The Finders Keepers

  The clamor downstairs had brought unanswered mysteries to Zeejay. Just an hour before, he saw Alex solemnly reading a book; now, he was there facing maybe a hooligan accusation. From Zeejay’s point of view, Alex couldn’t do any crime; given that he was a wise person, thus he certainly have his own grounds.

  But how could Alex be downstairs, by the way? Zeejay was sure he had just been reading here. And if Zeejay was not wrong, Alex preferred to stay hidden, alone. Yet there was another question that bulged out of Zeejay’s head: how could he be so numb not to notice Alex leaving the room? Was there that something Alex hadn’t told him? Something he ought to know?

  Zeejay felt an odd feeling squirm in his insides, as though a pang of insecurity had suddenly controlled over him. He knew it was Alex’s fault, whatever it was, but somehow a portion of his brain was demanding for more tests. For a moment he could not quite clomp on the fact that Alex was a criminal since there were no evidences presented.

  Alex could not be that horrible, he thought as a chill spread all over his body and making him sweat. Alex was a cordial friend, I just know it. Almost all of the merriment I’ve had was with him.

  Zeejay shook his head jerkily, quite confused. He scrambled from his bed and glanced over at Alex’s. It had been as it had always been: tight white linen stretched over his steel bed, golden curtains sprang over to cover the window panes, books stacked on a Perkin’s chair beside it. It appeared as though nothing bad had occurred, as though Alex had not existed in the room, as though there had never been anyone with him.

  Zeejay stepped outside and closed the door, and moved in the alley brightly doused with sunlight from the windows. As he walked rather gently, sipping the fragrance of the morning air, kids were running in and out of the rooms, chasing each other, screaming at the very top of their lungs.

  He remembered being like them when his parents were still alive; how he used to enjoy chasing the dog named Karl from their terrible neighborhood. And a certain branch of his mind reminded him of the fact that it could never come again, no matter what happened because his parents were gone. And it seemed like things were different now, in a sense that Zeejay was unable to feel the real happiness in life.

  Even though he tried to hide what he was feeling, the debris of his parents’ sudden death left nothing but horrors to him. Sometimes he was hearing strange voices of a man and a woman shouting at each other, suddenly resembling his parents’ voices. How he hated it so much, there was no explanation.

  Aunt Amexis had been the only living link left who could tell the reasons of his parents’ demise, and she even died. Now who could tell him? No one. Once upon a time, he thought he perfectly existed in a world with unending solace, now his parents died a death he did not even know, and he was abandoned by his aunt whom he had whole-heartedly hoped could give details to his past. Zeejay felt shell-shocked just thinking about his horrible ending or wherever worst ground he would fall.

  A swollen kid stopped right in front of Zeejay, beaming like he was going to criticize him.

  “Depressed, eh?” the kid said awkwardly; then he giggled.

  “Shut up,” said Zeejay firmly as he passed the kid like he wasn’t there.

  During the last weeks, the kids around the orphanage had started asking him about his past, and they were so much desperate about him, as they often do whenever a new kid was dropped in the orphanage. And whenever Zeejay tried to answer them, he seemed to have swallowed his voice box. Ask him everything about the world, but not about his family.

  He tried to resist everyone telling he was depressed because he had been fraternizing companionship with Alex since he had started a new life in the orphanage. He couldn’t even think of the nearest reason why people accused him being depressed. Was it because he was gagged whenever it came to matters regarding his family? Then if that was the reason, those kids were totally wise.

  The hallway came to a stop. Zeejay paused. There were separate ways on either side; on the left leading into the ladies’ bathroom; on the right leading into the men’s.

  “Confused, are you?” said a lady, who had come out of the ladies’ bathroom.

  “Not like you,” Zeejay answered, and he hurried into the men’s bathroom.

  There, however, was a wide room lined with stalls painted dark blue facing a long sink with a mirror. The lights were brilliantly reflecting on the granite tiles and the walls.

  Zeejay tried to look at his back, just in case the girl had followed him, but she did not so he went on.

