Chapter 1:

Hard-Knock Life

It seemed like it all happened overnight; his young life, joining the Time Squad, reaching this day. Most of it was a blur, everything he remembered was classified by relation. Otto could clearly recall the first mission he went on because it was the same day Larry and Tuddrussel rescued him from the orphanage. At the time, that was a dream come true. Not simply reading about history, in its abstract time and place, he was sent back to be part of it! But the more immediately potent grace of the transfer was getting away from the School for Wayward Tots

But that was irrelevant now. None of it mattered anymore, really. Or did it? In Otto's anxious state, it didn't seem to. His mind was focused on the task at hand. Getting lost in the past would get him nowhere. It was so long ago, but he could still picture the death hole. With the image imprinted on his mind, he felt he just had to go through the doors. Flopping down on his bed in burned out frustration, he envisioned moving closer to the building. Closer closer

"Otto?"

At the sound of his name, Otto sat bolt upright on his bed. Larry was standing in the doorway, his hand on the doorframe. "God, Larry. You scared me."

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to see how you were doing." Clearly, there was more to it than that.

"If you want a decision"

"Well with your birthday only days away you do need to decide quickly."

Otto stared at the floor, trying his hardest not to let himself look Larry in the eye. He couldn't bear to; but his efforts were in vain. "I just want this choice to be right."

Larry seemed to be searching for something to say, the one thing that could give Otto the nudge he needed. But his eyes dimmed and he held back. "I'm sure it will," was all he could get across. His hand slid down the doorframe, and with one final smile at Otto, he was gone.

Once Larry was out of sight, Otto took a deep breath, as much air as his lungs would allow, then s l o w l y exhaled and fell onto his back. Staring at the ceiling again, Otto put himself into history. And this time, it wasn't just the detached life of someone else who lived and died millenniums earlier, it was his own history. He shut his eyes restfully, and a subtle smile crossed his face.

A mist seemed to clear, and again, Otto could see the old building: a hovel of dull red brick, slashed with sloppy graffiti. Hazily, Otto could remember being forced to clean the back wall, which had been graced with the words, "Satan's Hellions" and crude drawings of children assaulting and killing each other. In a twisted way, Otto had found the artwork amusing, but remembering that it was meant to insult him, it no longer seemed so humorous.

Not that it made any difference. As far as Otto remembered, everyone thought as much of the children of the orphanage, not just phantom graffiti writers. How he had come to be at the School for Wayward Tots in the first place, he didn't know, because he had been there as far back as he could remember.

When Otto thought back his hardest, forcing his very earliest memories to come up from underground, one memory from distant years resurfaced. He was standingsitting? On the floor, staring at the front lawn of the orphanage, full of children throwing rocks and stabbing each other with sticks. Then, shifting the focus of his eyes, he was now staring at something black. As he was playing the memory through in his head, Otto didn't know how old he was or what he was now looking at.

A shift in perspective. Now Otto could see himself, not more than three years old, reaching forward with a tiny hand towards the black thing, and pulling gently. Suddenly, he knew what- - or rather who- - this was. The filigreed face of Sister Thornly peered down at little Otto down her long, hooked nose.

Even though Otto knew that whatever was causing this interaction couldn't be a laughing matter, the sight of himself at that age made him chuckle. The horn-rimmed glasses on his baby face were a scream: his already wide eyes were magnified, making him look like nothing but eyes. And the fact that he had not even begun to grow into his head was no help.

Wide-eyed Otto stared helplessly up at Sister Thornly, his lower lip quivering. "Where's my mommy?" The plaintive question, even in the quiet voice that posed it, was not to be unheard. It wouldn't be unheard, but it wouldn't necessarily be welcome, either.

She heaved a gusty sigh, irritated at his presence. To her, Otto had always been somewhat of a parasite: small, irritating, always following her around sucking information from her as if he was a leech, a flea, a tick, a mosquito. Sister Thornly was in no mood for this, and prepared to stop the problem at the source with her verbal swatter. "Mommy had enough of you, so she dumped you here with me. She was fed up with your talking and your questions and yourhead."

"Mommy dint love me any more?" By now Otto's eyes were so wide, they looked ready to explode.

