Chpater 1
The Snowperson
It was difficult to remember how it started, but sometimes one could recall a tremendous amount of information from starting at the end. Or at least, as close to the end as one could get? All the greatest stories began there, someone told her.
The adults of the Rose Garden Orphanage left one by one, disappearing into the night like spooked owls. Perhaps the task of taking care of unruly orphans was too difficult; it was a different time, and the Depression had just begun. Or maybe it was something more sinister…?
Winter in the Orphanage was a double-edged sword. Fine frosts and holly could certainly turn the imposing manor into a cozy-looking place; it was delightful to be inside while snowstorms raged on, a well-fed fireplace and a few whispered stories turning the empty hallways into magical, flickering fights in the middle of the day sometimes brought joy as well; Xavier would always find a way to slip on the ice as everyone laughed.
But warmth was a rare sight here. It was a cold place, no matter the season: withering stares and scoffs turned anyone's heart to ice. Even when Mr. Hoffman and Martha were around, there was no escaping unkind words and mean tricks. Their larger-than-life presence now gone, the manor had an even emptier feeling, giving one the impression of being trapped inside a lifeless fishbowl. No, winter made hardly any difference in the Rose Garden Orphanage- it was still just as cold, just as lifeless, just as cruel.
Jennifer stood in front of the Club Room, shaking her head mournfully at that Month's Gift: "Food". That was all it said.
She walked slowly away from the door, the giggles of Aristocrats echoing in the depths of the room behind her. How it rankled her soul to hear their whispers! What wouldn't she give to be part of the group, to be able to share secrets, play games, feel loved by them! But it was impossible. As the lowest ranking member under the Rule of Rose, Jennifer had no chance of even being acknowledged by the elite group. It felt ridiculous to even want their attention; never in her ten years did Jennifer ever behold a more cruel group of girls. They reveled in her misery, took mischievous joy in her punishments and seemed to want nothing more than to pulverize her deep into the dirt. "Never forget your place, Irritating" Meg had once told her, her voice dripping with condescension.
Still, something about them always pulled Jennifer towards them. There seemed to be a powerful aura of mystique and beauty around them, and like a magnet, she found herself playing their games month after month. It would be easy to run away- she could get a basket for Brown, perhaps steal one of the bicycles in the basement, and be gone before morning. But she could never, not while they held their power over her. Besides, there was Wendy to think about; how could she ever consider leaving her behind?
"Breakfast!" shrieked Xavier from the stairway below. Jennifer felt her feet slowly shuffle her towards them, cringing at the possibility of new torment she'd get while retrieving her breakfast. She wouldn't eat with them at the dining room of course; a lowly Irritating didn't get that privilege. She hoped she could sneak in and out as quickly as she could before the mean glares and snickers could be hurled her way.
The kitchen was in an unusually dour mood. Clara, looking quite put-upon, was stirring a large vat of porridge. As each child walked in, she'd slop a curiously small amount into a bowl and handed it to her arriving customers.
"Why so little?" Susan lisped, frowning, as she held her meagre breakfast. Clara gave a small shrug- "we're running quite low".
Ah, so perhaps that was the reason for this month's gift: the food supplies. Meg has certainly brought it up early enough after Martha had been disposed of. There were plenty of murmurs and shaking heads during that meeting, but it had been decided that Clara could be trusted to go to the market and pawn some wares to buy food with its earnings. Curious that this seemed to be given up. Was something wrong with Clara?
"Out of the way, Filthy Jennifer!" Nicholas cried as he shoved her out of the way. Ah, so much for passing by unnoticed. In fact, Nicholas' shout seemed to invoke a bright spotlight on her immediately- Olivia and Susan began to giggle.
"Indeed" said a drawling voice behind them, "Out of the way, Filthy Jennifer". Diana, wearing her rank like a crown, smirked as she made her way in front of the line. A hush fell on the room and Clara's face turned bright red as she served The Duchess a much more substantial plate. Xavier frowned at this but even he seemed too cowed to voice his opinions. She walked, regal as royalty, to the exclusive section of the cafeteria (near the large window with the best sunlight, of course). Slowly, the rest of the Aristocrats followed- Meg, her shrewd eyes analyzing every detail around her and sprinting to sit next to her beloved Diana. They both pointed and laughed, enjoying seeing Jennifer's face become even redder than Clara's. Eleanor, in contrast, was completely silent. Her eyes were cold and she barely paid attention to the food in front her.