  Standing in front of the mirror, Zeejay tried to scrutinize his own features. He was glad how little had changed from the last time he saw himself, which was back during his parents’ funeral.

  Zeejay bowed at the thought. How could he be crazy enough to remember a funeral? He knew it wasn’t a good one; very little money was used to afford the cheapest funeral. Zeejay had regretted the fact that he was unable to help his parents, even on the last part of their existence. He did not even know, nor was he informed, where they had been buried. Were they cremated? Absolutely not; they couldn’t even avail any better funeral.

  Were they buried? He wasn’t sure. He hoped that if they were buried, proper burial should have been done. He believed that it was a great sin to disrespect the corpses, especially that they hadn’t died of usual causes like long-age, virulent disease, nightmare, et cetera. They died because they killed each other, and that was the only thing he was sure of.

  A boy had coughed from the far right.

  Zeejay turned his head to see a skinny boy, wearing a large scarlet T-shirt that must be a donation from the older people labeled: VOTE FULMINARO SHAKARI FOR GOVERNOR. Like Zeejay, he was looking at his face on the mirror, frowning like he was disappointed to see his face again, but quavered when he spotted Zeejay glancing at him.

  “You have a serious cough,” said Zeejay, quite concerned. “You better tell Mrs. Sandra about it.”

  “It’s nothing, don’t worry,” the boy said coldly, shaking his head so that his golden hairs swayed. “You’re the new kid, right?”

  Zeejay felt odd being referred as a new kid, but he accepted it with delight. “Yeah.”

  “I heard very little about you,” said the boy.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Zeejay said disapprovingly. “You don’t need to know everything about me.”

  The kid tried to laugh. Instead of a cool voice, a hoarse cough had surmounted.

  “Oh, sorry about that,” he said, embarrassed. “What were you saying?”

  “I’m telling you that you don’t need to know everything about me.” Zeejay talked rather slowly, giving emphasis because he was suspecting that the kid was having a trouble hearing whenever he coughed.

  “Come on,” said the kid. “All of the other kids around knew about each other, their favorites, their attitudes, their parents. You name it and they’ll tell you. That’s what’s they are. You know – I mean – what’s the purpose of orphanage? Mainly is to know each other, to know about their background, so that a kid should not bear his own problem. Share it to the others, isn’t it?”

  “I think so,” said Zeejay impassively. “You’re new, too, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” the kid replied, “but just because you’re new doesn’t mean that you have to adjust for the olds. In the first three days, the folks around memorized my life. They ask questions a lot that’s why they know a lot of important things, too.”

  “Alex told me about you,” said Zeejay.

  “Oh, that boy,” said the kid, suddenly turning dismayed. “I didn’t remember you were sharing the same room.”

  “Why?” Zeejay asked. “Is there something wrong with him?”

  It took a little longer for the kid to generate an answer; and in that small span of time, Zeejay seemed to shiver expecting the kid to tell Alex was not a great person after all.

  “Nah, nothing. It’s just that it’s so strange to know he was downstairs early this morning. I knew it wasn’t his fault –”
>
  “You think so?” Zeejay snapped.

  “Oh, yes,” said the kid. “Last time, I’m having a suspicion that maybe Fleer and Tanner were just trolling to get him busted – I don’t know, those two folks just hate the Abercrombe boy. And their presence lately, I think my suspicions were right.”

  “Suspicion about what?”

  “My suspicion that Alex might not be good at all, see? Why would he make some enemy like Fleer and Tanner if he’s not bad? I mean – only fools and delinquents made enemies. So I think he might be one of them.”

  Zeejay seemed to hibernate from his consciousness. He felt suddenly opposing Alex, viewing him the bad way. However, he could not go against Alex, he had been too open to share his room for him on the very first day he came. But it was only a room; it has nothing to do with his faith. Oh –was it faith?

  “Yes, suspicions are the greatest evil that could betray you,” said Zeejay. “Of course, you don’t want to see the bad side when you’re having suspicion, or else you’ll gonna be directed into your own insanity.”

