He decided to follow her.

He took care to stay out of sight as he trailed her down increasingly deserted streets. She and her friend entered an ancient, decrepit house. Were they squatting there?

Marty decided to keep watching the house before doing anything. Over the next several weeks, he observed a preppy-looking kid, a hippyish girl, a smaller white kid, and Karen’s friend, the black boy with the braids, coming and going. Although the dilapidated and dirty house appeared to be their base of operations, all the kids looked clean.

Marty realized that house couldn’t possibly have running water. It must be a front for a better place, and if Karen lived there, chances were his other girls did too…

Doorway

“So tomorrow’s the big day?” inquired Malcolm.

Declan swallowed his mouthful of Cornish game hen.

“Yes, sir.”

The older man regarded the boy across the antique cherry table.

“You’ve put a lot of time and thought into this. Does it look the way you imagined?”

The last of the workmen had left just yesterday. For months, the abandoned warehouse that Malcolm had selected as the site for Orphan Academy had seen a stream of carpenters, electricians, plumbers, security system installers, computer and cable experts, painters, delivery people, and more.

“Are you serious, sir?” enthused Declan. “It’s amazing! Way better than I’d ever hoped! I think the kids are going to really like it! And I have to thank Fiona especially,” he added shyly, not looking in the girl’s direction. “The décor is incredible. Oh, and Mrs. Hunter too, of course.”

Constance Hunter nodded absentmindedly. She’d been regarding the thumbnail on her right hand—was that a chip in her manicure she saw?—instead of paying attention to the conversation. Fiona, however, couldn’t hide her smile.

“Glad you approve. It was a lot of fun to choose all the stuff for every room—all twenty of them! I never would’ve thought shopping could make you tired! So what about you? Are you really going to move in, or will you stay at your folks’ place?”

Declan stopped with his water goblet halfway to his lips.

“Of course I’ll move in,” he answered, too surprised to be flustered. “I’m staying there as of tomorrow. My friend Jax will be moving in then too, as well as a couple of other kids he asked. I thought I’d spend one last night at my house, though. It’d be kind of creepy to sleep in a place that big by myself, even with Galahad. That’s my dog,” he added to Constance.

Fiona noticed how relaxed and happy Declan was when he talked about Orphan Academy. She hoped it turned out the way he wanted…

“So, what room are you planning to take? No, wait—let me guess!”

She closed her eyes.

“Not the one with the train mural on the walls. Too young. And you don’t seem to be that into sports, so that takes the Phillies, Eagles, Flyers, and 76ers rooms out of contention. Do you like hard rock? Maybe the rock ‘n’ roll room, then—but I don’t quite see it. The safari room and the Caribbean room don’t seem to be your cup of tea either. So that leaves the green-and-brown room with all the antique military prints, and the blue-and-maroon room with the horse and dog pictures.”

She thought for a moment.

“I’m going with that last one.”

“How did you know?” asked an astonished Declan.

She looked at his dog-hair-covered messenger bag in the corner with its Horse & Rider magazines spilling out.

“Lucky guess.”

Malcolm pushed away his coffee cup and wiped his mouth on a linen napkin.

“Fiona, I had no idea you were so involved with this… I thought you were just buying paint and sheets and lamps and things. But themes! And pictures! Good God—what did you do for the girls’ rooms?”

He thought of something suddenly, and turned to Declan.

“The girls’ rooms and the boys’ rooms are separate, right?”

The boy grinned.

“Absolutely, sir.”

“Oh, I had way more fun with those, Dad. A couple of rooms for younger girls—a pink and purple princess-y one, a petting zoo one with a life-sized stuffed ostrich and a couple of real live bunnies that Declan’s dog will probably eat, a kitten room with toys and figurines and posters. A ballet-themed bedroom, of course—that was easy—there’s so much ballet stuff out there. Heck, all I had to do was recreate my own room!” Fiona laughed. “You’d think I got enough of toe shoes in class!”

Constance nodded approvingly. All that dancing kept the girl thin, after all.

“Let’s see,” Fiona was saying. “I did a movie-themed bedroom with lots of metallic silver and gold and soundstage-type lighting, then there are a couple of design periods represented—Art Deco and 60’s Mod—for the older girls. A goth room, obviously. That was the easiest to do—just get everything in black or blood red. That’s—eight, right? What else? Oh, that’s right—I did a beach room—that was cool, all in shades of beige and pale green and light blue. Furniture painted to look like driftwood, shells on the bureau, that sort of thing. And finally, a skiing/snowboarding room—mostly white, naturally, along with some splashes of bright yellow and blue and red to go with the posters.”

Malcolm just shook his head.

“Unbelievable.”

“And that’s not all I did,” Fiona bragged, and Declan was afraid she’d tell her father about the Orphan Academy currency. Not that it would be so terrible if Mr. Hunter found out, he thought. It was just that he’d asked her, specially, to keep it quiet…

When she’d shown him the bills, he’d been amazed by how official they looked. There were three distinct designs, each a different color, each with a different central image illustrating the simple motto Declan had come up with: “Stronger Together.” Pale blue “ones” showed a grove of trees bending to the wind, off-white “fives,” a flock of birds in flight, and soft gold “tens,” a pack of wolves in winter…

Fiona wasn’t referring to the money after all, though. “These kids will have been living on the street, so Declan told me to assume they didn’t really have anything. I bought all kinds of clothes in tons of different sizes, shampoo, conditioner, scented lotion, shower gel, loofahs, makeup, nail polish, hair product, the works!”

Malcolm chuckled at that. He thought to himself that plain old soap would have been more than fine, and he wondered what sort of outfits she’d selected for the unsuspecting teens. If her own wardrobe was any indication, the girls would all be waltzing around in plaid miniskirts and cashmere cardigans.

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate it,” he told his daughter, suppressing a smile, before turning to Declan.

“So you and Galahad will be spending one last night at your parents’ house?” he said.

“Well, assuming I can sleep!”

—————

On the steps of the public library, Jax burrowed deeper under the three heavy coats he’d bought from a thrift store. It was cold, and he was glad—so glad—that tomorrow night, he’d be inside and warm.

—————

Karen tossed and turned in her creaky metal cot, relentlessly wakeful, and looked at the five other girls who shared her room. Esperanza, Tommi, RoShelle, Lakesha, and Candy. Could she really leave them tomorrow? She’d told them about Orphan Academy, but they were all too afraid to make a change, even a change for the better.

But when she thought of Marty, and his watery eyes that had started to follow her every move lately, Karen knew she’d made the right decision. Tomorrow night, she’d be away from him…

—————

The dormitory of the shelter was almost too hot, thought Esprit. But nonetheless, she and Davy slept—or tried to—with their coats on. And even though it contained nothing of value, Davy kept a tight grip on his backpack.

Esprit looked around at the people. She tried not to be, knew it was wrong to be, but still, she was scared.

“Tomorrow night,” she whispered into Davy’s good ear, “We’ll be safe.”

Discovery

Arabella glanced around the gleaming, state-of-the-art kitchen with approval. Inspecting cupboards and cabinets, she became convinced that young Fiona and Mrs. Hunter had selected the kitchen equipment. She couldn’t imagine Declan thinking of muffin tins or springform pans.

It was a pretty close replica of the kitchen from the estate, and Arabella was delighted to find cutting boards, a pizza wheel, food processor, bread machine, ice cream maker, rolling pin, mandolin slicer, measuring cups, and knife collection right where they’d always been.

The pantry was stocked. The refrigerator too. She was positively itching to cook.

“Let’s see,” she said, looking at her watch. “It’s barely 11:00 a.m. now. How about if I whip you two boys up some lunch? And how many do you think we’ll be for dinner?”

“That sounds great,” answered Declan, “But you might want to wait a couple of hours on lunch.” Looking over at Jax, he confirmed, “You said that girl Karen was coming early this afternoon, and the brother and sister later, right?”

Jax nodded.  

“So that’ll make three for lunch and five for dinner tonight, Arabella, if we don’t get any drop-ins.”

He asked Jax over his shoulder, “Do you think that’s likely?”

“Probably not. Kids will need to enter through the tunnel, which means going to the old house first… my guess is that it’ll take some time for kids to learn the system well enough that they can spread the word.”

“Okay,” Declan said. “Hey, what room did you pick? I called dibs on the dogs-and-horses one…”

Jax tried to sound nonchalant. He was still getting used to all the “stuff” that Declan took for granted.

