Eternity

Eternity

M.E. Timmons

Copyright 2012 M.E.
Timmons

Smashwords Edition,
Licence Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although
this
is a free book, it
remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be
reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial
purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends
to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also
discover other works by this author. Thank you for your
support.

Chapter 1

I entered the
room just in time to narrowly avoid getting hit in the head with a
flying lamp, which hit the wall next to me and smashed into dozens
of pieces. I stood there paralyzed for a second, but when I looked
up at Jack’s face I relaxed. There was guilt written all over
him.

“Sorry,
Juliet,” he mumbled to me. “I didn’t see you there.”

I was prevented
from replying by Ms. Holland, who was the head of Pembrook Home,
the orphanage in which we lived. She was glaring angrily at Jack,
who was starting to look sheepish.

“Mr. Leewood, I
don’t care what problems you have with the way I run things around
here. I will not tolerate such behaviour.”

Jack buckled
slightly under the power of her gaze. Even after living in Pembrook
his whole life, he was as affected by Ms. Holland as the rest of
us. At least, most of the time. There were times recently, and
becoming more frequent, that he lost his temper regardless of who
he was with.

“I’m sorry, Ms.
Holland,” he said, not quite meeting the older woman’s eyes. “I
don’t know what came over me.”

“Well, whatever
it was, it’s becoming a problem,” she snapped. “Perhaps a weekend
helping Mrs. Jameson in the kitchen will teach you a lesson. I
expect you to report to her at seven o’clock in the morning
tomorrow and Sunday, and not a minute later. She will decide when
you are free.”

With that she
turned and started to storm out, but she stopped right in front of
me, turning to Jack again. “Don’t forget to clean up that mess,”
she barked, indicating the shattered lamp on the floor. With a
withering glance in my direction, she finally exited.

“Jack...” I
started, but he held up a hand to stop me.

“I know Jules.
It just happened again. It’s like I can’t control myself.”

I nodded,
deciding not to say anything. I knew he felt bad enough as it was.
“I’ll go get the broom,” I said instead.

As I went to
the supply closet, I thought about Jack, who had been my best
friend since I ended up at Pembrook at the age of three. I was
sixteen now, so that was a long time ago. Jack was the only person
who was there for longer than me, since he had been living there
for almost his entire life.

Jack was the
nicest person I knew. Ever since he turned sixteen, however, his
temper had been getting worse, and even he had no idea why. He even
lost his temper with me at times, and I was his best friend. I knew
he felt bad about it, of course, but it surprised me every time his
normally soft brown eyes sparked with anger. I had a theory about
it, but I kept it to myself. He wouldn’t believe me anyway.

I brought the
broom to Jack and sat down on the couch as he cleaned up the pieces
of broken glass, since he wouldn’t let me help. We were in the
living room, which had scuffed white walls and mismatched
furniture. It was normally a well-used room, but most of the
younger kids were outside, enjoying the sun after getting back from
school. The older kids tended to spend most of their free time in
their own rooms, where they had a small measure of privacy. Jack
and I both tended to avoid our rooms, though, especially because we
couldn’t be together in either.

“You know, this
kind of gets in the way of our weekend plans,” I commented, just as
Jack finished sweeping the last pieces of lamp into the ancient
metal dustpan he was holding.

“If you mean
taking a trip to the library, then I’m not going to complain.”

I raised my
eyebrows. “You honestly think working in the kitchen is going to be
better than going to the library?” Jack’s aversion to books was one
of the few things we didn’t have in common.

He shrugged,
smiling. “At least there’s something to do in the kitchen.”

I threw a
pillow at him.

***

The next day
came quickly enough, and I was glad it was the weekend, even though
I didn’t get to spend it with my best friend. At least I could go
to the library without listening to him complain. I smiled at the
thought.

I didn’t end up
spending a lot of time there. I went late in the morning, and found
several interesting-looking books almost immediately. Once my arms
were full, there was no point in hanging around. It was almost time
for lunch, which was only available at Pembrook at a specific time,
and I didn’t have the money to eat out. I caught a bus back.

When I got to
my room, I was careful to put the books away under my bed, which
was a bottom bunk. I didn’t want any of my five roommates to touch
them, not that they had any interest in reading. I then selected
one and curled up in my favourite chair near the window.

Two of my
roommates, Jill and Stephanie, sat in another corner of the room,
gossiping about George, the newest arrival at Pembrook. There were
rumours that he’d set his last foster home on fire, though I didn’t
believe that. They didn’t care about that, however. They just
thought he was cute.

I was used to
their nearly constant chatter, so I blocked it out and read my
book. It was an encyclopaedia that went from Jo to Lu. I was sure
Jack would have cringed to see me reading such a thing, but I found
the section about kings quite interesting. Soon I was lost in a
world of ancient wars and bloodlines.

A knock at the
door startled me. I looked up and saw Mr. Andrews peeking his head
in. He was the maintenance man, but since help was short at
Pembrook he had other odd jobs as well, including distributing the
mail. I saw a bundle of envelopes in his hand as he shuffled slowly
into the room. I waved, and he smiled at me. I had always liked Mr.
Andrews, since he had a quiet and peaceful nature, but many of the
other kids were afraid of him or just didn’t like him. I didn’t
think that was fair, since their only reason was the scars that
marred the skin on his arms and the left side of his face, which
were the result of a childhood trauma.

