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“No one ever goes in there except me and the others. It’s just filled with old junk.”
She thought of the three rooms she’d passed in the basement. “The other kids who were born here?”
He nodded. Before they stepped from the cover of the trees, he looked at her. “You should get back. If they catch you . . .”
She waited a moment for him to finish, but he didn’t. “I know, Dreamboat.”
He gave her that shy, surprised smile again and she couldn’t help smiling in return. She liked his reaction to her compliment. He was a cutie, and he didn’t even know it. “I’ll walk with you to the shed and then I’ll head up the back stairs. Can I ask you a question first though? It’s sort of personal.”
The kid paused, nodded. “Your mothers . . . were they students here?”
He shrugged. “I think so.” A cloud moved across his expression. He glanced down at the tiny animal clutched against his chest and then back to her. “They didn’t want us.”
“How . . . why? How do you know that?”
“Our tutor told us. We all came out damaged, just like him”—he ran a finger down the fox’s back before meeting her eyes again—“and so they left us here.”
What in the world? That didn’t sound . . . three girls had given birth at Lilith House and then left their “damaged” babies behind? How exactly did that work? And this boy? He appeared anything but damaged.
She opened her mouth to ask him more, but he pulled at her sleeve. “We have to go. It’s almost time for chapel. They’ll expect you there.”
Shit. She’d forgotten about chapel. Yes, yes, they would expect her there.
She followed him to the edge of the forest and then walked in his wake as he wove from one landmark to another, obviously dodging the windows where someone might look out and spot movement. The sun cast a pale glow across the silver sky, shadows dissipating as dawn turned to day. When they made it to the small shed on the other side of the property, they both took a moment to catch their breath. A bluebird swooped down, causing Kandace to leap back and duck her head. But the thing landed easily on the kid’s shoulder and he tilted his head toward it, nuzzling it with his hair. “Hey, Rocky,” he said. “Go on. I’m busy right now.” He gave his shoulder a small shake and the bird flew away, soaring smoothly into the morning sky.
Kandace took a step forward. “What are you? A bird whisperer too?”
He made a small sound of humor. “He fell out of his nest when he was a baby. I fed him and now, he doesn’t know how to be a wild bird. It happens sometimes. I’m not sure why, but it does.”
“Huh,” Kandace said. This kid was interesting to say the least. She glanced around. The door to the shed faced the trees and was hidden from the view of the house. The kid eased the door open, and she followed him inside. Dusty shafts of pearly light floated from the one window high on the wall, and Kandace looked around at the piles of old tools and paint cans. She looked up, noticing that the ceiling was clean of cobwebs and dust, and the floor was swept of dirt and debris. Upon closer inspection, it appeared as though the kid had cleaned it, and then re-piled the junk to make it look unused.
A secret hospital in the midst of a war-torn land, that treated nature’s children.
The kid ducked behind a pile of rusty junk, bending to set the fox down somewhere safe and hidden, and then straightened, joining her near the door.
When they turned, Kandace let out a startled gasp. A young girl stood there, staring icily at her. Kandace blinked, the fact that the girl had a cleft palate registering. “Hi.”
The girl said nothing, her eyes finally sliding to the boy. “Another one?” she asked, her expression warming.
“Yeah. A fox,” he murmured, his gaze moving nervously between Kandace and the girl.
The girl looked back at Kandace. “Can she be trusted?”
Indignation filled Kandace. Who did this little shit think she was? As quickly as the thought came though, her ire slipped. This girl was the abandoned kid of some teenage runaway. And she didn’t have to wonder what this girl’s “damage” was.
“I think so, Georgia.” the kid muttered.
“I can be trusted,” Kandace asserted, a cloud parting and a ray of sun causing her to squint. “I have to go though. Now.” She pushed past the girl. “Bye, Dr. Dreamboat,” she called. She glanced back once to see that the girl—Georgia, was that what he’d said?—had turned to watch her leave, that same frosty stare stuck firmly to her damaged face. And not for the first time, Kandace wondered how a place that demanded sinlessness could mistreat and discard children . . . in any way.
