Chapter Six

Chapter Six
New Home

They drove up to a three-story building. It was white, but the paint was chipping. There were three rows of three windows from the front and a large wooden door in the front with a golden doorknocker. Mr. Lupin and Rachael got out of the car, took Rachael's trunk and went up to the front, where a skinny, strict-looking woman was waiting for them. The two walked up to the woman.

She looked down at Rachael and scrunched her nose in dislike. "Yes you must be the – err - Lupins," she said in a harsh, cold voice. "Well, come on, girl!" Mr. Lupin gripped his daughter's shoulders. "I mean, walk this way, Rachael."

Rachael looked up at her father. Wasn't she going to get a chance to say goodbye?

Her father gripped her shoulders tighter. "Bye, Rachael," he said quietly. He released her and went back to the car.

Trying hard not to cry, Rachael followed the woman into the building. Inside the building, there was a long, pale blue hallway, pictures hanging up, plants hung on the walls or in corners. The hallway led into a sort of common room with a small group of teenagers sitting in the corner playing a card game. They looked up at Rachael and the woman when they walked in.

"Good morning, children," the woman said with a false sweet voice.

"Good morning, Mrs. Ramben," they answered in a pleasant, but mocking, voice.

Apparently Mrs. Ramben didn't notice this because she walked past them over to a medium size woman with grey hair and brown eyes. Mrs. Ramben told Rachael that this woman would be her personal instructor; her name was Ms. Marshall. She looked like a kind old woman, but that was only on the outside. She had never been anyone's personal instructor, but everyone in the orphanage knew that this was one person you did not want to get to know. Two of the teenagers who were playing cards in the common room were walking past them and one of them hissed in Rachael's ear, "I pity you, kid."

Rachael wondered if this woman was really that bad, but she didn't have time to brood on that because Ms. Marshall instructed her to follow her. They went down a long blue hallway, up a flight of stairs and down another corridor. This hall had many rows of doors with golden numbers on them. They stopped in front of Room 35. Ms. Marshall pulled a silver key ring out of her pocket, shifted through the three keys, selected one in the middle and unlocked the door.

Inside was a yellow room, very yellow, with bunk beds against the right wall, a small nightstand next to it, a large closet and a small television set. Rachael walked into the room and was about to put her trunk on the bottom bunk when,

"No! Don't do that!" Ms. Marshall yelled. "That is not your bunk! That's your roommate... oh, what was her name...? Oh, yes, Becky. Now listen up, kid! No one, I repeat, no one in this orphanage has a personal instructor. It was just a cover so we can get you where you're supposed to be." Rachael looked at her, utterly confused. "Oh school, of course! When you get your letter you will come with me to Diagon Alley and I will escort you to Platform 9 ¾, and you will come back here every summer, got it?"

Rachael nodded slowly, she had completely forgotten about school. What with all this going on, how could she remember? Ms. Marshall left the room and Rachael began unpacking. She took out her clothes; she hadn't brought that many, only three jumpers, two pairs of jeans, socks, all that stuff. She brought some books to read, her black jacket, and that was it. She picked up her clothes and began looking for a place to put them. She knelt down beside the nightstand and opened the drawer; it was full to bursting with clothes. She went over to the closet and saw that it was also full of clothes and no hangers left for Rachael to even attempt to squeeze hers in. How could a girl living in an orphanage have so many clothes? she thought, staring at the closet in utter amazement. Rachael had been told to leave nearly all of her belongings home.

She sighed and threw her clothes back in her trunk. Where was she going to put her trunk? She picked it up and standing on her tiptoes she pushed it onto her bunk. She wanted to go explore the rest of the orphanage, but decided to wait so she could meet her roommate. It was only a minute later before the door to the room opened and a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl stepped in. She seemed to be in a hurry because she ran over to her bed, ducked under it, pulled something out and was about to dash out the door again before she noticed Rachael standing there. At first it looked as though she couldn't figure out who Rachael was, but then comprehension dawned upon her.

"Oh," she said, her voice full of disgust. "You must be my new... roommate." Rachael nodded. "Well, I'm Becky Beckham. You are?"

"Oh, um... Rachael Lupin," Rachael answered sheepishly.

Becky made a face of disgust at the name. What's her problem? Rachael thought, looking at Becky for a sign of welcome. Does she think my name's funny?

"Well... err... Rachael." She let Rachael roll off her tongue in such an annoying way that it made Rachael's stomach clench. "Let's get a couple of things straight." Rules already? "Rule number one: never touch my stuff; I don't care how much you need it. Rule number two: when my friends are in this room, you won't be. Rule three: I didn't ask for a roommate, they just needed a room quickly, so do not, I repeat, do not talk to me!" Becky went out the door and came back a second later. "Wait a minute; I'm forgetting one of my own rules. My friends are coming in here... out!"

Feeling more than willing to get of the room and away from Becky, Rachael dashed out of the room and into the common room where she watched the group of teenagers play "Spit." She sat down in the grey couch and watched lazily. She was here no more than an hour and she hated the place. That Ms. Marshall was horrible to her and she was stuck with a snob for a roommate. Could life get any worse?