Jennifer was quite close now- she held out a bowl to receive her food. "Hungry, Irritating?" sneered Thomas, who promptly scooped up a handful of porridge and hurled it onto Jennifer's face. The cafeteria was immediately thrown into an uproar, and while most of the children laughed and pointed, Diana promptly stood up. She made a beeline to Thomas and, as soon as she reached him, gave him a resounding slap.
Instant silence. For a heartbeat, no one understood what happened. Was the Duchess defending the Irritating? What on earth could such a bizarre display mean?
Diana, her eyes cold, looked at the cowering boy. Thomas seemed too shocked to cry, and instead looked up at the girl, his eyes moist and alarmed. "Don't. Waste. Food" she hissed, every word spat out in hatred and frustration. Thomas nodded mutely, and with her message delivered clearly, she turned to Clara: "Close it up then".
Jennifer, clutching her empty bowl, watched helplessly as Clara closed the vat's lid. Her eyes seemed to ask the question wordlessly, since Diana smiled sweetly at her expression and said mockingly, "Thomas just gave you your share of food, Filthy".
The poor, unlucky girl walked all the way to the Filth room, her legs as heavy as lead. How was she going to do her daily tasks when she was this hungry and headachy? She decided to take a quick detour to the sick room to take some aspirin and say hello to Wendy. Her smiling face was usually enough to make her days a bit more bearable.
"Jennifer!" cried Wendy, her face practically shining at the sight of her friend. As usual, the small frail blonde could be found in the sick room, lying calmly in her bed. "How was breakfast today?"
"It was fine" she replied with a tight smile- the last thing she wanted was to worry her. She heard Susan mention she was bringing Wendy a plate, so she could at least rest assured the bedridden girl wouldn't go hungry. It was almost comforting to know that while the Aristocrats were monsters, they weren't beasts.
"I wish we had something other than porridge though...did you see this month's gift?"
"Food! How specific" Jennifer replied with an exasperated eye-roll.
"I do miss bacon for breakfast" muttered Wendy, and both girls laughed. It seemed ages since they last had a complete breakfast. Or a good laugh. It was ridiculous to think of those first few months in the Orphanage as "The good old days", yet there they were, reminiscing about lessons and tactfully leaving out any mention of Sir Peter- Wendy was still quite sore about the subject.
"Well if we do manage to get a pig, I hope there's enough for all of us" sighed Jennifer; "I need to bring Brown something more substantial- I'm almost out of bones".
There was a tense silence at these words, and Jennifer mentally kicked herself- as usual, Wendy was quite upset at the mention of her special friend. Try as she might, it seemed there was nothing she could do to get Wendy to love Brown as much as she did. Still, perhaps with a little time and some persuasion, she'd eventually come around and see what an adorable little pup he was.
"You better go do chores" Wendy said after a minute, a listless note in her voice. "I'd hate for them to be angry at you".
"Of course." she replied immediately. "I'll just be getting some aspirin before I go. And remember…?"
"Everlasting True Love" Wendy began, a small smile creeping back up on her face.
"I Am Yours" Jennifer finished with a grin. They might have their differences, but they truly were best friends forever.
Jennifer carefully opened the door of the sick room, determined to be in and out in a heartbeat. She hated the memories this room brought her, the things she saw still haunted her at night. Most unfortunately, she wasn't the only person there: Clara, the last person she wanted to see here, was sitting on the nearest chair, her eyes quite red.
"Oh" she said lamely, quickly rubbing her eyes. "I didn't know you were here".
"Sorry" Jennifer replied awkwardly, tentatively reaching for the aspirin jar. "Just getting some medicine".
She turned to leave, but despite all the memories and horrifying images, she couldn't bring herself to be quite so heartless. "Are you alright?" she finally asked.
Clara gave a short, hysterical laugh followed by a sniff. "Oh I'm just fine" she said with biting sarcasm, which was actually quite unlike her. Even she must have realized it, for she looked up with a pained, apologetic smile. "I promise I'm fine. It's just difficult today".
This was the first honest conversation the girls had in months. Clara generally seemed above Orphanage affairs- at 16, she was the oldest, prettiest and most experienced. She was once a figure of admiration and envy among the children, until her fall from grace. Jennifer had seen the medical tools in the attic. It was rumored she would go the same way Martha did, but as wonderful as adult-free society was, some sort of older figure was necessary to keep things in check. So despite her transgression, she was allowed to stay, but given strict orders not to contact any adults.