“Well, I really like basketball, so I almost took the 76ers room, but in the end, I went with the Caribbean one. That palm tree wallpaper is what got me. It reminds me of home. Well, what home used to look like, anyway…”

Jax’s face clouded over, and Galahad decided that he needed to jump on the boy, knocking him down and licking his face, at that very moment. Within seconds, Jax was laughing, sad mood forgotten…

—————

“You’re our first girl,” announced Declan, “So you get first pick of bedrooms.”

Karen walked ahead with Jax. She didn’t understand what difference it made.  A place to sleep was a place to sleep, as far as she was concerned. As long as she couldn’t actually see the roaches, she was okay.

“They’re all different,” Jax whispered. “Just pick one you like, quickly—Mrs. Arabella’s made lunch!”

“Who’s ‘Arabella?’ Weird name,” Karen answered, bemused by all the rooms she had to choose from. Every one was individualized too, just as Jax said.

“She was Declan’s cook or housekeeper or something. I’m not really sure. All I know is she’s going to live here now, and she isn’t nosy, and she can really cook, if the smell of that soup’s any sign!”

“Cook? Housekeeper? Man, that Declan kid really is rich. You’re right about the soup, by the way. It sure does smell good,” she said as she sniffed. She stretched her arm towards a bedroom door, indicating the mostly black ‘goth’ room.

“Here. I’d like to sleep here.”

Jax smiled.

“Why am I not surprised?”

Karen punched him on the arm as she followed him to the kitchen—with just the three of them, they’d eat there. Arabella filled their soup bowls with creamy tomato bisque, and added grilled cheese and bacon sandwiches on sourdough bread to each plate. Karen though she’d died and gone to heaven (and wondered how Arabella kept everything hot). Jax was simply amazed. He knew Declan wasn’t religious, so they didn’t say grace before the meal, but he said a private prayer of thanksgiving all the same.

—————

After lunch, the two boys gave Karen the full tour.

“This is where we’ll eat when more kids join,” Declan said, pointing to a long table in a separate room off the kitchen. “And here’s the common area, for people to hang out together if they want, play video games, watch movies, that kind of thing.”

Karen’s eyes went wide beneath their heavy layer of black eyeliner, causing her eyebrow ring to shoot upward. Relaxing. Having fun. What would it be like not to work and worry all the time? She could barely imagine it.

“Do you mean to tell me that we don’t need to do anything but chill out?” she asked suspiciously, looking for a catch.

“Not quite,” put in Jax. “We have to do chores and study and do homework and stuff. Didn’t you read that pledge you signed?”

“Not word-for-word,” retorted Karen in a snippy tone, covering her near-illiteracy with aggression as always.

She’d known it—there was a catch.

She crossed her arms.

“How can this place be secret if we have to go out to school?” she sneered.

Declan grinned.

“I’ll show you. C’mon!”

They stopped in front of what Karen had assumed was a non-working freight elevator—but Declan pressed a button, and the three of them filed in.

After a very short (and very creaky) ride, the elevator doors opened on what looked like a small, well-equipped school. Each classroom featured desks, a whiteboard, posters of things like state capitals, world maps, and the periodic table of elements, plus a computer at every desk.

Karen secretly liked the art studio with its colorful paintings and seemingly endless variety of supplies. When Declan proudly indicated another room with different-sized balls hanging from the ceiling, however, she blurted out, “What the hell are those?”

“Planets!” responded Declan cheerfully, flipping a switch to turn out the lights so she could take in the glow-in-the-dark stars.

“That’s pretty amazing, man. I hadn’t seen that.”

“Glad you like it, Jax,” he said as they walked down the hall. “Oh, this room is the library. I tried to get stuff at every level, because I don’t know how much school everyone’s had…”

Karen walked right past the room—the sight of all those books made her nervous.

“What’s that?” she asked loudly as she pointed to a large room with big display windows in front. Mannequins sporting brand-new clothes held small electronic devices and makeup kits stiffly. “It looks like a—store?”

“That’s exactly right!” replied Declan. “Whatever you need, you can find right here. Clothes, shampoo, games, MP3 players, posters for your room, you name it.”

“Let me guess,” Karen said skeptically. “It’s all free, right?”

“Oh, no,” said Declan. “Everything’s got a price tag. You pay for stuff using special money that’s only good here.”

The girl just stared at him.

“They’re called ‘Orphan Academy Dollars’—‘Orphan Academy’ is kind of the unofficial name for this place—and they come in $1s, $5s, and $10s. Everyone gets $500 in Orphan Academy Dollars when they move in, and you can earn more by finishing chores and going to class and stuff. It was all in that pledge you signed…”

—————

“This smells wonderful!” Esprit said, marveling at the thick, fragrant liquid she’d poured into one hand. With the other, she uncapped another bottle and sniffed deeply.

“What’s the matter?” asked Karen. “Haven’t you ever seen shampoo and conditioner before?”

“Not really,” answered Esprit dreamily as she buried her face in one of the snow-white towels. “We mostly just used soap when we found a place where the water still worked… do you know how these knobs operate?” she asked, indicating the hot and cold water controls for the shower. “I’d really like to try this.”

She’d been on the verge of asking where Esprit had lived before, but Karen stopped herself in the face of the grimy girl’s enthusiasm. Questions could wait—and besides, she wanted to see what Arabella was making for dinner.

—————

Davy curled up on top of the dark red down comforter in his new room, clutching his mostly empty backpack. He hadn’t realized he and Esprit would be separated in this place. He’d never had a room of his own—ever. It was pretty lonely. He and Esprit would be together in the daytime, at meals and during “classes,” and they could hang out in the evenings like before. But what about when it was time to go to sleep?

He burrowed under the comforter, turning on his stomach to try to see what it would feel like that night. It wasn’t long before he sat up again.

His eye fell on a group of painted metal toy soldiers on a shelf above the bed, and he reached for one, addressing it too loudly in the quiet room.

“I’ll bet you wouldn’t be afraid, would you? And after all, I’m thirteen—not a kid or anything.”

He replaced the toy soldier and turned away from the shelf, ashamed of himself as he started to cry.

After a few minutes, Davy’s fears seemed to be confirmed as his door began to inch open.

He didn’t dare to move.

Didn’t have time to hide.

It was just Galahad, though. Davy had met him earlier today. Knew he belonged to Declan and was kind of the mascot of the place.

The enormous dog jumped right up on the bed, taking up at least three-fourths of the space and pressing himself as close to the boy as possible.

Davy didn’t mind a bit.

—————

Davy and Esprit flopped down on the wraparound couch, Galahad between them.

Davy still had a hard time believing the girl across from him was his sister. What was that different about her, though? He checked off an imaginary list in his mind:

-          Clean hair

-          Clean face

-          Clean clothes

Amazing what a difference some hot water could make, he thought…

“I really like it here,” announced Esprit. “I mean, the place is great, and all the people so far seem nice too… well,” she said, looking over her shoulder, “All except that girl Karen. I’m not sure about her yet. Still, she did show me how to use the washer and dryer earlier…”

She looked fondly at her brother. One of his hands patted Galahad’s side as the dog reclined against him.

“I was going to ask how you liked it so far, but you seem to be doing just fine—you’ve made at least one friend already!” she smiled. “What’s he called?”

Davy forced himself to whisper. He’d learned that if he remembered to do that, it sounded quiet enough to be normal speech.

“Galahad,” he said, and no one even glanced in his direction. Emboldened, he added, “He belongs to Declan, but he seems to like me too. Don’t you, Galahad?” he croaked.

The dog thumped his tail at the sound of his name, and raised his head to be patted.

“I’m glad,” said Esprit. She wasn’t jealous of her brother’s canine protector. Not really. Ever since the mugging, though, she’d been jumping at shadows. And as nice as her room was, there was no lock on the door.

“Davy,” she asked without thinking, “Do you really think we’ll be safe here?”

He looked suddenly terrified, and she could have kicked herself.

“I mean, I’m sure it’s fine—just first-night jitters, that’s all…”

Davy stood up and proceeded to walk around the entire building, Galahad at his heels. He checked the locks on the doors to the tunnel, the outside courtyard, and the fake wall that divided Orphan Academy from the broken green glass panes that made up half the warehouse.

Just as he was about to tell Esprit that all was well, he heard voices from the other side of the fake wall.

“Do you think they saw us?”

