Chapter 1

Dennis Raveley had unique eyes; not many people liked those eyes when they first met him, and thus not many people came to like him, after first disliking those eyes of his.

His eyes were a dark grayish color that suited his extremely pale face. So pale was this face that should he lay down inside a coffin and remained still, an observer could have mistaken him for dead. This appearance caused people to believe he is sick and call him 'a sickly boy'. Dennis did not mind this, because in a strange way he was pleased about how he looked and always possessed a fair reservoir of self-esteem as the result of such positive self image, all in spite of his loveless upbringing.

Dennis had very big eyes and long eyelashes. If he had been born without those gray eyes and if he had been born a girl, those features would have made him quite beautiful. His chin was slight and angular, and a small, sharply pointed nose sat above his mouth, which were framed by two thin, wide and not very fleshy lips. His short, groomed hair was a dull black color; it blew in the wind and would become puffy no matter how much the matron of the orphanage tried to press it down with a comb.

The orphanage where Dennis lived since he was brought there at the age of five was an old, Victorian structure that had never been renovated since it was built. Surprisingly, there was never a rat infestation at the orphanage. Somehow, despite being in the oldest section of the city, rats had avoided this ancient structure. The orphanage was a large building. It had been built as a boarding school, and served as one until it was replaced by a newer school nearby, when it was converted into an orphanage run by the state. The building had fifty rooms in the dormitories. The number of rooms grew as the size of the city grew; the old neighborhood were the former boarding school was built had become steadily poorer, and abandonment was common among young children, these children were ever so often left on the steps of the orphanage, so as more and more children were left in its care, the orphanage divided rooms that had formerly been spacious classrooms into cubicles to create more dorms. Altogether, by the time Dennis arrived at the orphanage, there were one hundred and twenty rooms in the orphanage, housing more than five hundred children.

Dennis didn’t have any friends; no one liked him because they could never stand looking at him in the eye, and neither could any of the forty social workers at the orphanage. They paid no attention to him and didn’t know he was there, and when they did know, they tried to ignore him. When he was seven years old, Dennis found a pair of sunglasses on the sidewalk outside the orphanage. He kept it and wore it around the other children and councilors at the orphanage, so they did not have to look in his eye if they wanted to become his friend. It did not work.

Dennis kept the sunglasses anyway. A lot of women were wearing them because large sunglasses were a fashion trend in those days; Dennis was pleased with himself when he found out that he was following a trend, but more so because large, thick-rimmed glasses looked very nice on him. Four years later, the orphanage councilors discovered that Dennis was nearsighted. Since he sat at the back of the class in school, he had to frequently walk to the front of the glass to read what was on the blackboard because he couldn’t see from the back at all. Getting eyeglasses did not trouble Dennis much; like the pair of bulky sunglasses, thick lenses also looked quite nice on him, especially because his already large eyes were even further magnified, and Dennis developed a habit of looking at himself in the mirror for long periods of time, in silence.

This was precisely what Dennis was doing when one evening he was summoned to the matron’s office. It was a Thursday before the Mid-March school vacations, and Dennis was staring at his reflection in the window of his little dorm room, his chin supported by two elbows propped on his desk next to his bed.

The matron’s ward entered without knocking. Checking the note he had in his hand, he said, ‘Raveley Dennis, the matron summons you to her office, right now, go.’

Dennis turned around in the chair he was sitting in and put on his glasses. ‘Okay.’ He said quietly. Dennis got up and followed the ward down his hallway, past the rows of doors, and into the administration wing of the building.

The administration wing was modeled after the school he attends, two blocks from the orphanage. The walls were newer than in the dorms, and the ceiling had less cracks in them. However, the single hallway of the wing was significantly darker, lit by dangling lamplights from the ten feet tall ceiling. The floor was wooden and creaky. The hallway echoes the footsteps of anyone who passes.

The matron’s office was at the end of the hallway, facing the straight hallway directly. Dennis had only been to the matron’s office on two occasions. Once when he first arrived at the orphanage, which he could not remember, and one other time when another child dumped a bucket of dishwater on him because the boy didn’t like how Dennis looked and had to apologize to him personally in the matron’s office.