"I understand," Jennifer stated. It was a simple phrase as old as time, but Clara seemed to draw comfort in it. As the Unlucky Girl turned to leave, she realized she had reached into the wrong jar. She gave a small laugh- "Oh, these aren't the aspirin". She looked around, but the jar seemed to have been moved. "Did they take that jar too? Or did they put it away somewhere?".
Jennifer looked around, her eyes falling on a small drawer. She reached out to check, but was immediately stopped by Clara, who threw herself in front of it with such force she looked like a feral animal.
"Don't look in there!" she shrieked. The mixture of fury and sadness in her voice almost made her look unhinged, and forgetting the aspirin entirely, Jennifer ran out of the room, Clara's sobs following her for quite a bit before she reached her Filth Room in peace.
The day's chores continued as usual. Jennifer found herself washing clothes all day, but for once her thoughts weren't focused on ranks and crayons; instead, she found herself wondering what the plan was for food. Her stomach growled with each crank of the wringer; perhaps she could sneak in for a small bite? Surely there had to be some abandoned biscuit or scone, just waiting to be swiped. "Could you go for me?" she pleaded to her Knight (really, just a broom with a bucket atop its head), but as usual, he preferred to look on in sympathetic silence. Weakly, she went to bed, hoping the horrible sensation would be gone by morning.
The weight of her misery and hunger kept her in a deep sleep. Her dreams were punctuated by wails, shrieks, and images of bloody surgical equipment.
"I'm sorry...Sorry. Please! Please, forgive me." Who said that? The voice sounded so familiar...it felt so close, but muffled as though through a door.
"Forgive me! Please! Please! I…I…I…I…I won't do it again. Help me". Again, the voice seemed so familiar. Jennifer tried to say something but no sound came out. She felt as though she was in the bottom of a deep, deep well.
"Nothing I do makes it better. Nothing! I'm all alone. It hurts. I don't want to be alone. It's cold in here. What do I do? How can I get out?" Whoever it was, they needed help- she knew what it was like to be trapped, and the winter frost was probably hurting this poor creature.
"I don't want to go outside. But, I don't want to stay in here, either." She could relate. She, too, was trapped in this orphanage. Could it be-?
"Aaaaaaaaah!"
The scream pried her eyes open. Instantly, Jennifer sprang out of her bed and looked around- there was a tremendous crash, as though something heavy had fallen.. She looked out her window, and out the hall as well for good measure. Nothing. Pure silence.
The girl wondered if perhaps the noises were just her dreams. The memories were so horrifying in fact, that she found herself awake hours before sunrise, shaking pathetically in her quilted bed.
She wasn't sure what to do- it was much too early to begin the day, but the thought of sleeping and hearing those awful nightmares felt like an impossible task. The next particularly horrid growl from her stomach made the decision for her. Abandoning her post, she quietly walked through the halls of the Orphanage, a small girl on a Mission.
Jennifer shook her head at the doodles and graffiti that covered the floors and walls- with no Martha to supervise cleaning, the manor had truly fallen further into disarray. The Aristocrats refused to do any chores (of course), and the other girls were too young to do any serious work... and there was only so much Amanda, Clara and herself could do in a day. Still, the gleaming eyes of the imps drawn by Thomas were too disturbing. She'd have to get rid of those before they gave Olivia nightmares.
At last she made it to the kitchen- it was empty for now, which meant she had a perfect opportunity. As quiet as a mouse, she started opening every cabinet and drawer, hoping for some abandoned sweet treat she could take.
"It's really for the best"
The blood in her veins froze- even her heartbeat seemed to have stopped as Jennifer heard Meg's voice. Why on earth was she up at such an ungodly hour? If the Baroness herself caught her sneaking food…! There was no telling what ingeniously heinous device she's think up to torture her. Skittering like a startled cockroach, she dashed into the nearest empty cabinet and held her breath.
"Do you think it is?" came Eleanor's voice, her usual monotone carrying the smallest hint of doubt.
"Oh of course" Meg replied- she opened the door to the kitchen and suspiciously narrowed her eyes, looking for trouble. There were circles beneath both girls' eyes in fact, and Jennifer wondered if they had been up all night telling secrets again. Seeing that they were quite alone, Meg continued; but Jennifer noted her hands were shaking as they clutched her notebook: "She was useless anyway, we couldn't even trust her to go to market without spilling the beans. At least we can give her to Stray Dog. He must have his peas after all-"
Something in these words frightened Jennifer so terribly she couldn't even help herself- her shaking knees gave out and she tumbled out into the open, both Aristocrats gazing at her furiously.
