This was written maybe... half a year ago, when I was on holiday in Turkey, but recently re-written. It tells the story of a nineteen-year-old girl, by the name of Kestrel Skye, who is better known as Clay. This over with, I shall begin to tell of Clay.
~ The Authour.
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Living in an Orphanage isn’t that bad when you don’t care about your family. That is exactly why I don’t care that I live here.
I’ve lived here since I was six, and I have never really wanted to live with a proper family, hence the fact that I’m now nineteen and I still live here.
My name’s Clay.
OK, it isn’t really, I’m actually called Kestrel, but everyone calls me Clay because I don’t like my real name, because of my STUPID family.
I’m small and thin, with long black hair, in which I have put white patches and highlights.
It was actually my boyfriend, Robert (although he wasn’t my boyfriend when he started calling me Clay. We didn’t really get on so well), who first called me Clay, because when I came here, I wouldn’t speak to anyone or move much (although I did have a badly-sprained wrist, which took ages to heal), so he said I was sort of like one of those creepy clay dolls. I didn’t actually mind him saying that, and that is where my nickname comes from.
I had a sprained wrist because my Father died before I was born. This might not seem like a reason, but my Mother - Finch - stopped looking after herself after my Father - Raven - was killed in a road accident. So, my brother - Crow - was born dead, I was born extremely weak and frail, and my sister - Rook - was born blind.
I looked after her. Until I was six, at least, when she fell down a ravine. I fell too, because she pulled me down. I got off with superficial scratching and bruising: the worst injury was a sprained wrist. Rook, on the other hand, was killed instantly by the impact, and that caused my Mother to commit suicide. So, I came to the Orphanage, which is where I still am.
Robert and I are the same age, actually (I’m two weeks the older, actually, but, you know). I’ve never really had a distinct style of my own, but Robert says I tend to lean towards Goth/Emo.
Not so.
I wear black because it shows off my figure, and I wear the Iron Cross bracelets and choker (a little controversial) because Robert gave them to me for a birthday present. So, I am most certainly NOT a Goth/Emo.
I don’t know any of my family, but I probably have some somewhere. An aunt and a cousin, or something. Given the fact that I don’t want to know them, however, I couldn’t care less.
One morning, when I had just got dressed and was trying to find my Iron Cross Choker, because I can never find it, for some reason, Shellie (the head of the Orphanage) came in to my room.
“Hi, Shellie.” I opened one of my drawers and found the Choker. “Ah-hah.” I clipped it on; making sure the cross was straight.
“Hi, Clay,” she said, drumming her fingers on the doorframe. “Could you come downstairs, please?” she asked.
“OK. Just a second, though,” I replied, and then scribbled a quick note to Robert:
“Shellie wanted me to come downstairs. Be back in about an hour (work to do at the PDSA place) so don’t worry if you can’t find me,
Love you,
~ Clay.”
I padded downstairs, wearing my favorite black jacket for some absurd reason, and did a double-take.
I’m serious; it was so weird. A girl - about my age - and a boy, also about my age, were sitting in Shellie’s office. This was not just weird because most people in Orphanages are not nineteen years old, but that the girl looked like an older version of my sister.
No. She couldn’t be. She just couldn’t! Rook died. I still remember it, so this. Cannot. Be. Rook.
“Uh, hi,” I said shyly, smiling.
“She’s blind,” the boy said coolly. “My triplet sister. We’re hoping to be un-split-up from our other sister, Kestrel. If it isn’t a rude question, you wouldn’t know where she is, would you?”
OK, this was weird.
Really, really weird.
“Uh, that’s me…” I said worriedly.
The boy grinned. He had exactly the same smile as me, even lowering his eyebrows a bit.
“Hey, that’s great!” he said cheerily. “I’m Crow and she’s Rook.”
“Yeah…” I said. “I know that much.” Blinking, I shook my head.
“This is strange, huh?” Rook said. She was just like the Rook I saw die. “Heh. Three-year-olds are so resilient.”
“They are?” I replied, lightening up a little. “Because one of them here seems to have PTSD. And is avoidant. He just doesn’t talk much, I guess…” I muttered.
“You seem to be going down by degrees, Kessy,” Crow said, and then paused. “You don’t mind me calling you that do you?”
“No, it’s fine.” I paused, smirking. “Oh, and Rook?”
“Yeah?”
“We were six,” I said. Rook smirked and then frowned, looking somewhat puzzled.
“I hear footsteps,” she muttered. “Where exactly are we?” she asked.
Crow sighed, looking somewhat exasperated.
“For the millionth time, we’re in a cross between an Orphanage and a Halfway House,” he replied. He, like me, had a lot of patience, which would most likely be something of a blessing. “Kess, what do you think this place is?”
“Home,” I replied bluntly. “Although it’s technically a Residential Home.”
Crow shrugged.
“That’s one way to put it.”
“I’ll show you around,” I said suddenly. Crow smiled, and Rook took hold of his sleeve.
As we went out of the office, I almost tripped over Rook (not my sister Rook, but the other Rook, a three year old resident of the Home), but just managed to jump out of the way.
“Sorry!” I giggled. “I swear, kid, if you had a pound for every time I’ve nearly tripped over you, you would be extremely rich!” I paused and picked Rook up. “Rook and Crow, this is… Aw man, this is embarrassing! This is also Rook.”
Rook looked up at me, frowning and obviously questioning my sanity.
“It’s a long story,” I replied to his unspoken question.
