II
Playing Games and Making Scenes
Domino and Tom were busy debating some of the finer points of psychology and mysticism, while they gathered and piled grass shoots into an orderly nest for their new pet snake. Really, Tom could be quite brilliant, when he wasn't raging or pointing sticks at people.
"I can't really read anyone's thoughts though. It's mostly just hunches that help me get my way and get to the bottom of things," Domino explained as she patted some leaves into the half-buried garden pot they'd chosen for the snake nest.
"Yes, but if you can anticipate people's needs and actions, detecting and experiencing their emotions, that may imply some sort of subconscious mental ability," argued Tom as he flicked a few stray blades of grass at Domino.
Tom's voice was thick with haughtiness, so thick that Domino was convinced he must love hearing himself talk. Well, then again… she supposed he didn't really have anyone else to talk to before - not unless you counted the snake.
"Perhaps a test is in order," Tom added suddenly, interrupting Domino's musings, "I am a master of hiding and manipulating emotion. Let us see if you can read me."
"I don't think it really works that way…" she began to say.
"Just do it, Domino," he snapped irritably, a small twitch of his eyebrow indicating that he was not playing around.
Staring at his twitchy eyebrow, Domino seriously considered starting yet another secret list dedicated to Tom's mannerisms alone. Good grief, she needed a full translation dictionary just to keep track of all of his shifting moods - he was about as cryptic and secretive as the snake!
"Err - what am I supposed to be doing exactly?" she sighed, while resigning herself to whatever "test" he'd concocted.
"Well, you certainly will earn no points for finesse," he answered sharply, "Just look at me, and tell me. Tell me something about myself, something you shouldn't know."
"Um, okay…" she replied uncertainly.
Sweeping her gaze over Tom's carefully positioned face, she noted how his pleasant smile didn't quite reach his eyes and how any softness to his features was offset by the tension across his shoulders. The drizzling rain had finally stopped, but a few pearly raindrops still clung to his sleek, black hair, and he shivered ever-so-slightly in the chill of the overcast evening.
Domino knew he was probably looking for something definitive, like a fact about his greatest fear or his favorite book, but that just wasn't how this "ability" of hers worked. She never really planned on it - it'd just come to her. With a great, big sigh, she decided to just start babbling.
"I'm just going to start listing observations and see what happens. That seems logical, right?" she asked hesitantly, continuing once he'd agreed with a firm nod, "Alright. First of all, I don't think you're as mean as you like to act. Some of the other kids here seem to be afraid of you, but they also seem a bit…"
Domino hesitated, glancing over at Amy and the other girls. They were kind of annoying, but so far they'd been friendly. She didn't want to finish her first day at the orphanage by insulting her roommate and a bunch of people she hardly knew. Besides, she still wasn't convinced that jab-people-with-sticks-boy hadn't done something to deserve his loner status.
"Well, I bet you're pretty tough and fearless when you want to be," she amended diplomatically, "You don't really like other people, because they hurt you and make you feel bad and you can't trust them… Am I doing, okay?"
Tom narrowed his eyes in suspicion, his steady gaze roving over her face, while he openly scrutinized and evaluated her every physical reaction. Of course, it wouldn't help Tom's obvious paranoia that Domino had this nasty habit of always acting guilty even when she was completely innocent… Ugh, she didn't know why, but she was always ready to believe that she'd done something wrong.
"I am unconvinced," he answered finally, before commanding in a magnanimous tone, "but write it down anyway. We can revisit this later."
Quite relieved to finally step out of the spotlight - or searchlight, more accurately, when Tom was involved - Domino scrawled Psychic? along her short list of "superpowers." Honestly, it was quite a weak and pathetic list next to things like mind control and speaking with snakes. However, Tom had yet to comment on the obvious discrepancy, and Domino could not for-the-love-of-books guess why. With all of his witty barbs and other sharp commentary, jeering at her obvious lack of talent would've been completely within character…
"Also," he added suddenly, "People can't hurt me, Domino - that would require me to actually care what they think."
Domino just rolled her eyes.
"Is the snake ready for her nest? Maybe we can find a way to heat some rocks for her to bask on. Snakes are cold-blooded after all…" she mused aloud, while she stood with her hands on her hips, inspecting their work.
"I know," Tom snapped, before calming and adding, "I suppose we could leave some stones next to the oven or the fireplace and bring them here tomorrow. And by 'we,' I mean 'you' - no one lets me near fire anymore."
"Why? What'd you do?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Mind your own business," Tom growled, though he looked quite pleased with her enraptured expression, "You've been given a task. Now, carry it out, if you want the snake babies to live."
Domino scoffed, her face scrunching into her most persuasive scowl. Since when did he make the rules? She bet this was all on account of her being a girl - boys could take care of snake babies too!
"Good grief!" cried Domino, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation, "Why are you so bossy all the time? Would it kill you to ask nicely?"
Tom merely smirked. He seemed to enjoy her torment, taking great pleasure in her obvious aggravation. Boys were always like that - taunting and teasing and pulling on her hair. At least Tom only pulled grass… She supposed it was also a small blessing that Tom wasn't actually the one fuming for once.