 

“No way, man. We were too quick, and those broken windows were just the right height. Just don’t move much, okay?”

 

Galahad heard the voices too, and began to bark like crazy, pawing at the door that led to the other side of the wall.

Karen, Jax, and Esprit joined Davy as Declan ran up and held a finger to his lips. Galahad continued to bark.

“Holy crap—what was that?! I don’t care if the cops find us. Let’s get out of here! This place is possessed!”

Karen, Jax, Esprit, Davy, and Declan listened alongside the whining Galahad as the two criminals hoisted themselves through a broken windowpane.

They knew the locks were strong, but those sounds had been really close…

Design

Declan had decided to take a year off from the rigorous homeschooling regimen he was used to so he could get Orphan Academy off the ground. He was sure his parents would approve.

He looked on as the architect and the construction foreman poked in corners and craned their necks toward the ceiling.

“Remarkable old building,” pronounced the architect at last. “I think it will more than accommodate your needs, based on my blueprint.”

Declan’s handwritten diagrams from his notebook had long since been refined.

Malcolm nodded his approval, reflecting again that money talked. Asking an award-winning architect to draw up plans based on the scribblings of a young teenager had been a tough sell, but when Malcolm proposed a high enough figure, the architect ran out of objections (and schedule conflicts).

Once Malcolm had decided to come out in favor of Orphan Academy, he’d gone out of his way to demonstrate his commitment to the idea, even agreeing to Declan’s sabbatical.

Abandoned warehouse? Check. (Malcolm even found one on an old Underground Railroad property, thinking there might be a secret tunnel or something). Utilities in his name? Check. Supplies of all types? Check. He took out a special credit card for Orphan Academy.

Arabella was insisting on being the live-in cook at the school/home/halfway house, and Malcolm hoped Declan would give in to her request. The kids would need an adult, and Declan had been adamant about not letting Malcolm play a more active role.

“These kids don’t trust adults,” he’d said, parroting Jax. “It’s great that you want to be involved, but it has to be behind the scenes.”

But Malcolm’s support of Orphan Academy did come with a few conditions.

The security system, for one thing, would have done the FBI proud.

—————

Declan ladled “beef” stroganoff (mystery meat in an equally mysterious brown sauce over soggy egg noodles) onto plastic plates handed to him by the patrons of Good Shepherd. When he noticed Jax’s familiar short braids, he asked his supervisor if he could take a 10-minute break and hurried over to join his friend.

Jax pushed the noodles around on his plate, pausing every now and again to take a bite of bread. He was hungry—he’d eaten the meat first thing—but he was putting off the noodles.

“Declan!” he exclaimed as the boy sat down. “How’ve you been, man? I haven’t seen you for awhile.”

“Well, I’ve been kind of busy, Jax. I’ve got lots of stuff to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Remember that idea I had? For a place where kids without families could go?”

Jax raised his eyebrows.

“Sure I remember, man. But I thought you’ve given up on that a while back. No offense or anything, but it was a bit—what’s the word in English?—stupid.”

Declan’s face split into a grin, and Jax felt a momentary twinge of envy. Even Declan’s perfect teeth said “money.”

“Well, that ‘stupid idea’ of mine has really come to life—or started to, anyway. I’d love for you to see it.”

“For real, man? You have a place and everything?”

“For real. But hopefully you can tell me how to make it better.”

—————

In the end, Jax’s curiosity got the better of him and he agreed to accompany his friend. He waited for Declan to finish his shift, and the two boys walked for about half a mile, Declan pushing his bike.

Declan stopped outside an enormous old warehouse that featured rusted steel sheeting and broken windows. The “grounds” consisted of a few scraggly bushes. The boy pushed open a squeaking door on the side, and led his friend in. He immediately reached for hard hats for both of them. The contractors had trained him well.

Jax followed Declan in silence, goggle-eyed at the size of the space.

“That’ll be the kitchen,” said Declan as he pointed to a large area with water lines installed and plywood frames to indicate counters.

“The living area,” indicated Declan. “You can’t tell now, of course, but it’s going to have a lot of cool stuff in it. A big flat panel TV, tons of DVDs, video games, the works. And here are the bedrooms,” he continued. “Unpainted and not decorated yet, but I have someone who’s going to help with that.”

Declan smiled shyly as he thought of Fiona.

“So,” said Declan, trying to sound like Jax’s opinion didn’t mean everything to him. “What do you think?”

Jax took a long look around the space.

“It’s amazing, man, it really is. I think it’s gonna be exactly what you want it to be. I’m just not sure you’ll get any kids who’ll want to live here.”

Declan slumped forward and looked at his feet. It seemed as if an invisible weight had descended on his shoulders.

“Why not?” he whispered.

Jax chose his words carefully.

“The biggest thing I wonder about is secrecy. This place will be fantastic. Once they find out where it is—and they will—every junkie and thief in town will want to be a freeloader. How can you prevent it?”

A sly smile crossed Declan’s face, and he brought his eyes back to Jax. A devilish gleam was in them now.

“Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you about the tunnel.”

“Tunnel?”

“Yeah. When Mr. Hunter—he’s my parents’ lawyer—he’s been pretty helpful—was looking for places, he found this warehouse built on the site of an Underground Railroad station.”

At Jax’s blank look, he added, “My Mom used to tell me about these tunnels when she was teaching me about the Civil War. When America still had slaves, a lot of them escaped using this network of secret hiding places in houses and churches and stuff. It was called the Underground Railroad. Philadelphia was a really important place, and had tons of ‘stations.’ Anyway, it turns out this warehouse used to be a church, and it has a secret passage.”

Jax stared, open-mouthed.

“Vrèman?” he asked, lapsing into Creole. “And where does it lead?”

“To a run-down old house. We bought that too. C’mon, I’ll show you!” he said, grabbing two flashlights from a pile in a corner and throwing one to Jax.

The boys had to duck so their heads didn’t bump the earthen ceiling as they entered the passageway.

“Kids can enter the house and ‘disappear.’ And don’t forget, I have Galahad too. Guard dog!” he grinned.

Jax raised his hands as high as he could in the cramped space.

“Okay, okay! I give up! You’ve covered secrecy very well. The other big problem I have is money, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Money. Kids who don’t have any will want to steal from the ones who do have some. And everyone will want to steal from you.”

At that, Declan paused. They’d reached the dilapidated house on the other side of the tunnel, and walked out into its dusty, disused main room. He paced and thought, chewing on his fingernails, for a good five minutes.

“I’ve got it!” he finally announced. “Or at least, I think I do.”

Jax reappeared from the antiquated kitchen, thanking God he had on shoes—however worn—as he walked over the carpet of dried rodent droppings.

“So what is it?”

“Our own money—Orphan Academy Dollars or something—‘Orphan Academy’ is what Mr. Hunter calls this place… If we have our own money, that’s only good here, we should be okay.”

“I don’t understand,” said Jax, perching on the end of an ancient crate. “Even if you had this fake money, how would the kids get it? And what would they use it for?”

Declan’s thoughts were racing faster than he could explain to his friend.

“Well, there could be a store, with clothes and electronic things and makeup and all… the kids would earn Orphan Academy Dollars for going to classes and taking tests and doing chores… and it would cost ‘money’ to use the really cool games—I’ll figure that part out later—my friend Fiona—Mr. Hunter’s daughter—could design the money. She’s very artistic.”

He smiled again, unable to hide it.

The two boys walked more slowly through the tunnel this time, Declan’s mind full of ideas and Jax’s mind full of questions. They emerged into the half-finished site of Orphan Academy, and Jax motioned for them to sit on a couple of 5-gallon tubs of paint primer.

“I’ll say it again, man, this place will be amazing,” he said, gesturing to the vast space under construction, “But I have to tell you, I still have my doubts.”

Declan squared his shoulders. He reminded himself that he wanted to think of everything, and Jax’s input was invaluable.

“Doubts about what?” he forced himself to ask calmly.

“Booze, drugs, crime… the usual,” Jax answered with a shrug. “Pretty much everyone I know, except you, is homeless. And a lot of them are addicted to something. They’d be thinking about how to steal the TV and sell it for a month’s worth of fixes or bottles.”

“Wow,” admitted Declan. “I hadn’t thought of that. Are all the kids addicts too?”

Jax considered for a moment.

“N-no,” he said slowly. “A lot of the kids I know do drugs now and then, but they usually don’t have the money. And it’s mostly the older guys who drink a lot.”