They approached the matron’s office briskly. The ward knocked on the wood and Dennis heard the matron say, ‘Enter!’ The ward ushered Dennis into the office and left, closing the door without another word.

Dennis stood inside the doorway of the matron’s office and looked around. The walls of the office were whitewashed. The matron sat at the far end of the long room, behind a wide desk. Behind here hung a life-sized portrait of her, a plump, mid-aged woman with a powerful build, rigid posture, and a hard, steel gaze. The blind were drawn over the windows on either side of the room, and the office was illuminated by two tall lamps behind the matron’s armchair, one on each side, like two pillars. Filing cabinets and bookshelves stacked with books lined the walls, and framed items hung above them.

‘I did not instruct you to look around as you please, Dennis. Come over here.’ The matron indicated for him to move forward.

Dennis nodded. He walked forward towards the matron’s desk, where she was reading several papers clutched in her hand. He took a seat in one of the three armchairs in front of the matron’s desk. The matron looked up.

‘I did not say you can sit down, Dennis.’

Dennis nodded and got back up and stood next to the armchair.

‘Now, say, may I sit down, ma’am?’

‘May I sit down, ma’am.’ Dennis said.

‘Yes you may,’ the matron put the papers she was reading onto her desk and looked at him. She picked the papers up again and held them up for his to see. Dennis adjusted his glasses and looked at them.

‘Do you know what these papers are?’ The matron said.

‘No, ma’am.’ Dennis replied.

‘Quite the simpleton you are, aren’t you?’ The matron said, she shuffled the papers, ‘This is your mother’s will, she had written it shortly before her death and I had witnessed it personally. Do you remember your mother?’

‘No, ma’am.’ Dennis replied.

‘Are you interested in what your mother has left for you in her will, Dennis?’

Dennis thought for a bit, ‘I don’t know, ma’am.’

‘Of course you don’t, I should expect you to know nothing of the sort. Do you wish me to explain it to you in terms you can understand?’

‘I don’t know that either, ma’am.’

‘You’re certainly not like the other orphans, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘So that you’re sure of,’ the matron snickered, ‘well, you’re sure right about that, you’re nothing like the others, you’re less. You know that, don’t you?’

‘I don’t know, ma’am.’

‘Well now you do, because I can confirm it, so don’t think you’re anything special, because you’re not, is that clear?’

‘Okay, ma’am.’

‘Yes. It’s yes, ma’am, not okay, ma’am.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Good, now, I’ve wasted enough time trying to get through to you, so here’s the bottom line, you’re getting out of here.’ The matron searched Dennis for any sign of an emotion other than his monotonous trance, there was none. She continued, ‘shortly before she passed away, your mother had come to this orphanage institution to deliver you. In her will, she stated that you are to remain here until the age of twelve, upon when you shall be dismissed from here to attend the Scholar Academy. Do you know what the Scholar Academy is?’

‘No, ma’am.’ Dennis replied.

‘Of course you don’t, it is the most prestigious collegiate institution in the country, the Scholar Academy of the Americas. It is near the East Atlantic Coast, across the country from here. Your mother, in her will, had left you a large sum of money as tuition for you to attend the academy, though I can’t began to imagine what good a private school education could have possibly serve you.’ The matron paused to sigh heavily, ‘I see no promise in you, Dennis, you are already fourteen years of age, is that correct?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Good, then you can do the math and see that your mother had meant for you to leave here two years ago. Me, I didn’t see how you could have made it out there two years ago, you weren’t ready, and I still don’t even though you’re now two years older, but your mother’s wishes must be honored, so I have no choice but to dismiss you, it can wait no longer.

‘You will leave in the morning, your bag must be packed tonight, and you shall do so immediately upon returning to your dorm.’ The matron finished and looked at him with disgust. Dennis’ eyes were downcast, and the matron was relieved she did not have to look at them.

Dennis looked up, his eyes, magnified through his lenses, locked with the matron’s beady eyes, she froze.

‘May I go now, ma’am.’ Dennis requested.

The matron choked on her words, she quickly recovered and gestured for Dennis to get out of her office. Dennis bowed and left for the door, leaving the matron with a disturbed sensation at having seen something extremely unsettling.

The ward had waited outside the office for him and led him back to his dorm room, where he set about packing his bag for a new life.