The pitter pattering of footsteps were keeping Olive awake. All of the children were meant to be asleep in this wee hour of the night. Then again, Wool's was not sufficiently staffed enough in order to keep tabs on the rules and to make sure the children stuck to them.

Olive had not once in the nearly three weeks she had been among the orphanage dared to venture out of her small room. In grief and childish expectations, she had been insistent that her parents were coming to get her from this place and to take her to some new home that they had purchased. Olive believed with her whole heart that this was not permanent. Olive was wrong.

Each day that passed had brought her soul to a deeper depth of numbness. Olive had never felt more alone in her entire life and she couldn't understand why. Didn't her parents miss her at all wherever is that they were? Olive sighed sadly and rolled over to face the ugly white bricks of the wall, growing tired of the same thoughts crossing her mind repeatedly.

Olive closed her eyes, seeking some escape from her dull surroundings. Images flashed inwardly of her eyelids; images that she had once lived through, images of her family and all that she had loved and remembered. It had seemed that now all her mind could muster to remind her was everything that would hurt her. Olive worked hard to keep the prickling tears that had grown in her large chocolate eyes from escaping; she had grown tired of crying.

Suddenly the old wooden door had slammed open and Olive shot straight up, startled and wide eyed. It was some of the children that had been rough housing in the hallway, one of them had been slammed into her door and it hadn't been sturdy enough to stand against the force.

Standing there in front of her was a young boy, perhaps only a year older than herself. He wasn't facing her, but staring at the now empty doorway with his fists clenched. The children that had been guilty of shoving him around had bolted down the hallway and out of sight, laughing the whole way.

"Fuck." The boy cursed, his mature tongue shocking Olive into gasping.

The boy had only then noticed he was not alone as the sound had made its way into his ears. He wheeled around to face the girl, glaring. "What?"

Olive stuttered, her brown eyes still fixed firmly on the stranger. "N-n-nothng."

The boy's glare didn't soften, he looked down to the door that was now hanging sloppily from its metal hinges. When he spoke, his voice was cold and bitter. He made his exit, voice ringing back towards her as he stalked away mysteriously. "Shame. Looks like you'll be making due without a door."

Olive should have hated the boy right then and there, but his strangely rude behavior had fascinated her. Olive had come from a world where everything was careful and proper, never being exposed to the opposite side of things. That boy had been so different, and different was something that had always peeked Olive's curiosity.

Olive stood up from her bed slowly, cautiously making her way to the open doorway, peeking her brown curls around the corner. The boy was nowhere in sight.

The next morning, Olive had decided that since she could have no privacy, she was now willing to make her exit into the strange world of Wool's Orphanage. Secretly, though, it was only in hopes that she would run into the swearing boy again.

All of the children had been gathered in the library. Monday's were the day for that, as she had been informed upon arrival. It was the one day she had remembered, as reading had always been her favorite activity. There were wooden signs that hung at the tops of every intersected hallways that made finding the path simple.

Olive was careful in entering the large room, already eyeing the other children cautiously. No one even bothered to look up at her; clearly the novelty of a new child had worn off. Olive let out a brief sight of relief as she made her short stroll over to the nearest bookshelf, examining their collection. Settling on a familiar children's book, Olive chose a set and began flipping through the pages. Olive had never been one to eavesdrop on other people's conversations, as it would have been rude, but the arguing that had ensued technically couldn't have been considered a private conspiring.

"Look you pesky little freak," Olive looked up to see one of the older children towering over the rude boy that she had seen the night earlier. The boy looked very angry and near to the point of explosion as the elder boy spoke to him. "I said you are in my seat."

The rude boy ignored the tormentor, going back to his thick novel as if he weren't even there. The elder boy, having no time for games, snatched the book from the boy's hands and tossed it to the side, sneering. "Fetch, bitch."

The boy opened his mouth, probably with a good adult related retort, but Olive interjected loudly before he could get the words out. "You aren't exactly being very nice." Olive made her way towards the elder boy showing no fear or apprehension. Olive carefully picked up the book he had taken from the younger boy and handed it back to him with a kind smile. The boy glared at her once again.

The elder boy laughed. "Lookie here. Tom's got himself a little girlfriend, dontcha Tom?"

Olive turned around, facing the boy snottily. "Lookie here," It was never like Olive to repeat swears, but she found it fairly appropriate for the moment. "It seems we've got a stuck up asshole, don't we Tom?" Olive had pretty well caught on that it was the boy's name.

Tom narrowed his eyes at the girl, unsure of the ground. No one had ever smiled at him here, let alone stood up for him. Tom didn't exactly know how to react.

Olive, thought, didn't take Tom's silence as a rejection. Grabbing the arm of his shirt she tugged him out of the chair. "Come on, Tom. You don't have to stay here and listen to that."

Tom, unsure of the ground he was now treading, sat up from his leather chair and jerked him arm from her grasp, still following her on his own. He had waited until they were out of the library before he had spoken to her finally. "What makes you think you can just talk to me?"

Olive shrugged, not taken aback by his outright rudeness. Giving him only a simple answer. "Because." After enduring another one of Tom's signature glares through his stony dark eyes, she held out her hand in introduction. "My name is Olive, Olive McRidder. You don't have to like me, Tom, but I want to be your friend."

Tom scoffed and strode ahead of her, somewhat shocked at her words. Little did he know that it was going to take a hell of a lot more than walking away to shake Olive off his tail.