“Okay. Well, what if we stated upfront that there’d be no way to get alcohol or drugs at Orphan Academy? What if,” he grinned, thinking of the visits he’d made to private schools, “we make it kind of exclusive? Like, you can only join if you’re not a drunk or a druggie or anything. The kids could all sign a pledge. And once they were here, there would be so many advantages that they wouldn’t want to leave.”

At that, Jax did a double take.

“Do you mean they’d be prisoners, man? ’Cause I can tell you right now, you wouldn’t get a single kid to join up if it was like that…”

Declan almost toppled off his primer tub. “Oh, my God—totally not! Seriously! It’s just that if kids were used to being mostly hungry and wondering where they would sleep and if they’d be warm enough in the winter and whether they’d be safe, maybe some of them wouldn’t want to leave. That’s all. There’s a really nice outdoor courtyard too, by the way—surrounded by walls, so no bad guys can get in—but they could leave whenever they wanted! Truly!”

“Okay, man, okay! Calm down! Now tell me,” he added to divert his friend, “What are these video games you keep talking about? We don’t have those in Haiti…”

Decor

Several weeks later, Declan decided to show Fiona the Orphan Academy building. It was still under construction, but it was much further along than when he’d taken Jax through…

“So what do you think?”

Fiona gazed at the finished-but-unpainted warehouse in astonishment. Each bedroom had a bed, a dresser, a chair, and a closet. The kitchen boasted all the latest appliances. Each classroom featured a whiteboard, dry erase markers, and desks.

In the common room, Declan had really gone crazy. A room-sized, wraparound plush couch sat in front of an enormous plasma TV, as well as numerous easy chairs and ottomans. Each corner featured another smaller TV, a headset, a low leather chair, and a video game system and controller. The video game library was housed in the common room, as well as the extensive DVD collection.

The laundry room boasted 4 washers and 4 dryers.

And of course, there was the tunnel.

Fiona didn’t know what to say after Declan took her on the tour.

“It’s amazing. Truly.” She reached up to kiss him lightly on the cheek. “And you’re pretty amazing for creating it. Now, what can I do to help?”

Declan shook his head—she’d kissed him! Fiona had kissed him! He forced himself to think rationally.

“I was hoping you’d say that… well, the last part, anyway… I don’t mean to come off as vain or anything… right… anyway… I made some notes just in case you wanted to help… ” He dug into a pocket. “Here we go… there are two things, actually. One: I need someone to choose paint and curtains and bedding and pictures for the bedrooms, but also décor for the classrooms and the common room. I’m not old enough to get a credit card yet, but your dad got one for this place, and you could use that.”

Fiona’s gray eyes fairly danced as she replied, “I know exactly where to go. All kinds of stores, of course. I think the King of Prussia Mall area will have most of the places I’d need. I’ll ask Mom to drive me. She loves to shop anyway… what’s the other thing?”

Declan wasn’t sure how much to tell her. Interior decoration was one thing—Fiona’s mother would know all about that, since she’d be driving—but the ins and outs of Orphan Academy were something else again. After all, Mr. Hunter didn’t even know all of his plans.

He remembered what Fiona had said when he’d first told her about Orphan Academy, and wondered if he could turn her attitude to his advantage.

He glanced around, somewhat theatrically, as if Mr. Hunter were hiding in a corner.

“You couldn’t tell your father about this part,” he said in a hushed voice.

Fiona was thrilled.

“Of course not,” she breathed.

“I think we need our own separate money. A friend mentioned it would take away the temptation to steal. This would be money that would only be good at Orphan Academy. Kids could earn it by going to school and doing chores and spend it on clothes and extras here at the Academy. Oh—I forgot to mention the clothes—could you buy them too?”

Fiona cocked her head and raised her perfectly groomed eyebrows.

“What do you think? Now, about this money?”

“Well, with your artistic ability, I was thinking that maybe you could draw the different denominations, and then we could have the ‘bills’ copied. I’ve thought of a slogan and everything. What do you say?”

“Sure,” she answered. “I’ll start shopping tomorrow, and have some drawings of the ‘money’ denominations for you this weekend. How’s that?”

Declan went to hug her, but stopped himself in mid-step, managing to look like a prize idiot.

“Perfect!” he said, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

She did notice, though—and quickly turned her head so her curtain of blonde hair would hide her smile.

Discussions

Declan sat in his cavernous kitchen, eating a sandwich. Galahad lay at his feet, hoping he’d drop some turkey or cheese…

“You’re going to have a group of teenagers, isn’t that right then, luv?” asked the middle-aged woman .

Declan struggled not to roll his eyes. Arabella repeated this conversation every day now. Several times a day, in fact.

“That’s right,” he said between bites.

“And they’ll be teaching each other classes, studying their own work, doing chores, and getting used to this new place, correct?”

Declan sighed.

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t sound like they’ll have the time, or the desire, to cook. When my own were teenagers, they wouldn’t have known a frying pan if you’d conked them over the noggin with it.”

Declan smothered a smile. She changed analogies every day, and some days they were pretty funny.

“So I think you’ll need a cook,” she concluded as usual. “A live-in cook.”

Normally, he just nodded and ignored whatever she said, but the boy decided to ask her some questions today.

“There are issues a live-in cook would need to deal with, you know,” he said, figuring he’d start with the most drastic thing he could think of.

“Like?”

Declan put his sandwich down. Galahad paid extra-sharp attention for awhile, only to give up eventually and resume his former stretched-out position under the boy’s chair.

“Like the fact that Orphan Academy has to be as secret as possible, otherwise kids won’t come. And of course, we don’t want thieves or drug addicts finding us,” he added casually. “That means entering and exiting through a secret tunnel.”

Arabella, surprisingly, didn’t faint.

“I’m not that tall. I’d probably fit. You said ‘issues,’ plural. What else, luv?”

Her quick acceptance caught Declan off guard.

“Um… I know you like to stick to a schedule,” he stammered. “But these kids probably won’t be used to that, according to my friend Jax. You met him when he stayed over one night when he had a cold.”

“I remember him well. Such a charming boy,” she smiled. “I had a feeling you’d say that about schedules, luv. I’ve thought of a way around it. I have it written down—let me see—oh yes, here we are…”

She reached into a kitchen drawer and removed a loose-leaf binder covered in flowered fabric.

“Here’s a sample menu for a week,” she said, showing him a meticulous diagram. “Coffee in the mornings, of course. My children lived on coffee in their teen years. You’d have thought tea, but no—they just wanted coffee…And on the weekdays,” she said, regaining her focus, “I’d just pick one thing to bake. Then I’d make ‘box lunches’ the night before and leave them in the fridge for kids to get whenever they wanted. For suppers during the week, you’d be on your own, but I’d make sure you had all the ingredients. On weekends, though, I’d actually cook dinners—steak and fried potatoes, spaghetti and meatballs—as well as breakfasts, of course. Pancakes, French toast, waffles. Leftover food wouldn’t be wasted, either. We could arrange to give it to that soup kitchen you volunteer for.”

Declan flipped through the pages of her binder in astonishment. She had lists of ingredients and appliances and supplies and equipment—lots of things he hadn’t thought of himself. He couldn’t help but be reminded of his own notebook…

Arabella held her breath while he pored over her binder. Declan may be only fourteen, but no matter how maternal she felt towards the boy, she wasn’t his mother. He could fire her whenever he wanted.

Finally, he made up his mind.

“And bacon?” he asked, remembering that Jax had mentioned that shelters and youth homes and soup kitchens never seemed to have bacon. “On the weekends, for breakfast, could you make lots of bacon?”

Arabella beamed.

You’d think Galahad actually understood, from the way his ears pricked up at that last word…

—————

Jax had his eye on a girl named Karen Toth. Once he ruled out druggies, criminals, and kids with visible mental illnesses, he wasn’t left with a lot of options. Orphan Academy would help—but not every homeless teen.

He’d gotten to know Karen when he hung out on South Street, “reading” the palms of drunk tourists. Petite, dark-haired, heavily tattooed, and sporting multiple piercings, Karen often supplemented her other earnings by picking the pockets of the tourists whose palms he read. Jax requested payment up front, and the wallets were fair game after that.

She’d never actually been arrested, so he didn’t consider her a criminal.

Well, not much.