  “I’m not saying that I entirely believe my suspicion,” said the kid. “There is just the possibility that we might be feeding our best opponent.”

  “Hey, did you mean ‘our’?”

  “Uh-huh,” said the kid, nodding.

  “That should not mean you and me.”

  “Well, let’s start forming a league to investigate mysteries inside the orphanage.”

  Zeejay looked unconvinced. He glanced around the bathroom, assuring that there was no other person hearing the kid’s suggestion of forming a league whatsoever. Then he sighed, and looked at him sharply.

  “Look,” Zeejay began swiftly. “I’m not in with what you’re saying about a league. The thing is, I am too occupied to face another duty. Maybe you should recruit your own members out there, but not me, okay? I believe that Alex did not commit any mistake. He’s my friend.”

  “But, I’m not saying –”

  But the kid’s voice was lost as soon as Zeejay walked out of the room as quick as he could.

  The kid must be a friend of Fleer and Tanner, a friend they had briefed to crop on any member they could get to increase Alex’s hater. But the odd thing was: The kid was right at some measure. Alex was making haters. What for?

  Zeejay shook his head jerkily once more. He made up his mind not to fraternize with any idea that went against his roommate, Alex Abercrombe. And what he told the kid about his disagreement to his league, he meant it just the right way. Alex Abercrombe was gravely facing a consequence he did not wish for, and he just deserved Zeejay’s help.

  _________

  The following days rolled on. Zeejay did not have any trace of where Alex might be. He did not appear in the room, and Zeejay thought that maybe Mrs. Melody transferred him into a disciplinary section on the other building. But when Zeejay strolled out to check him there, he failed to see his roommate. Where could he be? On the next day, Saturday, Zeejay guessed that Alex might be disposed to the people out there who were in need of a child.

  His guess had been a waste. Zeejay observed that even John Tanner was missing, and his friends were scattering rumors of passing a hint whenever someone had found out where he was. Zeejay carefully tiptoed behind them, listening for any clue of where that Tanner boy was, because he was sure that Alex was with him. But no one seemed to know where they were.

  Several days passed, there were still no news about the two boys. The close friends to John Tanner began asking the three women, but they refused to talk.

  “You are not permitted to ask questions!” said Mrs. Melody, tilting her head so that the kids got scared. “Tsk, tsk. It seems that all of you still need proper education on manners and ethics since you are so disrespectful to the elders. Now I think. . . .”

  That went on and on, sending the kids bored on the subject. Some had even forgotten about it, some stopped tracing and following a clue that would never come. They were rarely seen talking about the matter now, maybe because Mrs. Melody restricted them from sharing gossips.

  “It’s the number one thing that you should remember,” she once said before lunch on the thirtieth. “Your mouth is the most powerful tool that could destroy the morality, integrity, and dignity of one person. Learning to keep your mouth shut on things or rumors that you are not sure of – and maybe hamper your mouths from now on so that you will grow up with discipline. . . .”

  But Mrs. Melody’s words seemed not to have registered on Denarius Fleer’s mind. He raised his hand, his plate splattering on the floor, and everyone looked at him.

  “Oops,” he said, grinning.

  “You don’t expect somebody to pick up your plate for you,” said Mrs. Melody impassively.

  Without any other words or complains, Fleer ducked and picked his plate, craving the strewn victuals on the floor, then finally setting them on his table as he looked up at Mrs. Melody again.

  “I was just wondering,” Fleer began, and all the heads turned to him once again, as though he was about to tell something interesting about the word of God, “if my friend John Tanner had gone the right way same as with his attacker Alex Abercrombe?”

  “Oh, no!” said Mrs. Melody. “As I have said, you are not permitted to talk about those matters that you are not sure of.”

  “I think I’m sure,” said Fleer.

  “Perhaps you are on the wrong place to present truthfulness,” said Mrs. Melody angrily. “In other words, clear your mind about that stupid rumor. It’s deceitful. Or else you’ll have to go to the same place as your friend.”

  “Why not?” Fleer said disrespectfully. “I am supposed to know where John is, he’s my friend.”