“Good morning,” said a cool voice behind us. Rook jolted.
“Hey Oak,” I said without even turning around.
“How are you, Clay?” he asked.
“Somewhat puzzled,” I replied.
Oak didn’t even ask, and just looked at the three of us, somewhat puzzled.
“Well,” he said. “That’s interesting.”
“Yes. It would appear that the system is out to confuse me. Or get me,” I said. He did understand - I think - and knew who Rook and Crow were - I think. Then again, there was never any way of telling. This was Oak I was talking to, after all. He was pretty much clueless about people, poor thing.
“So,” I said. Rook frowned at me (both the younger and older one), and Crow looked at me as though I was crazy.
I smiled slightly.
“Anyway, things have become confusing all of a sudden,” Oak said, as though he were plotting something that he didn’t want me to know about. “You haven’t seen Lily lately, have you?” he asked. I shook my head.
“I’m afraid not, Oak.” I frowned, wondering what he was conspiring about: it was starting: a, to get weird, and b, to get annoying. “OK, I have to ask,” I said. He nodded. “Are you conspiring against me, or something?” I asked, and then paused. “What month is it?”
“October,” Oak replied. I frowned, thinking about what happened in October. Hallowe’en, which I refused to participate in. Something else happened as well in October, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was.
“OK, what happens in October, other than Halloween? I’m dying to know,” I said. Oak laughed.
“I can’t believe you’ve forgotten, Clay! On the 28th: that party thing!” he said.
“Oh, great. And this year it’s my turn to organize, isn’t it?” I sighed, and then turned to look at Rook and Crow. “Sorry, you two. I’m going to be so preoccupied until the 28th, and I’m not going to be able to talk to anyone!” I paused. “And you’ll thank me for it, more likely than not: I’ll be like a bear with a sore head until all this is over,” I said tiredly. Crow shrugged.
“I don’t mind,” he said.
Rook shrugged her thin shoulders.
“I don’t mind either.”
“And, since you guys are over fifteen - there are certain things there that require being at least fifteen -, there shall be perks,” I said.
“Oh!” Oak said suddenly. “On that note, at least two people will be fifteen by then - come to think of it, they have their birthday on the day!” he said.
“Who?” I asked, confused, thinking about it. “Oh, right!” I said. “Cedric and Sheldon.” I chuckled. “Heh. Thorny’s really gonna thank us for that.”
“Heh. Anyway, I have my own work to do,” Oak said, and rushed off, coat flying out behind him. I wondered where Lily was.
“If you were wondering, that was Oak. And no. He isn’t older than us. Just taller,” I said.
Rook frowned, and then shrugged.
“Can’t say I could tell how old he was - or anything else about him,” she said. “Other than the fact that he was there,” she added hurriedly, tugging on the sleeve of her grey cardigan.
“Well, you’ve met two people - three if you count me, but Rook already knows me,” I said. Rook nodded. “If it isn’t a rude question, what actually happened?”
“I was in a coma for a few weeks, and when I came round, they couldn’t find you and Mum again, so I was sent to a home. I literally found out about Crow (I thought he was dead too) on my seventeenth birthday, and we set about tracking our big sister down,” she explained. Crow nodded.
Crow was just a little taller than me, and he looked somewhat like an adult Younger Rook (although I imagine that Rook would be taller than him - just a thought though; I couldn’t really be sure, since I didn’t know the average for three-year-olds). He had black hair, just shorter than shoulder length (probably shoulder length if he raised his shoulders) and silver eyes, like mine (Rook’s were a very bright, almost turquoise, shade of blue). Unlike me, he was quite strongly built (I imagined that he could probably overpower me if he could really be bothered to, although I doubted whether or not he could: he’d really only watched things so far, and had spoken very little), but still not very tall: about average for a twelve-year-old boy who was on the short end of the average (in the same way I was the same sort of height as a twelve-year-old on the short of average), and Rook was about the average height of a fourteen-year old: she was a bit taller than Crow, making me the smallest. Damn. Still shorter than everyone around my own age - particularly Robert, who is something like six foot).
“And, by the looks of it, you succeeded,” I said.
“Well, would we be standing in front of you if we hadn’t?” Crow asked.
“So, where did you live, Crow?” I asked. He smiled.
“With a foster-family. I didn’t really like them so much, but… What the heck?” He looked up at the ceiling, and Rook turned her head so that her eyes were towards the ceiling. “What is that?”
“Either people arguing, a herd of elephants, or someone falling down-stairs. Or all three, or a combination of two.”
“Fair enough,” Crow said. Rook grumbled irritably. “Cover your ears if it annoys you that much,” Crow said. Rook did so.
Younger Rook was asleep, and therefore completely oblivious to the kafuffle going on above our heads, but us three siblings (it’s great to use that word when referring to one’s self) were staring (or not in Rook’s case) at the ceiling, and pondering what was going on.
Before long, though, the noise stopped. I frowned and looked at Rook and Crow. Crow looked back, but Rook was elsewhere (and blind, therefore incapable of ‘looking’ anywhere: as Gilbert and Sullivan put it in the Pirates of Penzance: “Being Mermaids, they cannot truly be said to set ‘foot’ anywhere: tails they may, but feel they may not!”) mentally.
“That was…” Crow seemed lost for words. I raised my eyebrows.
“You get used to it,” I replied. He frowned.
“Doubt it,” he said.
“No, you will,” I replied confidently. Crow raised his eyebrows slightly.
“Doubt it,” he repeated.[/spoiler]