“You should check it out,” he said of Orphan Academy late one night. “It’s going to have bedrooms—one for each of us!—hot food and showers, a courtyard outside, a secret entrance, you name it. A kid’s starting it—a rich kid. No parents. They died. He volunteers at Good Shepherd. That’s how I met him. He’s cool.”

They’d both made money that night, and got slices and sodas at a local pizzeria, sitting on cracked red benches in a pre-formed plastic booth.

“It sounds really great,” Karen said. “But I don’t know if Marty would let me go.”

“Is Marty your boyfriend?” Jax asked.

Karen pretended to gag on her pizza.

“Eww! Gross! He’s, like, thirty or something! No, he’s—well, I guess you could say he’s my ‘manager.’ He gives me food and a place to sleep, and I give him all the money I earn by picking pockets and… other stuff.”

She glanced at a recent tattoo on her forearm.

“Well, almost all the money.”

She sighed heavily, then shook her head.

“I’m sick of it, you know? Marty’s a real creeper too. I’d love to get away from him. Most of us girls would. And like I said, your friend’s place sounds way cool, but I can’t imagine anywhere Marty wouldn’t find me. I make money for him, you know?”

Jax swallowed the pizza crust he was chewing before saying, “Yeah, I get it. You might want to give this place a shot, though. Security like you wouldn’t believe—seriously, it’s like something out of a movie. I saw it while it was being built.”

He saw interest flicker in Karen’s eyes, then delivered the coup de grace: “The food’s gonna be good too. Bacon every weekend.”

Karen had been about to get up from the booth and throw out her grease-stained paper plate.

“Real bacon? Every weekend?”

“That’s right,” answered Jax serenely. Amazing how the mere mention of bacon could trump all of her fears, and get her more interested than even the thought of individual bedrooms or hot showers…

—————

Declan scooped up soggy tuna casserole from the metal tray and loaded it onto Jax’s plate, getting a resigned sigh in return.

“You were right, you know. About Orphan Academy. It’s hard to find kinds who’d fit.”

He’d been looking at each person as they came through the line. There weren’t too many teens in the first place.

“Let’s see… heroin addict… obvious schizophrenic… kid with parents… now they might be possibilities,” he’d thought as he served two kids.

The girl had gratefully accepted the casserole, loading her tray with slices of white bread as well. Declan had wondered where she put all that food, as the curly hair that escaped her scarf appeared to be wider than her shoulders.

“How about them?” Declan nudged Jax. “I haven’t seen them here before. They don’t look strung out or anything. Maybe they just need a place to stay.”

Jax glanced over to the steel table where they sat, and couldn’t help but notice how different the pair looked. They were just as dirty as the others, just as poor, but they seemed genuinely uncomfortable. It was odd—they wore mismatched clothes that clearly came from a charity bin, and the girl sported wildly tangled and filthy hair under a soiled bandana, but somehow they didn’t act homeless.

Too trusting, Jax thought as he noticed the girl making eye contact with everyone around her. First rule of the streets: never appear friendly. People will take advantage.

“I’ll check them out,” replied Jax as he eyed the tuna casserole dubiously. “Don’t you have anything but this?”

Declan dropped his eyes.

“Sorry, dude. I don’t. But once you move into Orphan Academy, the food will be great. Arabella’s coming! I know she’s an adult, but I think she’ll be cool. She knows about the tunnel, and she’s fine with it. And man, can she cook!”

Jax frowned.

“What about her family?”

“Oh, no worries there. Arabella’s been a widow for years, and both her kids are grown—they live in England. I think she sees them around once every 5 years or so.”

“Okay, then. Good food will be a nice change!” he added. “I’m grateful—really, I am—God is good—but sometimes, I have to admit, I wish He was a better cook!”

Jax nodded toward the curly-haired girl sitting with a skinny boy in jeans that were two sizes too big and a baggy sweatshirt.

“So they’re the ones I should talk to, man?”

Declan nodded.

“That would be great. Thanks, Jax!”

Danger

“Give me your backpack. Now!” the thief rasped. He’d stepped out of an alley—and he held a knife.

Esprit Saunders froze in mid-step, too afraid to move.

Slowly and wordlessly, she gave him her backpack, then raised her hands in the air. The wild-eyed mugger took it, hoping that despite her homeless-girl clothing, filthy hair, and stained bandana, she’d have something worth selling. He needed a fix.

He turned to the boy with her.

“Yours too.”

Davy looked to his quivering sister for guidance. She nodded, and he reluctantly handed over his belongings—after removing them from his backpack.

“This isn’t worth anything,” he said in a surprisingly loud voice, holding up the now-empty canvas backpack. “Can I keep it?”

The junkie glanced to his left and right after quickly inventorying the items Davy had: a pocket knife with a bunch of attachments, a couple of pencils, a bunch of Sudoku books, some socks, a few pairs of underwear, and a watch. The watch looked promising.

“Keep your voice down!” he ordered, shoving the boy’s belongings into the girl’s backpack.

“He can’t,” said the girl in a small, shivery tone, hands still raised. “My brother’s deaf in one ear. He can’t tell when he’s talking too loud.”

The desperate thief just wanted to leave and try to sell the kids’ few possessions.

“Close your eyes and keep them closed,” he said curtly. The girl pointed to her eyes and shut them in an exaggerated manner to make sure Davy understood what was required. The two of them complied.

“Count to a hundred,” the thief said.

He bolted.

After counting to three hundred, Esprit dared to open her eyes to the sight of her brother, eyes still closed, clutching his backpack.

She struggled to make her voice strong and even, leaning towards his good ear as she said, “It’s okay now, Davy. He’s gone. You can open your eyes.”

Esprit gripped her brother’s hand tightly as they roamed the darkening streets, looking for a place to sleep. She jumped at every sudden sound, saw every passerby as a threat. The two avoided other people as they settled in the alley behind an electronics store.

“Maybe we should go to the place that kid today told us about after all,” she said, drawing her knees up to her chest. “It sounded safe, anyway. He said it would be safe, right?”

Davy bent close to hear her better. It was unlike his sister to be this rattled, he thought.

“Sure, Bree. Whatever you think,” he whispered loudly.

She started to cry at last, dropping her head onto her crossed arms.

“Oh, God, Davy. How were you so calm? I was so scared!”

Davy could only remember one other time when he’d seen Esprit cry. In an attempt to cheer her up, he reached into his supposedly empty backpack. Trying to keep his voice down, he said, “Look, Bree! The thief didn’t know about this—it was hidden in a side pocket. That’s why I wanted to keep the backpack.”

She raised her head to look… and smiled.

Disaster

Fourteen-year-old Declan de Valera struggled to find a comfortable position, stacking several squashy pillows on top of each other and curling into such a tight ball that he only took up a sliver of his enormous bed.

He couldn’t sleep.

He hadn’t slept properly for two months.

Like he did every night, Declan relived the moment when his parents’ lawyer had visited him at camp and delivered the news that changed his life…

 —————

 …He’d been finishing up his riding lesson, pleased that his horse had cleared a 4’6” tall obstacle for the first time today. Declan was glad that he hadn’t been afraid himself either. Maybe he could actually win the Junior Jumper category at Devon this year.

 

He reached beneath his mount’s sweaty belly to unbuckle the girth that secured the deep brown leather saddle, and when he raised his head, Declan saw a tall, thin, balding, gentle-looking man standing there.

 

The lawyer.

 

A nice enough guy… Declan had seen him several times at the estate when Mr. Hunter brought legal documents for his parents to sign…

 

But what was he doing here?

 

“Hi Declan,” he’d said quietly. “Do you remember me? I’m Malcolm Hunter, your parents’ lawyer. We need to talk, and the stable manager said we could use her office.”

 

Declan couldn’t imagine anything good coming from this conversation. Even if something really bad had happened, like one of his grandparents dying on that kid-free Paris vacation all the adults were going on, his parents would have at least called him. They probably would have come themselves to tell him in person.

 

“Tell me here. Whatever it is.”

 

Without even realizing it, Declan gripped the horse’s bridle more tightly.

 

The lawyer looked at the boy, saying nothing. His eyes were warm, but Declan could tell he was withholding something.

 

Finally, Malcolm drew a quick, sharp breath and said, “Your parents’ plane went down over the Atlantic Ocean.”

 

Declan swallowed hard, and shook his head as if to dismiss the very possibility.

 

“There were no survivors. I’m so sorry.”