  “Oh, tut, tut,” whimpered Mrs. Melody. “You don’t understand what you are saying. Now – all of you focus on your lunch. Mr. Fleer – you’re not going to retake another food, which is your punishment being unethical. And, Sanders – come with me.”

  Zeejay was startled. For over the days that he was here, none of the three women talked to him. It was such an odd thing for him to feel something strange like Mrs. Melody was about to torture him in secret. But, right after, Mrs. Melody backed away and was nearing to disappear in the hallway; Zeejay stood valiantly, Fleer’s eyes following him in jealousy, and ran to catch beside the woman.

  “Here,” said Mrs. Melody, opening a huge door. “Enter and let us talk a little about. . . .” She trailed off and went inside.

  Zeejay followed her steps and entered a high-ceilinged room. On a rectangular table in the far corner were two boys playing chess silently. When the door had creaked to a close, they both glanced at the new arrivals, and seemed not to have been shocked.

  Alex was beaming at him, recognizing him as if he had not seen Zeejay for a century. But for John Tanner, he looked away just as quick as Zeejay getting his eye upon him.

  “Oh, you sit,” Mrs. Melody ordered strictly, and Zeejay obeyed, but could not resist his eyes looking at Alex and John.

  They looked like nothing happened during the last weeks. And when Mrs. Melody finally settled herself on a high-backed chair, she stretched her hands and yawned.

  “You might be questioning,” she began, “why I stocked these two folks here and refused to tell updates to the outside world – I am referring to the orphan community. Do you have any hint or any guess?”

  “N-none, ma’am,” Zeejay replied, nearing to agitate.

  Mrs. Suzette seemed to laugh, but she glanced sideways at the two boys, and then talked back to Zeejay. “It is essential that you know why, Sanders. Your roommate, Alex, was accused to have committed a crime which he was innocent of. And the fact that there has been a witness, who was Denarius Fleer, suggests that he might be wanted for questioning during the last weeks. We did that as legal and as tight as we could and we have made just the best decision. We,” Mrs. Melody sighed, “decided to cage these two boys here for them to make out whatever misunderstanding they had –”

  “But it could have done
worse things on Alex’s part, if I were him,” Zeejay snapped blatantly.

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Melody said impatiently. “By the way, this is about Abercrombe and Tanner, not you, so don’t get too close including yourself in the situation unless you want to experience the same punishment.”

  “Sorry, ma’am,” Zeejay apologized sincerely, though it would have taken a forceful convincing power if it was not Mrs. Melody.

  “Good,” she said. “So this is just to make you aware about the progress they are gaining. As you can clearly see, they are playing chess – actually a very unusual thing for them to do during the past weeks – but it’s incredible that they are able to improve. I know things are what they are because neither of them was in their domain. So as long as they’re here, no problem would occur.”

  Zeejay tried to digest what she was talking about. Then he slowly glanced at Alex, who had been so immobile staring at the figures on the board, and appearing as though they were not there.

  “I’m afraid that they will return to their normal state when I get them out, which is one of my fears. But the odd thing is, this is life, isn’t it? You’ll never learn if you will not explore.” She nodded at Zeejay, encouraging him to agree on her. “Anyway, I have other matter to tell you.”

  He tried to gulp, his heart pounding faster and faster as it took Mrs. Melody so long to say her longing. And then finally, Zeejay squared his shoulders, letting her know that he was ready to listen to whatever she would say.

  “What do you know about your relatives?” she asked. “I mean – aside from your parents’ tragedy and your aunt, what do you know about your other relatives?”

  This was one of the things that Zeejay was sure of, and it had taken almost a split of a second for him to respond. “Mom doesn’t have any brother or sister. Dad has aunt Amexis, who died a month after them.”

  Mrs. Melody waited for anything else, but Zeejay stopped so she went on.

  “Is that all?” she retorted.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Well, then there’s a good news for you.” She happily smiled at him, as though waiting for excitement to rise on Zeejay’s face, but he just stared at her. “Aren’t you happy?”

  “Happy about what?”