"No. She never loved you. And no one will. You'll be like all the others, here til you're finally old enough to go. Just like so many other bastard children"

Otto didn't understand what that meant, but he could tell by everything else she had said that it wasn't good. Although she continued speaking, he stopped listening, and slid down the steps to hide behind a bush and that was all.

That became commonplace for him over the years. He would run to his leafy sanctuary every time the children were booted outside. Sister Thornly couldn't have cared; and Otto was certain she hoped he had wandered away or been hit by a car.

Whatever she hoped, he knew he was fine as long as she didn't catch him reading. Books were the only thing stopping him from running away, along with the faint hope that he would be adopted. Once in a blue moon, when someone did adopt from the School, Otto wished with every fibre of his being that it could be him. But it never ever was.

Not that it mattered all that much now. With the life he now lived as his alternative, Otto was actually thankful for the years he suffered through at the School. He also thanked Larry's faulty software, but that was a different story altogether. Then again, had Larry and Tuddrussel not rescued him then, what would have become of him? What kind of life could he have led?

Also, if he had been adopted, there might not have been as many years to suffer through in the first place. True, most of his days there were purely torturous; but there was the odd redeeming moment. Like one day when he was probably seven or so, Otto was sitting, curled up into a fetal position behind his bush, watching the birds soar through the sky. Otto wished more than anything that he could be one of them, escape the tethers of the orphanage and sail past the firmament

The sun was blotted out from the sky by the shadow of a huge butterfly fluttering dizzily over his head. That brought him back to reality in a hurry, as well as causing him to shriek and fall backwards in surprise. Footsteps came thundering towards him - thump! Whump! Thump! Whump! Otto tried in vain to get out of the way, but the footsteps were following the butterfly's wavering path, and he was blocking it.

Crash!

Otto found himself pinned to the ground underneath the butterfly's pursuer. "Sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going," the person squeaked, quickly getting up. Looking up, Otto saw a solid little girl with dark skin and darker hair. Her round cheeks looked like the kind any self-respecting grandmother would love to pinch.

"That's okay. I shouldn't be sitting around here." Otto grinned. "But it's better than being out there." He pointed at a wolvish, grimy boy throwing rocks at a squirrel in a tree.

The girl chuckled at the sight. "Remy does that every day. I don't think that squirrel likes him!" Still watching the squirrel episode, she sat down next to Otto, who hoped that he now would have an ally, to help him get through the painful days.

"What's your name?" He asked her, looking hopeful.

"Lisha. What's yours?"

"Otto."

"So you're the one Sister's always yelling at."

"Unh-huh." Otto nodded. "For reading."

Lisha looked sad, but cute, jutting her lower lip out in a semi-pout. "I wish I could read."

"Yeah. When I read, I can go anywhere I want."

"Away from here?" Lisha was interested in that idea. "Like magic?"

"It is like magic!" That was something Otto had never considered before. He had never seen any part of his life as magical, in books or otherwise.

"I want to go away from here. I wish I could have followed that butterfly all the way to heaven where my mama is." Lisha's eyes sparkled, and there was just something about the way she looked at that moment that made Otto want to do anything for her.

Then, he thought of one thing. "I could read to you. We could get away from here. Even just for a little while."

That was enough. "Could you?" Lisha was thrilled with the idea. "Butbut what about Sister?"

Otto peeked through the bush at the hawk-like nun. "She doesn't have to know. I read lots of times without her catching me."

Speak of the devil sure enough, the eerie off-key wail of her whistle was followed by her raspy voice. "C'mon! Get your lazy asses in here!"

"She's calling us in for dinner. I want to stay here with you." Lisha whimpered, clutching her knees close to her chest.

"I'll see you tomorrow! We can talk more then." His words were comforting, and Lisha climbed to her feet.

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

The two filed into the School as if they hadn't even spoken to one another.

That was one of Otto's better days, as his memory served. The strange thing was, although he could clearly picture her innocent, pudgy face, beaming with glee, her hair flying out behind her when she ran, even her voice, he hadn't remembered her until he thought of her now.

Removing his glasses and placing them carefully on his nightstand, Otto pulled off his uniform, draped it over the chair in the corner, and got in bed. The last thought that drifted through his head as he fell asleep was simple "Lisha where are you now?"