 

Unthinkingly, Malcolm had moved closer to Declan as he’d spoken. He expected the boy to fall—was waiting for the boy to go down.

 

Declan didn’t fall, though. Not quite. He turned about three shades paler, true enough. He sagged against the solid warmth of the horse, letting the huge animal take most of his weight.

 

But he didn’t fall.

 

After a few moments, he straightened. Maybe it wasn’t true. The whole thing was too unbelievable to be real anyway.

 

“I don’t understand,” he said to Malcolm. “Are you trying to tell me they’re—” he couldn’t bring himself to say the word “dead” — “gone?”

 

Malcolm so wished he could say “no.”

 

“I’m truly sorry, but I’m afraid they are.”

 

Declan turned even paler than before, his dark blue eyes and wavy black hair standing out more than usual against the background of stark white skin.

 

“Where will I— What about—?” Declan began.

 

On that issue, at least, Malcolm could reassure the boy. He had an answer at the ready.

 

“There’s no need to worry about where you’ll stay. The guardians your parents named in their will are also—gone—but my wife and I would be very pleased if you moved in with us. We have a daughter around your age who could keep you company, and you could start at her school in the fall. We have plenty of room.”

 

Declan’s brain was whirling. All he wanted to do was go to bed—his bed—and wake up in the morning to the sound of his parents’ voices, and the knowledge that this had all been a dream.

 

He knew it didn’t make any sense, but he felt mad at the lawyer.

 

“Do I have to? Is there a law about it?” he asked coldly.

 

Malcolm was shaken—but just a little. He’d given Declan the worst possible news today, and proposed a lot of changes as well.

 

“No, there’s no law. You have a live-in cook/housekeeper at your parents’ estate—Annabel or Arabella, her name is?—so you can stay there as long as you like.”

 

Malcolm guessed the boy needed time to grieve in familiar surroundings, but he’d absolutely be calling Annabel or Arabella (or whatever her name was) every day…

————— 

No matter how many pillows he covered his head with, Declan couldn’t shut out the pictures in his mind. Finally, he stopped even trying to sleep and sat up in his sandbox-sized bed just as Galahad jumped up, knocking several pillows to the floor.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked the huge dog. Galahad cocked his head to one side and scooched closer to his master. Unfortunately, the Irish Wolfhound didn’t realize that he’d grown into a 4-foot-tall, 120-pound behemoth since his puppy days. His displays of affection often wound up cutting off Declan’s airway, and the boy had to shove him aside.

Tonight, though, as he’d done for the last two months, Declan held Galahad close.

He remembered going with his parents to the breeder’s farm in upstate New York to pick up the three-month-old puppy. They’d made a mini-vacation out of it, staying at a local bed and breakfast. Declan had felt terribly grown up, at age eight, in his own room adjoining his folks’ next door. Maybe it had been his imagination, but they seemed to have a very big bed. More than big enough for three people.

Three people, Declan thought, as he hugged a muddy Galahad to him (Arabella would be furious about the mud tomorrow).

We were always three people.

And now I’m just one person.

He looked around the cavernous room with its state-of-the-art entertainment system, high-end furniture, and extensive video game library, and he thought for what seemed like the millionth time that he’d give it all away if he could just have his family back.

Tomorrow was a Good Shepherd day, he suddenly remembered. Should he go this time? Alone?

When they were alive, his parents had volunteered at the Good Shepherd Soup Kitchen several times a month. Declan guessed it was because they felt guilty about being rich. They’d both come from working-class families, and had been making average salaries as research scientists for a non-profit organization when they’d invented Pinz (“the light-up buttons you can attach to your clothes, backpacks, hats—almost anything—they never fade and never need batteries!”). They hadn’t expected Pinz to become the hottest fad in decades, and they didn’t expect the Defense Department to pay them millions to use their technology in night-vision equipment either. They’d gotten a good lawyer and an excellent financial adviser who turned their millions into even more millions, but they never felt really comfortable with the money.

His parents were afraid he’d be teased or targeted at a public school once the kids found out about his fortune. A private school, they’d feared after going on several visits, might give him snobby ideas, so they decided he should be homeschooled.

Not only did they homeschool him, they also brought him along when they volunteered at Good Shepherd. Declan’s parents had wanted him to understand that very few people grew up with the advantages he had—and it was his responsibility to help those people however he could, even if it was just loading cardboard boxes with containers of spaghetti and cans of fruit or serving overcooked noodles to homeless vets…

—————

 Declan turned his head away from Galahad so he could breathe, and finally fell asleep with his arm looped around the dog’s neck.

He’d decided to go to Good Shepherd tomorrow.

Despair

It was too soon, Declan thought as he packed brown paper bags with boxes of macaroni and cheese, store-brand breakfast cereal, canned green beans, and other nonperishables. He almost tore a new bag as he shook it out to open it.

He looked at the clean, hole-free sneakers he wore, and tried to focus on the many people—everyone here, it seemed—who had it worse than he did.

After all, he reminded himself, I’m comfortable, I have every toy and gadget I could ever want, and I’ll never have to worry about money.

Oh, and I’m alone.

He shook his head and reached for another bag, catching sight of the soup kitchen’s director. When he’d arrived on his bike several hours ago, she’d leaned in so close he could smell her rose-scented powder and lowered her voice as she greeted him: “You poor boy… I heard about your parents’ deaths on the news… if you want to talk about it, just say the word… I’m right here…”

Declan hated that he was this woman’s personal tabloid story.

He glanced around the industrial kitchen, grabbed an armful of single-serve beverages, and fled to the dining area with its mismatched furniture and harsh lighting.

He wound among the tables, handing out the juice boxes to unshaven men who added gin from grimy paper bags in their pockets, mothers with screaming, running children, couples with the sunken cheeks and darting eyes of addicts. But whatever their troubles, Declan noted, they were all in groups.

Well, all except for one guy—a kid like Declan, but older. Finally, someone he could identify with…

Declan had seen him at Good Shepherd before. The boy seemed to know everybody, but he was always alone. Following some strange instinct, Declan approached the battered table. Eyes closed, the boy leaned so far back in his chair, bracing himself with his feet, that Declan was sure he’d fall.

“Is it okay if I sit down?” he asked, speaking a little loudly to be heard over the din of fifty people talking.

The other boy’s eyes flew open, his short braids went flying, and his hands grabbed the table as he almost overbalanced.

“Jesus, man, you scared the crap out of me!” he said in a thick accent that Declan couldn’t identify. French? Caribbean?

The kid almost wrote Declan off as just a curious rich kid when he looked at the younger boy’s face. The rich kid was obviously a mess. He relented.

“Sure. Sit.”

Declan sat.

He wasn’t quite sure what to do next, so he offered the older boy a box.

“Juice?” he asked, holding it out.

“No, man, I’m good,” the boy chuckled. “But it doesn’t look like you are. What gives?” 

Declan really wanted to talk about his parents, but he absolutely refused to speak with all the well-meaning adults like the soup kitchen director who treated him like an animal in a zoo. Something told him he could talk to this boy, though.

“Um… I used to come here with my folks—I know I’ve seen you before—but they died in a plane crash with the rest of my family a few months ago, and this is my first time back. It’s a little weird.”

He spoke quickly and tried very hard to be matter-of-fact.

The other boy whistled.

“A plane crash? Man, that’s bad. I lost my folks too—and the rest of my own relatives—in the earthquake in Haiti. In the blink of an eye—no house, no family, no nothing.”

It was Declan’s turn to whistle—and for the first time in two months, he thought of something besides his own pain.

“Wow, seriously? I’m really sorry.” He paused. “So how did you get, you know, here?”

“Why am I a regular customer at this fine establishment, you mean?”

The older boy gave Declan a long look, then seemed to make up his mind.

“You know, if I’m going to tell you my life story, you should at least know my name. It’s Jax. Well, Jacques, Jacques Delacroix. But you Americans pronounce it ‘Jax’ anyway, so I’m just ‘going with the flow,’ as you say…”

Jax reached out his hand, which Declan hastened to shake.

“Good to meet you, Jax. I’m Declan. Declan de Valera.”

“‘Declan de Valera,’ huh? Let me guess—Irish and Italian? I know everyone in your country is from somewhere else.”

Declan was relieved to talk about something mundane. Even though he’d sought out a deeper conversation, it still made him nervous.

“Nope. All Irish. ‘De Valera’ was the name of some Irish president. My father is—was—his fifth cousin three times removed or something.”