  “I just said I have good news for you.”

  “Good news isn’t good when they come to me.”

  “Come on, Sanders,” she called out, her voice in mirth. “You should be happy about it. Now, I’m not gonna take some time for you to agonize waiting for it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Yesterday, one living aunt of yours inquired about you. I still remember her name was like Felonina or Felodita – doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter. The thing is that she wanted to take you on her care since there is no bad thing about that. Felodita told me there is no need for you to worry where you’ll be staying; she’s got a manor house in western Galania.”

  Mrs. Melody stopped. She was not sure why Zeejay looked badly surprised about her news. Mrs. Melody tried to look tough so as to discipline Zeejay, who seemed determined not to listen to her.

  “Do you have any problem about it?” she asked him.

  “I will stay here no matter what that Fulminana does,” Zeejay said. “I don’t care who she is in our family. For over a long time, it’s not easy to adjust transferring from one place to another, and now she’s here claiming me. No way!”

  “Tsk, tsk.” Mrs. Melody shook her head. “You cannot oppose, Sanders. No matter what, she’s still your relative . . . you share the same blood, and she can claim you if she want.”

  “Claim me?” Zeejay spat. “I’m not a prize to be claimed. . . . She should be lucky if she did.”

  “As I have said,” said Mrs. Melody, “you have no right to oppose your aunt Fulminana. For the mean time since she has not yet arrived to take you, I am giving you the opportunity to say goodbye to your friends. You,” she pointed at Alex and John, “come out. Your punishment’s over. Come to lunch, it’s ready.”

  Alex and John hesitated if they heard the order right, but Mrs. Melody’s eyes met theirs, and so they hurried to meet Zeejay on the doorpost. Mrs. Melody disappeared on the other side of the hallway; Alex, John, and Zeejay, stepped into the wide dining hall full of clamoring kids.

  “Let’s better sit on one table,” said John encouragingly. “It would be hard if we squeeze ourselves in the occupied tables.”

  “Aren’t you,” said Zeejay, staring at John. “Aren’t you supposed to hate Alex now that you’re out of boundaries?”

  John chuckled and patted Zeejay’s shoulder. “You think we were only faking?”

  “Listen, Zeejay,” said Alex, “what is done is done. We’re friends now.”

  They sat on one vacant round table near the serving table. Other kinds followed them as they passed by, and they fell into an exquisite silence, whispering gossips about the impossibility that Alex and John would be friends. Zeejay, on the other hand, still appeared unconvinced at Alex’s explanation.

  Was this what he had been fighting for? All those days he was defending Alex’ side, this was just the answer? Not even a thank you. Well, it doesn’t matter to Zeejay now. He would just be leaving St. Mayleboune Orphanage soon.

  “Everybody, listen,” Mrs. Suzette boomed from the front desk. “Before you go over on your lunch, I have a quite big announcement to tell you.” She paused and looked at the other women, and the three of them talked for a few seconds before Mrs. Sandra went back to the throng.

  Zeejay was feeling fearful that Mrs. Sandra might broadcast his exile; that she might tell a goodbye speech for him or would make the whole orphanage cry for him. But Zeejay did not believe that to happen. First reason – he never got close to anybody here, that was just the great thing. Second – no one knew about his life, so why would they give a damn to cry?

  “So,” Mrs. Sandra continued. “Our headmistress, Marietta Hopkins, will be arriving tomorrow to escort us on our first ever Mid-Day Tour.”

  All of them applauded and jumped in joy, some even thumped their fists in the air.

  “Calm down, calm down. Don’t get too excited about it,” she said, “because, in return, one of you will be leaving our orphanage and might not be joining our tour. I know it’s sad. It would be up to you to know who will leave. Now take your own victuals and start eating right away.”

  The jeering and the happiness continued on as the kids stood and took their foods from the long table. Zeejay seemed to be the only one left; he was feeling angry about Mrs. Sandra telling everybody about his exile. Now he stood and walked out of the dining room, sobbing.

  CHAPTER SEVEN:

  MARIETTA HOPKINS