"Jennifer" said Meg- by her tone, you'd think she was referring to a disgusting pest. "It's not nice at all to eavesdrop, you know. You seem to have a habit of it".
Jennifer was trembling- she didn't even want to begin to imagine what horrors were being brought her way, but before she could sputter an excuse, Meg's evil smile stopped her in her tracks.
"No need for excuses, Irritating" she smiled. "I already have a punishment lined up for you".
There was a dramatic pause as even Eleanor looked on curiously.
"We've had so much trash pile up. Won't you take it outside? It's rather stinky, so you'll have to go a little deeper into the woods and dispose of it".
Eleanor tittered and Jennifer's despair. Take the trash outside! It was true that that particular duty was being overlooked more and more as the weather got colder. No one could be convinced to run outside in the snow and set up the incinerator. And now here was Meg, casually asking her to go burn it as far away as possible, deep in the dark, chilling woods. One had to give her credit, cruelty was hardly interesting without her creative spin to it.
"I'll make sure you went nice and deep to get rid of it, Irritating. And remember, if you keep being as annoying as you are, we just might demote you again" she smiled another evil, slow smirk as both girls left the kitchen.
Jennifer's teeth began to chatter the second she stepped outside. Holding three large burlap sacks, she began her torturous pilgrimage to the depths of the woods. She had bundled up as much as possible, but it was difficult to find hole-less gloves or snow shoes that really fit her. Cursing her hunger and fear, she walked in the vast, empty countryside.
Never had she felt so heavy- her burdens made her walk even slower than usual, and the piercing wind gave howls that would've probably terrorized a grown man. Still, Jennifer's fear of further punishment trumped any other sensation as she continued her pace. The trees grew larger and more ominous, and despite the daylight, its high, dense branches gave the impression of a dark twilight.
Further and deeper she trudged, passing by a particularly large oak tree. She shuddered at the battered doll nestled in between its alcove- it looked a lot like her. In fact, she had caught Amanda here one night in the summer, bludgeoning the small figurine with all her might and rage. Apparently she still had not forgiven Jennifer for surpassing her in rank.
Feeling her lips turning a bit blue despite the woolen scarf she had draped around her head, she was relieved when she got to a particularly large clearing. It didn't look familiar, but it seemed large enough to burn the bags safely. She hoisted the heavy cargo at the very center and, with careful but trembling hands, drenched them in an old can of gasoline she found in the shed. She cautiously lit a match and threw it with a frightened shriek at the pile, watching the flames spread almost instantly. For a quick moment Jennifer forgot the cold- the large fire was almost comforting in its warmth, the orange light bringing the sun back to the muted blues of the forest. It was wonderful...until the stench hit her. Gross!
Jennifer was practically tripping on her own two feet on her way back. "All finished with your punishment, Irritating?" Meg barked at her as soon as she arrived back. The girl barely had time to peel the layers of winter garments off, but she nodded mutely. "Good," Meg replied with a smile, "and you can be sure we'll be looking over your handiwork soon. I'll know if you tried to cheat".
It was dinner-time, and the orphans were all in the cafeteria, savoring one of their first warm, full meals in a long time. A thick, scrumptious soup was being served today by Amanda, and even her snivelling excitement seemed to hearten instead of disgust.
"Hear-ye, Hear-ye!" cried Meg, standing upon a chair. "The Princess of the Red Rose has a message for you all: the gift of the month has been cancelled for December".
The room filled with gasps as everyone eyed each other- this was certainly a first.
"The request for this month has been generously provided by us, the Red Crayon Aristocrats" she continued, smiling smugly- she paused, nodding at the small titters and gasps of gratitude from her pathetic populace. "We have enough pea soup to last plenty of weeks! So please join me in thanking your leaders!"
"Thank you, Red Crayon Aristocrats" chimed the dining hall, each voice showing different levels of enthusiasm.
Jennifer sat in the darkest corner of the room, mumbling her thanks. It wasn't usual for her to eat with the others, but Eleanor condescended to her that she could tonight, as they needed everyone together for their special announcement. Still, she could barely eat; after taking one sip of her meal, she had to stop...the soup was chillingly familiar. It tasted like the same recipie Gregory made for her when she lived in the Gingerbread house. Her eyes winced at the affectionate nickname she automatically used for his home; it wasn't that adorable, magical place anymore.