Jax noticed the grief that shadowed Declan’s face when he mentioned his father, and decided to change the subject.

“That’s interesting, man,” he said, pronouncing “man” as “mon.” “‘Delacroix’ isn’t a famous name in Haiti or anything, just an old one.” He looked across the room at the cheap wall clock, pushing back his folding chair at the same time. “I’m done eating. Great noodles,” he added, rolling his eyes. He thought Declan would be diverted by seeing more of the way some people lived.

“Want to take a walk? Do you need to be somewhere?” asked Jax.

Declan thought of Arabella at the estate. He knew she reported in to Malcolm Hunter every day, but he’d only be an hour or so late. He decided a quick text would suffice.

“Nope. I’m okay,” he said, taking out his fancy cell phone. “Where do you want to go? Your house?”

They’d started walking down a dirty city street, and Declan couldn’t help but wonder where an earthquake refugee lived.

Jax laughed so hard his short braids shook.

“House? I don’t have a house, man! I came here on a Red Cross plane, supposed to move in with some relatives I’d never met. Well, they weren’t too happy to have me—mostly because they had fourteen kids of their own, two sets of in-laws, and no room! I decided to take my chances on my own. My parents always said that God would provide, and He has.”

He paused.

“Well,” he admitted. “A little.”

Declan was confused. He knew all about homeless people from Good Shepherd and from what his parents had told him, but he’d never really believed kids could be in that situation.

“So if you don’t have a house, where do you live? And what about school? And—you know—money and stuff?”

Jax turned left and headed for the public library. He pointed at the steps and started to jog toward one near the top.

“That’s where I live, man. School? Forget about it! I never liked school back in Haiti anyway. Church was good, but not school. And as for money,” he smiled, “Well that’s where my natural charm comes in. At night, I hang out on South Street. Drunk tourists will believe anyone—even a fake palm reader.”

Declan looked at the library steps, and followed his new friend. Jax has no family either, he thought. But he also doesn’t have a home.

It made him think.

“Jax, do a lot of kids live the way you do?”

The older boy paused in mid-jog.

“A few. More than a few, I think. I see them around town, and at places like Good Shepherd. Why?”

“No reason,” answered Declan quickly.

But the seed of an idea had sprung up within him. His first truly happy thought since losing his parents.

 

Decision

Declan saw a lot of Jax over the next several months. He met him frequently at Good Shepherd, walked and talked with him after his shift, and got to know even more of his background. Declan resolved to tell his bankers to direct money to a Haitian relief charity…

Next to Galahad, the Haitian boy became the one he trusted most (which was odd, considering that Jax made a habit of deceiving people to get money). Declan felt guilty that he was so rich—he hadn’t worked for the money, after all—and one night in January, when Jax was sick, things came to a head.

“Jax,” Declan said as he regarded his shivering friend at the soup kitchen, “It’s supposed to snow tonight. And go down to zero degrees. You’ve probably got bronchitis or something already. You know you can’t sleep outside—you know it. Stay at my place for the night.”

Jax resisted Declan’s offer of help, as he always did.

“Thanks,” he said between deep, hacking coughs. “But I can sleep at 30^th Street Station tonight. I’ll be warm enough there. God will provide,” he croaked.

Declan finally lost his patience.

“What if He’s providing my house at the moment? We have a saying in America: ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.’ Chicken noodle soup, a warm bed, a hot shower in the morning—what do you say?”

The corners of Jax’s mouth turned up in a ghost of a smile.

“Okay, then. Okay. You know how I love noodles. How can I pass up such an offer?”

Declan pulled his cell phone out of a pocket. “Just let me call a cab—no trains for you tonight—and text Arabella that you’re coming. She’ll probably want to make you tea. She always does that when someone’s sick.”

Jax pondered for a minute. Declan assumed he was figuring out how to turn down the tea.

“Do you have any whiskey to put in it?”

Declan burst out laughing and clapped Jax on the back, causing the Haitian boy to practically cough up a lung.

“I’m sure we do. You’re underage—but hey, if you use that famous charm of yours, there’s no telling what she’ll let you have!”

Declan frowned suddenly, thinking of the ornate liquor cabinet at home.

“By the way,” he informed his friend. “The house is kind of big…”

Jax sneezed.

“I mean, there are a lot of rooms that never get used…”

Jax blew his nose.

“And a really big kitchen…”

Jax coughed into a filthy rag that served as his handkerchief.

“And there’s kind of a security system thing. I’ll have to enter a code into a keypad when we get to the gate.”

At that, Jax looked up from blowing his nose.

“I figured you were rich, man, but a gate?”

“Oh, look—there’s our cab coming.”

Declan had never been so glad for a diversion.

 —————

 Jax emerged from the bathroom in a thick terrycloth bathrobe. The promise of a hot shower had proved too enticing for him to wait until morning. Declan handed his friend a mug of simmering tea (just tea—Jax had indeed charmed Arabella, but not enough for her to give him booze). He was glad to see Jax warm at last, and interested to notice that Jax looked about five years younger without his many layers of clothing, knit cap, long scarf, and coating of street grime.

The two boys sank into leather couches in the family room. Declan was mesmerized by the flames in the gas fireplace. Jax marveled at the fact that there were no ashes and that the fire turned on with the flick of a switch.

“I’m sorry you’re sick,” said Declan. “But I’m glad you’re here. I want to talk to you about something.”

Jax straightened, instantly wary. Had Declan’s hospitality been just a cover-up? Was the boy going to report him to the authorities?

Unaware of Jax’s fears, Declan went on. “I remember you telling me there were a lot of kids who live on the streets. I was thinking of having a place for them to go—you know, a safe place, a place that would be warm in the winter. But with lots of cool stuff too, you know, so they’d want to come.”

His friend relaxed—and smiled gently as he tried not to laugh out loud.

“A place like this, maybe?” he asked, gesturing to the huge plasma TV, wall of video games and DVDs, consoles, controllers, and headphones. Jax didn’t even know what half of the things were.

“Well, maybe,” said Declan in a defeated voice. “It was just an idea.” He’d thought it was such a good idea too. He just hadn’t been expecting that patronizing smile.

Jax looked again at his newfound friend. He didn’t want to hurt Declan’s feelings, but he wondered how much the boy really understood about the challenges of life on the streets for a kid. He decided to pretend it was a viable concept—and present so many realistic objections that Declan would realize it wouldn’t work.

He started by saying, “You know it could never be here, right?”

“Why not?” Declan asked listlessly, thinking of the notebook pages he’d filled with lists and diagrams based on this estate.

“It’s too far away from the city, for one thing. Kids would never come. How would they get here?”

Declan started to say “they could take the train and then bike the rest of the way,” but he stopped himself. Runaways and homeless kids might not have train fare, and they definitely wouldn’t have bikes.

“Okay, then, where should it be?”

Declan may have been discouraged, but he wasn’t ready to give up on his idea altogether.

“Downtown,” answered Jax. He doubted that Declan could bring his plan to life, but humored the boy nonetheless. “First of all, it’s got to be hidden, or no one will join. People get robbed and beaten up in shelters—that’s why so many of us live outdoors. And the kids I know who live on the streets don’t trust any grown-ups. Social workers, nuns, pimps, pushers—it doesn’t really matter. And it should be in a run-down neighborhood, so the kids don’t feel too out of place.”

Arabella walked in just as Jax was finishing up, but all she heard was “pimps” and “pushers.” As always when she was upset, her Cockney accent became more pronounced.

“Pimps? Pushers? ’Strewth! I know you want to help, luv, but how can you even think about it? Your parents, God rest them, would be spinning in their graves!”

Declan just sighed and waited for her to bluster herself out and leave the room, muttering. He turned back to Jax. He remembered some of the buildings he’d passed on trips to the airport with his parents. 

“How about a warehouse? Like, an abandoned one or something? We wouldn’t change anything on the outside, but we could make it really nice on the inside. Sort of like a combination house and school—have a big room where everyone could get together, a really nice kitchen…”

Jax began to get excited despite himself.

“And bedrooms? Could every kid have a separate bedroom?” He couldn’t help but think of the fourteen kids crammed into two drab bedrooms at his aunt and uncle’s house.

Finally, Declan grinned. It seemed Jax wasn’t pooh-poohing his idea anymore.

“Absolutely.”

“But what about security?” the Haitian boy asked.

