Joey walked into the orphanage that next morning. He hated the fact that he had agreed to this. But with Tristan on his case, he dare not back out now. Tristan would hound him until he did it. The only thing Joey hated more at this point was the orphanage itself. The place was kind of, well, like a boot camp of some sorts. A dirty boot camp at that. There were no kids in sight as he walked to the front office. An old, rusty swing swayed, creaking on it hinges. The playground was deserted and eeire. It wasn't right to not have kids hanging all over the metal bars. Joey shivered.
Joey didn't make a sound as he slipped inside. It didn't seem right to make a bunch of noise here. It was like a library, and event he smallest sound seemed out of place. A middle aged woman looked up at him with a condescending glance as he entered, as though he had made a big disruption, but Joey just looked back at her without showing that her gaze scared him.
"Yes?" she asked, her voice as high and irritating as finger nails screeching down a chalkboard.
"I'm looking to adopt a child," Joey stated bluntly, allowing his eyes to shift around quickly and then back to the women.
"Oh really? So you want to see the little brats, I mean, angels?" the woman, apparently named Mrs. Jones, looking at the name plate on her desk, asked, nose crumpled in a dissapproving manner.
"Yes, I would," Joey nodded, though mentally he shook his head.
"Well come this way," Mrs. Jones instructed as she stood.
Walking out the door and to the main eating area, Joey guessed, she grabbed a rope and pulled down several times, sending the sound of a ringing bell through the orphanage. Only seconds after she had pulled the rope for the last time did a thundering heard of pattering feet come to greet the dismal message of the bell. They all lined up, seemingly by age, with the youngest to Joey's left, and the oldest to his right. The age was only a guess for the height went from highest to lowest.
There were a good number of kids, and a great deal more than Joey would've expected, though he wasn't really sure what he had expected. They all stood straight and looked straight ahead, reinforcing the image of a boot camp. The older they were, the straighter they stood, and the less their eyes darted around. The eldest seemed like a stone statue. He must have been there a while. The youngest slouched and darted his eyes back and forth. He was, by far, the smallest in the orphanage. Joey couldn't really get a good look at his face, though, for he kept it facing the ground.
Mrs. Jones walked up to the smallest, took out her small horsewhip, and slapped him on the back with it. The small boy straightened up real quick and stood as straight as the oldest kid, but it wasn't good enough for Mrs. Jones for his eyes never met hers. She bent down to eye level with him and tried to look him in the eye, but the boy darted his eyes away. No matter what angle she came from, he wouldn't look at her. She finally just lifted his chin to force him to look at her, but even then, she was unsuccessful. He simply shifted his eyes to the ground. So, when she realized that he wouldn't look at her, she started to talk to him anyway.
"What did I tell you about line-up?" she snarled, but the boy didn't reply and never looked up.
Mrs. Jones began to drill the boy feroiciously on the workings of her orpahanage, but he never answered and received a slap with the whip on the face for every answer he missed.
Joey stood there, watching. He couldn't believe how this woman was treating such a young boy. He wouldn't answer no matter how hard Mrs. Jones tried to get him to. That was plain to anyone. This boy wasn't being disobient to smite her either. Joey could tell that by the way he took his beating. It was like a dog who was whipped but never bit back. He was taking it without fighting. If he were doing it just to tick her off, he would fight back.
Joey's blood boiled. He watched, wanting to step in, just not knowing when to. His eyes blazed fiercer with every second, every question, every slap, until his temper had reached its end. Mrs. Jones hit the boy one last time, and that's when Joey snapped. He couldn't stand to watch this any longer.
"Enough!" Joey shouted. "What you're doing to that boy is inhumane and unjust. I've made my decision. I'm going to adopt that little boy."
Mrs. Jones looked at Joey, bewildered. She didn't understand what had made him so mad. If only she knew about Joey's past, she would understand.
"Sir, you have to be stern with disobeidant kids," Mrs. Jones stated calmly once she had regained her demenor. "This boy is one you just have to be extremely tough with."
"I agree, you must be able to displine kids," Joey nodded, and then glared up at her. "But this is ridculous. Can't you see this boy is unstable. He's hurt, mentally, and you're not helping. I might think about pressing charges against you."
"You, you can't be serious," Mrs. Jones stammered.
"I've never been more serious in my life," Joey restated. "But if you stop doing this now, and let me adopt this boy, I'll consider dropping it."