"Meg, Meg" lisped Susan, her hand high in the air. She continued at the Baroness' nod, "Where's Clara?".
A curious silence followed these words. Meg's smile turned tight, and the rest of the Aristocrats suddenly seemed very distracted and interested in their food.
"Alas," said Meg, her voice dripping with fake condolences, "I'm afraid Clara won't be joining us anymore. She ran away".
A collective, frightened intake of breath followed these words. Olivia began to cry. "But it's so cold!" she wailed, "What if Stray Dog got her!". Susan immediately covered her mouth, but not quickly enough; it was Diana who answered this time.
"If Stray Dog got her, she got what she deserved. Don't pretend she was an innocent little mermaid! She was an adult and a traitor. Remember how she already showed us she didn't have any trouble abandoning someone who needed her" her voice became shrill, bitter. "She didn't care about us. She probably found Mr. Hoffman and ran away with him. No one's allowed to mention her again, do you hear me?" she announced imperiously. Several heads nodded mutely. That was the end of that.
"Do you really think Clara ran away with Mr. Hoffman?" asked Jennifer, sitting next to Wendy in the sick room. The small girl already looked pinker, her eyes less glassy; the pea soup was bringing some of her strength back.
"No" sighed Wendy. "I think she'd never survive the cold, especially since she didn't take any warm clothes with her. Remember how her closet was still full?"
"I suppose hoping she left to get help from adults is out of the question…" Jennifer muttered, disappointed.
"Oh she'd never make it, '' Wendy replied authoritatively. "Besides, I think"...she lowered her voice conspiratorially…"I think it was Stray Dog that got her. Got them both."
Jennifer shivered. It was true that the legends were quite terrifying: Stray Dog gives us sweets...Stray Dog kidnaps kids...Stray Dog comes at night...Children who don't clean up will be punished. But Clara was barely a child, and Mr. Hoffman a full adult. Could Stray Dog really hurt them too?
There was no time to think further, as she had plenty of chores to do that morning. First she needed an aspirin- having a few bites of soup was definitely not helping the foggines in her mind, but she couldn't help it. The taste brought back terrible memories- she hoped she could get over her aversion for pea soup in the next few days, or else she'd definitely be in trouble.
It was depressing to enter the sick room now. All the gadgets and pill jars sat dusty, undisturbed without Clara to spend her time there. Without her as a distraction, it was easy to finally find the blasted box of medicine she needed. She gulped one pill gratefully and stared at the muggy windows.
Outside, in the bitter cold, a single snow person could be seen near the orphanage gates. Jennifer wondered who even had the courage to go outside and build one- it was quite small, and instead of a cheery button smile it sported a drooping frown. Its eyes were covered by a bandana, giving the chilling impression of a prisoner entering the gallows. She wondered if Thomas was in charge of this gruesome sight- he had a tendency to artistically express his more morbid sense of humor.
A creak in the wood startled her out of her reverie, and Jennifer realized that she was indeed, quite alone in the sickbay. Tantalizingly, the drawer that Clara had protected so fiercely sat innocently in the corner of the room. Despite the desperation in the poor girl's voice, she couldn't help but burn with curiosity- perhaps just a peek, just to understand what lay so protectively in that table.
Slowly, she pulled the drawer open and with a thrill, looked inside.
Jennifer felt herself immediately get nauseated. She closed the drawer with the slam but could not stop herself from feeling violently sick and splattering the sick bay floor. The unlucky girl felt her head becoming lighter and she found herself crumpling in a heap. She wasn't sure what she expected to find, but certainly not that. It was so pale, but also red and pink. She could feel herself shaking.
Eventually, what felt like years later, she stood up. Completely numb, she took a bucket, mopped the floor, and left the room with a quiet click of the sick bay lock. Later that night, she would sneak inside again, and take the contents of the drawer to be buried near the snowperson. She didn't feel the icy winds or frigid snow as she slammed her shovel on the frozen ground. She felt a different kind of cold, but also a strange sense of Doing What Was Right. It carried her through the entire makeshift funeral of one, and after she was done she'd run to the shed, cradling Brown while sobbing like her heart was truly breaking.
Clara was right. She shouldn't have looked in there.