Mr. Andrews
went over to Stephanie and Jill, and handed an envelope to the
former. Stephanie often got letters from her brother, who was with
a foster family somewhere in Montana. She squealed in delight and
started ripping the letter open, and I turned back to my book.

A shadow fell
over me, and I looked up to see Mr. Andrews standing there, holding
out an envelope.

“There’s a
letter for you, Miss,” he said.

I looked at it
sceptically, and then looked back up at him. “For me? Are you
sure?” I had never gotten mail before of any kind because I had no
living relatives and no friends out in the world other than
Jack.

Mr. Andrews
smiled and placed the letter beside me on my bed, since I had made
no move to grab it from him. “I’m quite sure, Miss. It says Juliet
White on it. You’re the only one with that name here.” He smiled
kindly and left the room, leaving me with my mysterious letter.

It was a large
white envelope, and the writing on the outside was dark green and
embossed, which made it look quite professional. It was definitely
my name in the address. I wondered briefly if it was some kind of
joke, but I was too curious to care.

Just as I
reached to open the letter, I caught sight of Stephanie and Jill in
their corner, watching me. They had never seen me get mail before
either, and were looking at me curiously.

I got up
quickly and left the room, taking the envelope with me. I didn’t
like the thought of opening it with them watching me, since the
letter felt somehow private. I went downstairs and walked through
the house. I passed the playroom, where Ms. Holland was trying to
gain control over a hoard of young children. The noise was loud,
but I was used to it.

As I went by
the kitchen I remembered Jack, and had a sudden urge to tell him
about the letter. If there was one person I could share it with, it
would be him. I was about to go through the door when he walked
out, and almost bumped right into me. He jumped back in surprise
and grinned. He had a smudge of flour on his cheek, and there were
wet spots on his shirt from washing dishes.

“Hey, you got
one too!” he said, waving an envelope in my face. It had dark green
embossed writing, just like mine. “I was coming to find you.”

“It’s
interesting that we both got them. Do you think anyone else did
too? Stephanie and Jill didn’t.”

“I don’t know.
There were only a couple of others in the kitchen, and they didn’t
get any mail. Want to open them together?”

“Of course, but
let’s go somewhere private. I don’t want anyone else to see.” We
both knew that somewhere private excluded pretty much everywhere in
the building, so we started heading outside.

“George was in
the kitchen today. That guy really creeps me out. Did you hear that
he almost burnt down a house?”

I rolled my
eyes. “Yes, I heard. It’s probably not even true. Remember the time
when Joe said he killed his stepmother when she really just went to
rehab? He was just looking for attention.”

“True. That was
different, though. Everyone knew Joe liked to tell stories. George
is really quiet and mean-looking, though.”

“I’m sure the
truth will come out sooner or later.”

We stepped
outside. The backyard was fenced in but large. We had to dodge some
kids playing soccer, and then we made our way to the far corner
where a giant oak tree stood. It threatened to knock the fence over
if it grew any wider, but it had not yet succeeded. The tree had
long been a favourite spot of ours, and we each had favourite roots
to sit on that had our initials carved into them. That was where we
sat.

“Do you want to
go first?” I asked. I already had ideas floating around in my head
about what was in the envelopes, and they were making my heart
pound. I wasn’t sure if it was fear or excitement that made that
happen.

“No, you go
first,” Jack said. I could tell he was nervous, and probably hoped
that the letters were a way out of Pembrook Home. It was a hope
that I shared.

I didn’t argue,
and opened mine first. There were several sheets of paper inside,
and something else at the bottom. I turned the envelope upside down
and dumped the contents into my lap. The last thing that fell out
interested us both the most.

“Is that a
plane ticket?” Jack asked. It was. I looked at it carefully.

“Munich? Why
would I go to Munich?” I wondered out loud, and I was getting
excited. I shuffled through the papers on my lap, and found
something else that interested me. It was a passport. The picture
was my school photo from earlier that year.

Jack started to
open his envelope then since he couldn’t contain his excitement. He
pulled out a plane ticket for the same flight as mine, and his
passport. Then we read our letters for a few minutes in silence. I
could see that Jack was getting less excited.

“A school? I
was hoping for something far more interesting than that,” he
complained. He was the kind of person who preferred to be outdoors
as opposed to sitting in a classroom listening to a teacher
repeatedly telling people to stop talking. I liked school, but only
because I liked to learn.

“It sounds
interesting to me,” I said. “It’s a boarding school, so we won’t
have to live here anymore, and we get to go to Germany. What were
you expecting that could be better than that?”

“I don’t know,”
Jack grumbled. “Something that doesn’t involve schoolwork. Not
everyone likes studying as much as you do. Private schools are
supposed to be way harder than public schools.”

“Who cares?
It’s in Germany!”

“True...” Jack
said. I could tell he was considering it.

That was how we
both ended up on a flight to Munich on August 30th. Pembrook had
also received a letter, telling them that we had both been invited
to attend school in Germany, and we had somehow both become
emancipated. With the cost of our travel already covered and no
tuition to pay for, Pembrook was eager to get rid of us to make
room for more homeless children and teenagers. We were quite glad
to be leaving anyway, and excited to be going somewhere new for the
first time.

Chapter 2

We were headed
to Winterwood Academy, an English-speaking school in the German
countryside. I had never heard of it, and no one else had either.
During our computer time on Tuesdays I had looked up the school and
found nothing. It was like it didn’t even exist.