Mrs. Jones glared at Joey for a second, contemplating what would be best, not that there was much debate. This would get rid of the kid, and she would stay in control. However, having the kid there did bring in more money seeing as how the stated paid her to get him treatment, not that he got any. She figured she could win the case if he did press charges, or he's too broke to do it. She would call his bluff.
"Would you please follow me?" she motioned towards Joey. "The rest of you, stay here. I better not hear anything out of you all."
Mrs. Jones turned and walked into the office where Joey had first met her, and Joey crossly flowed, his blood still hot. Mrs. Jones slowly settled herself in the padded chair behind the desk and Joey silently sat down in the wooden one in across from her. Messing her hands infront of her and laying her arms down on the desk, she looked steadily at Joey, studying him to get a feel for him before speaking again.
"Mr..." She trailed off, waiting for Joey to supply a name.
"Wheeler," Joey offered huskily.
"Wheeler, Mr. Wheeler, I don't think you understand how much trouble that child would be," Mrs. Jones told him bluntly. "I'm not sure you could handle him, or want him."
"Oh really, and why not?" Joey raised an eyebrow.
"Mr. Wheeler, please understand that he has a history of epilepsy and even with treatment, he doesn't speak or look anyone in the eyes," Mrs. Jones protested. "This presents a great problem. If you can't control him, how do you expect to take care of the brat?"
Joey looked at her, glared at her, with more seriousness than ever. His blood was feverishly hot by now. That boy wasn't getting treatment. He wouldn't be that bad if he was. Mrs. Jones was using the money for her own enjoyment.
"Mrs. Jones, with all due respect, I don't give a care about what your stupid opinions are," Joey growled, trying to keep his voice from being raised. "I'm taking him. That's final."
"I refuse to let him go," Mrs. Jones snarled.
"A good friend of mine is a very good lawyer," Joey informed. "I'm sure he'd like to see this place."
"Fine, you can have the brat," Mrs. Jones grumbled, finally admitting she was defeated.
"I'm sure the 'brat' has a name, what is it?" Joey shot suddenly.
"Hikyuu Ookami, first and middle name respectively," Mrs. Jones spat sourly. "I'll bring him in for you in a couple of hours. You should probably get started on this paperwork," she added, handing Joey some papers.
"No court work?" Joey asked, puzzled.
"No, he was deemed 'unadoptable' and the court told us that if anyone ever came to adopt him, to just have them fill out those papers and he'd be home free," Mrs. Jones noted bitterly.
Joey looked down at the papers on his lap. If he went through and signed these, he'd be locked in. Hikyuu would be living with him, relying on him. Did he really want that? The memory of Mrs. Jones' treatement of the poor boy came back to him. Of course, Joey concluded. He would take that boy away from this dirty boot camp.
He lifted his pen and began to fill out the papers, reading everything carefully, filling in missing information, and signing it where it asked. He was going to get it done quickly, because the sooner he did, the sooner he could leave. He wanted to spend as little time as possible in this dump. And the sooner Hikyuu could escape too.
Joey hated this place and everything about it. He hated the living conditions and the way that Mrs. Jones ordered around and whipped the kid. It reminded him terribly of his father. The whippings, the beatings, the numbness of his father. All of it was here. And Joey hated it.
A few hours later, Joey had just finished the work when Mrs. Jones entered the room again, this time with Hikyuu trailing close behind, just as she said she would. Hikyuu didn't look up at Joey, or even to look around the office. Joey guessed he'd been here before for one reason or another. Hikyuu's eyes glued on the floor and he always stayed three or four steps behind Mrs. Jones.
Joey looked up as the two entered the room. When he had finished his last signature, he stood and handed her the paperwork. Mrs. Jones quickly looked it over, disgust growing on her face with every page.
"Looks like everything's in order. He's all yours then, Mr. Wheeler," Mrs. Jones snarled. "Call if you need anything," she added sarcastically.
"Will do," Joey nodded, equally as sarcastic. "Come on, let's go."
Joey turned on his heel and left, Hikyuu training after him. The two loaded the car and drove away without a single glance back. Hikyuu kept his head down, starring at the carpet in the car, unsure of wether to be happy or afraid.
Both of them would begin a new life, and neither of them were completely sure of what it held. And neither were sure whether they were ready for it. However, it was here, whether they were ready, or not.