Just then, Galahad sprinted into the room, knocking Declan out of his chair and proceeding to stand over the boy and lick him head to toe.

“I don’t think security would be a problem,” laughed Declan. “No robber could stand up to Galahad!”

Defiance

“That was great, Mrs. Hunter,” Declan said as he finished the last of his penne with shrimp and vodka sauce. Meals like this definitely made Malcolm’s once-a-week dinner request easier to comply with.

“I’m glad you liked it,” answered Constance, reaching for her wine glass with a perfectly manicured hand. “I enjoy these dinners. It’s such a treat to send the twins to bed early and have a grown-up dinner with just the four of us.” She nodded in the direction of Fiona, her teenage daughter, who rolled her eyes as soon as her mother wasn’t looking.

Malcolm winced, thinking of the de Valeras’ deaths, the reason for these dinners, but he loyally added, “Yes indeed. Constance and I have come to think of you as one of our family, Declan. We hope you feel the same way.”

Declan drew a deep breath. It was now or never.

“I’m glad you brought that up, sir. Family. You guys know I’ve been volunteering at Good Shepherd, like I used to do with my folks?”

They nodded, bewildered.

“Well, I’ve gotten to be friends with this one kid especially, Jax. He lives outside, if you can believe that! No house, no family—nothing. He’s from Haiti, lost his folks in the earthquake.”

“Wow,” interrupted a wide-eyed Fiona. “That really sucks.”

“Yeah, it does,” answered Declan. “And between what he’s told me and what I’ve seen at Good Shepherd, I’ve realized that there are a lot of homeless kids out there. Kids,” he repeated, looking at Fiona. “Teenagers with nowhere to go. So I got to thinking: I have all this money. Why don’t I make a place for them to go? So they can get off the streets and stuff?”

Malcolm almost choked on his after-dinner coffee.

“That’s a very nice idea, Declan, but you realize it’s completely unrealistic, right?”

“Why?” challenged Declan. He’d been through his “defeated” period with Jax. Now, he was ready to defend his idea.

Malcolm forced himself to lower his voice. The boy had lost his entire family, he reminded himself—of course he’d be drawn to fellow orphans.

“Logistics, for starters. Where would this place be, and how many rooms would it need to have? And there would be safety concerns as well, of course… how could you guarantee that you wouldn’t get robbed, especially with the locals knowing where you are? What’s to keep it from becoming a drug den? There are plenty of other practical matters too, from food to electricity to schooling to security, but,” he hastened to add, so he didn’t demolish the boy’s self-confidence, “it’s a very nice idea, as I said.”

Declan listened to Malcolm in respectful silence, then walked to the corner of the room and crouched over his messenger bag, removing his notebook.

He flipped through the pages, stopping periodically to speak to the lawyer.

“I was thinking that a warehouse would be perfect. Contractors—like the ones who built my parents’ house—could gut the inside and rebuild it. I’m seeing around twenty bedrooms to start… one to a kid, and if we get more than twenty kids eventually then we can add more, as long as the space is big enough. Plus four or five classrooms. The homeschooling stuff my parents used with me should be fine—I’ll need to get a bunch more books and supplies, depending on the kids’ age groups and how much school they’ve already had. A big kitchen—they’d take turns cooking for the group—and a huge living room-type place where everyone could get together to watch movies and whatever. There’d be a really big TV screen, of course. And lots of video games.”

Malcolm sat back in his chair, somewhat stunned.

“An arcade?” he asked weakly. “A bowling alley?”

“Oh, kids don’t play arcade games anymore, sir. Or bowl. What I have in mind is a place where kids could learn and have fun and relax and be safe. You mentioned security concerns, by the way. That’s a really good point. I was thinking that the outside of the warehouse wouldn’t be changed at all, and the place could be like a secret. If you were walking down the street, you’d just see an abandoned warehouse. But yeah, there’d need to be a pretty good security system. I was wondering if the company that put in the one at my house might be able to do one for this place too…”

Malcolm looked at Constance for guidance. She stared back at him and shrugged helplessly, while a slight smile appeared on Fiona’s face.

He reached for Declan’s notebook, playing for time as he paged through.

The boy appeared to have thought of everything—and it was clear that he’d been thinking of little else. The plans were thorough and well thought-out. Some elements would require an adult—buying food and other supplies, providing a legal address and credit history for water, electricity, and sewer—but Malcolm didn’t doubt the boy had a plan for that.

“Declan, I’m sorry. These plans are impressive, but it would be much too dangerous. Why don’t you move in here instead? You could donate to a kids’ homeless shelter or a soup kitchen like the one you volunteer at. How about that?”

“Now I’m sorry, sir—but I’m not going to do that. Have you seen Good Shepherd? All the stuff is old and beat-up. And I don’t want to just donate money—I want to really get involved. I know it’s kind of weird, having it run by us kids, but I think it could work.”

He took a deep breath.

“And as much as I like you, I’m doing it even if you disapprove.”

Malcolm realized that if he didn’t agree—and become involved himself—he risked losing touch with Declan entirely. The boy may be a minor, but with both his parents and his legal guardians dead, the fourteen-year-old was essentially a free agent. He could petition the court for custody, but did he really want to become an enemy in Declan’s mind?

The answer to that was easy—no. He loved Fiona and the twins, but his heart seemed to be big enough to fit another child too. Until he was faced with the idea of losing Declan completely, Malcolm hadn’t realized just how attached he’d become. Common sense said, “Don’t help him do this crazy thing.” But Malcolm couldn’t help but think, “It’s such a nice idea. And the poor kid… hasn’t he suffered enough losses lately? And at least if I help, there’ll be a grown-up involved…”

He raised his coffee cup, making up his mind.

“To Orphan Academy. Here’s hoping it helps.”

Declan realized Malcolm was on board, and smiled wider than he had since before his parents died as he hugged the lawyer in thanks. Then he hugged a stiff and shocked Constance. Turning to Fiona, he remembered the girl had a boyfriend. Oh, what the hell, he thought—I’m not asking her to Prom, I’m just hugging her.

“Orphan Academy?” he asked Malcolm when he and Fiona pulled apart.

“Why not? You mentioned schooling, and the kids won’t have families…”

Declan tried the name on for size.

“‘Orphan Academy.’ You know? I kind of like it.”

 —————

 Malcolm and Constance had retired to the basement home theater with small snifters of brandy, leaving Declan and Fiona to clear the dishes.

Fiona said casually, “He’s right, you know. My dad. I mean, I’d never tell him that to his face or anything, but on this one thing, he’s right.”

Declan gathered plates and water glasses without looking up.

“Right about what?” he asked sulkily. He’d been so happy when Malcolm announced his approval of the plan.

“It’s dangerous. Your ‘Orphan Academy’ thing.”

“Oh, please! It’ll be fine.”

She reached for the glass he was holding, forcing him to look up.

“I’m not kidding, Declan. I know you’ve only been coming over for these Friday night dinners since your parents died, but I already feel like you’re my brother.”

Declan looked at her long curtain of blonde hair, light gray eyes rimmed in black, and full lips with a sheen of gloss. He remembered that brief hug too, and sighed.

“I mean, how do you know you won’t get robbed? These kids would be—well—homeless,” she whispered. “I’ve seen homeless people—I mean, there are some just a few blocks away from us! In the park. They’re scary.”

Declan realized how different their experiences had been.

“You should volunteer at Good Shepherd sometime,” he said. “It shows you what homeless people are really like. Sure, there are some bad apples, and some people with mental problems, but mostly, they’re just folks who caught a bunch of bad breaks.”

Fiona looked doubtful.

“If you say so.” She picked up the last of the dessert plates. “But I’m still glad you’ll be staying at your house!”

“What do you mean?” asked Declan. “Once it’s ready—and I hope you can help me decorate, by the way—I’ll be living at Orphan Academy.”

This short novel for young adults tells the story of 14-year-old Declan de Valera, and the unusual way of coping he finds when he suddenly loses his whole family.

You’ll also met Declan’s friends Jax Delacroix, Karen Toth, Esprit and Davy Saunders, a very big dog named Galahad, and a bunch of other characters besides (both nice and not-so-nice).

The Orphan Academy kids live together in a place that has lots of cool stuff – but lots of danger too.

What is Orphan Academy? Beginning on January 18, 2011, you’ll find out. The story has 7 parts, and a new part will be posted every few days until it’s complete. In the meantime, check out this website to learn more about what’s coming…