Seven Forty Nine. Terrible. Rory shook her head in disgust. The worst score she'd recieved in weeks. It was fitting, she mused, that her perfect day would end so perfectly. Mrs. Marsha had thrown another fit about Rory's long shower habits, and when she had returned to her room from Punitive Hall, she had found Anne working vigorously to wash her Wall.

"What do you think you're doing!" She had shrieked, running into to room and kicking the bucket of soapy water over. The contents spilled out over the floor, drenching the ends of her jeans. Perfect.

"It's against the rules!" Anne had protested. Rory threw the girl out of her room and slammed the door shut. She let out a long breath and flung herself onto her bed, and flipped open her SAT booklet.

Now she lay looking at the test score, clicking her tongue in disgust. She glanced up at the wall opposite her. She hadn't looked at it since she threw Anne out, nor made any attempts to salvage it. Now her eyes moved slowly over it's entirity, and a slow grin crept onto her lips. The lines were still there. Apparently all Anne had managed before she was caught were several sad smudges, lost in a sea of ink.

Rory stood and approached the bricks, gently running a hand over the rough surface. Her feet were cold.

She looked down to see that the water from the bucket was still spewed over her floor, and the icy trickle soacked through her threadbare socks and the tattered edges of her jeans. She sighed. Perfect. Just perfect. She couldn't explain what had put her in such a terrible mood. Honestly, today wasn't that much worse than any other day at Padison's Home for Misplaced Children. She had just woken up this morning on the wrong side of the bed, that was all. Rory sighed and grabbed a towel from the laundry hamper, and kneeled to the unpleasent task of mopping up the frigid water.

"Rory," Mrs. Marsha's voice came from the doorway. Rory looked up at the woman. She was one of those too-put-together people. If the orphanage was a neighborhood, she would be president of the homeowner's assosiation. Heeled loafers sheathed eggshell hose, covering legs up until the knee. Mrs. Marsh never wore skirts at any other length. Her hair was pinned up in a bun at all times, and small golden earings adorned her ears. Rory tried to think back to a time when Mrs. Marsha went on vacation. She couldn't think of any.

"Yeah?" She asked, finishing up her cleaning job.

"Yes."

"What?"

"The correct word it 'yes'." Once, Rory would have rolled her eyes at this. However, long years spent here had led her to pity the woman. This was her entire life. If correcting the grammar of an unwanted child made her happy, who was Rory to get in the way of that?

"Yes?" She corrected herself.

The older woman searched for some trace of flippancy on the girls face. Finding none, she continued. "We're having another Meet and Greet. We've finally collected enough people willing to adopt to have one. Get dressed, change you clothing. And for goodness sakes, brush your hair.

Rory's eyebrows raised slightly. "It's today?"

"In a couple hours. Do wear that pink blouse, it's the only respectable piece of clothing you have." With that, she turned on her heel and walked down the hall to tell the rest of the children. Her shoes clicked qiuetly as she walked, muffled by the grime on the hallway floor. Rory closed her door and locked it, and flopped back down onto her bed.

-

"Yes sir, I am planning on attending college. I--" Rory stopped speaking the hand held up by the candidate she was talking to.

"You look like a lovely girl, but we really want to adopt someone younger. You understand." His wife nodded sympathetically. Rory nodded politely and the couple moved on. She sighed. They were the third couple that night to pass her by because of her age. She walked around idly, and eventually sat down near the wall. She gazed into the throng of faces dispondently. It was hopeless to expect someone to adopt her at this point. She should just wait out the two years and go to college on her own.

"Why the long face?" A voice came up next to her, and a woman sat down to her right. She had piercing blue eyes, but wore a friendly smile.

"Just waiting until this is over. Maybe it's the shirt. I should have worn a normal one." Rory glanced down in dusgust at the frilly thing on her chest. "I'm too old for this crap."

"Oh? I was actually looking for an older kid to adopt." The woman said, and Rory raised one eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Oh, you know, less diapers to change."

"Oh, you assume too much."

"And a sense of humor. You don't get that in a baby."

"I've only got two good years left in me before I leave for college."

"Good! Quit salting my game." Rory couldn't help it any more. She let her faltering grin creep onto her face. The woman held out her hand.

"I'm Lorelai Gilmore." She introduced herself.

Rory shook her hand. "Rory." She said. Lorelai paused.

"Just Rory?"

"It's more than enough." She replied evenly. She wasn't in the right mood to say more. The woman nodded.

"Vamp nail polish?"

"Skanky."

"Coffee?"

"Makes the world go round."

"Favorite move?"

"Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory."

"College?"

"Harvard."

"Career?"

"Stripper."

"Really?"

"Journalist."

"Where do I sign?" Rory let her grinn spread from ear to ear.

"I'll go get Mrs. Marsha."