"Why should I be nice? Nice people just finish last anyway," he said, his tone as condescending as if he were explaining cutlery to one of the orphaned toddlers.
"That's not true!" Domino growled in frustration, much too annoyed to go along with his negativity, "People always take care of people they like."
Tom's grin grew even wider as he answered slyly, "Ah, yes. But, being nice isn't the same as being liked, is it?"
Domino had just about found a clever retort for the obnoxious snake-boy, when a loud, authoritative voice carried over the courtyard.
"Domino Dewey! Inside please," Mrs. Cole called sternly.
All eyes in the courtyard searched for Domino, and within mere moments every child's gaze was fixated directly on her. Fortunately, she and Tom had chosen a well-concealed nest for the snake. The cracked, terracotta pot was buried on its side in an overgrown flower bed, and the mulch-filled bed was nestled between a small garden shed, the fountain, and the wildest wall in the courtyard. Thus, it was at least safe to say that none of these eyes would be spotting their pregnant pet.
"Do not mention the snake," Tom whispered hurriedly, a rare expression of frightened concern gracing his face, "She'll send for an exterminator, I assure you."
"I won't tell," promised Domino, her tone grave as she began her dreadful march to the front door.
The silence in the courtyard was deafening. And, as she shambled up the short, stone walk to the patiently waiting matron, she did her best to avoid the courtyard worth of stares. Domino was sure that this spectacle was all the more interesting, because she was "the new girl."
When she finally crossed the threshold into the main building, Mrs. Cole motioned her out of the way and let the door swing shut with an ominous thud. Then, the matron proceeded to peer down her sharp nose at her, while idly rubbing at a large, silver cross that she'd pulled from her blouse.
"Yes, Mrs. Cole?" Domino whispered.
"Do not ask 'yes' to an adult, Miss Dewey," chided the matron, "It's 'How may I help you?' or 'I beg your pardon, Mrs. Cole' - never 'yes.'"
Domino trembled slightly as she took in the woman's clipped words. She hoped Mrs. Cole wasn't angry enough to use that cane the other children had spoken of…
"Yes, ma'am," she said politely, delivering the words as clear and well-enunciated as possible.
Mrs. Cole sniffed, "Good. Well, I suppose that rough American accent of yours will help to smooth over any offense - prospective parents can't fault you for your lack of breeding after all."
Domino couldn't help but bristle a bit at her statement. The way Mrs. Cole spoke, one might think this was a stable for breeding stock horses, rather than a supposed home for boys and girls. Indeed, all morning, during her tour of the grounds, the explanations for daily activities and household rules seemed to lead back to the same line of reasoning - what would "sell" well or what would attract adoptive parents.
"Very well," Mrs. Cole continued firmly, "It has come to my attention, Miss Dewey, that you've been playing with Tom Riddle this afternoon. Is this true?"
"Yes, ma'am," she answered truthfully.
Suddenly, her heart was pounding against her chest, and she felt that familiar guilty expression creeping onto her face. Oh no, did Mrs. Cole know about the snake?
"Miss Dewey, I cannot stress enough that this behavior must stop, if you ever wish to make it out of this orphanage," the cross matron stated grimly.
Careful not to prematurely jump to conclusions, Domino decided to clarify by asking, "I… beg your pardon, Mrs. Cole, but what do you mean?"
Mrs. Cole sighed and brought her free hand to her face, massaging at her temples.
"I know he looks handsome enough, Miss Dewey, but looks can be deceiving. There is something very wrong with that boy," she said, rubbing even more roughly at the crucifix in her palm, "Nothing but darkness and trouble await for anyone near him! Just ask poor Billy Stubbs - he had the misfortune of being his friend early on, and it cost him dearly."
Domino couldn't believe this was all about Tom. It was one thing for bullies and fearful children to gang up on him, but now the matron was badmouthing him too?
Still, Billy Stubbs seemed like a very shy, very sweet, little boy. She couldn't imagine him ever causing anyone any offense. And, if Tom had wronged him, it would probably be wise to find out exactly what happened, before it happened to her…
"Miss Dewey, God makes little boys like that to test the rest of us," she muttered wearily, "Be wary! Do not fall prey to his dangerous games."
Domino nodded submissively and chirped a respectful Yes, ma'am, but something was still rubbing her the wrong way. Who was Mrs. Cole to judge what Tom had been made for? Wasn't the whole point of religion supposed to be love and forgiveness anyway?
Mrs. Cole finally pried open the front door. A hush fell over the courtyard, but after a sharp order from the matron to quit their gawking, the courtyard's inhabitants returned to their own noisy business once more. Domino promptly pointed herself in the direction of the snake nest and set off.
"What did I just tell you, girl?" cried Mrs. Cole from the doorway, "Away from that corner now!"
Domino turned around, padded halfway up the front door steps, and paused. She clasped her hands in front of her chest and appealed to the matron.
"But, Mrs. Cole! He has my notepad and my favorite pen!"
Mrs. Cole's harsh demeanor softened considerably, but she still didn't seem to be the least bit surprised by this. Domino certainly hoped the matron didn't think she was accusing Tom of stealing…
"Very well, Miss Dewey," Mrs. Cole replied curtly, "but I expect to see you elsewhere next time I open this door."
"Yes, ma'am," said Domino, giving a small, unnecessary bow, before dashing over to the snake's pot.
When she arrived a short moment later, Tom was currently engaged in a staring match with Mrs. Cole, who was closing the door so slowly you almost couldn't blink if you wanted to see it move. Finally, the door thudded shut, and Tom whirled around to face Domino with a suspicious glare.
"What happened? Tell me," demanded Tom.
Good grief! We're back to this already? thought Domino, who had just about reached her daily capacity for confrontation and glares, thank you very much.
Domino scooped up her notepad and pen from its resting place on the fountain rim. Hugging them to her chest, she rocked back and forth on her heels and toes as she struggled with this awkward situation.
"Mrs. Cole says we can't play together anymore. Sorry," Domino muttered weakly, hardly able to look at his twinkling grey eyes.
The boy said nothing. He just stared, looking rather bored and rather irritable and rather unaffected - but Domino knew better. She could see it in the thinnest crease between his eyebrows, the hardness of his unmoving lips, and the wild gleam across his eyes - he was furious.
With a heavy sigh, Domino turned and wandered dejectedly over to Amy Benson's slice of the courtyard.
"Typical. What a waste of effort!" Tom grumbled to no one in particular.
The snake had long since curled up and fallen asleep in her new nest. Her jet-black, circular pupils rested eerily on Tom, while the snake murmured things like 'juicy frogs' and 'bite its head' between long, wheezy hisses. Who knew snakes could sleep-talk anyway?
Ugh, Tom had listened to that Domino girl prattle on for over an hour about all of her stupid ideas. And now, thanks to Mrs. Cole, nothing would ever come to fruition. Domino had even taken the lists, the notepad, and the pen. Now, he was left with nothing to do but stare at the clouds and pull at the weeds.
Over by the popular kids' wall, Domino was skipping along with Amy Bishop and the others, playing Ring-Around-the-Rosie, and taking turns with Amy's toys. They were all so determined to take everything for themselves. They were all so determined to leave Tom with nothing.
"Idiots," Tom spat as he glowered around the side of the cracked, moss-covered fountain.
Amy Bishop was the girl with all the toys. The girl's wealthy mother must have felt especially guilty when she tossed her daughter in here, into this 'used children' bin, because she'd left Amy three full boxes worth of clothes and toys - enough to last her through her early childhood years. Tom, of course, had only been left his name, and the harsh reality of Wool's Orphanage was that the person with the better toys always wins.
"Ewww! Domino he's looking at you again!" shrieked Amy, prompting a chorus of obnoxious giggling from the other girls.
Domino's head snapped up from the worn doll she'd been sharing with one of the younger girls. She flashed Tom a sympathetic smile, which promptly morphed into a guilty grimace. That girl always looked guilty.
As if I care what you think, thought Tom as he angled his body away from the girls and did his best to look like he was engaged in some fascinating conversation with the snake.
Every few minutes Domino would glance over at him again, frowning. Not that Tom cared - he'd already wasted enough time on her. Thankfully, he didn't have to deal with her anymore, and he could finally get back to glaring around the garden, waiting for Mrs. Cole to come out and ring the dinner bell.
It was a good twenty minutes after curfew when six soft knocks sounded in quick succession at his door. Tom bolted up in bed. He'd been watching the shadows on the ceiling as he always did, waiting for sleep to swoop down and take him. No one ever came to his door - at least not for anything good.
Thus, it was with great trepidation that Tom padded across the cold, stone floor and creaked open his door. His concern was unwarranted, however, for as he craned his head around the edge of the door, he saw nothing but the closed mirror-image of his own door on the far wall. Furthermore, as he took one tentative step into the hallway and peered about, he could see no dark silhouettes, human or otherwise, roaming the moonlit corridor.
It was then that Tom heard a faint rustling beneath his feet. Glancing down, he saw a thin roll of paper wedged under the door. He immediately snatched up the paper, eased the door shut, and then dashed back to bed with his prize.
Moonlight was streaming through Tom's small, square window, the window frame stenciling gleaming white rectangles across the dark-grey floor. Normally, Tom was pleased when darkness obscured the meagre state of his room, but tonight he was glad that some light had prevailed. After rolling and unfolding two carefully-packed sheets of paper, Tom held up the inked notebook page and read within a square of moonlight.
Dear Tom,
I'm sorry we didn't get to finish our game today. I don't know why everyone is so against us playing together, but I guess every superhero has enemies and secrets.
I hope you won't be too mad at me for leaving you alone. Mrs. Cole said she'd be watching.
Also, don't worry, I've got a plan. I think this is a job for my secret power. But, until then, we can always pass notes and just leave them by the snake pot.
Sincerely,
Domino