by M.E. Timmons
Eternity
M.E. Timmons
Copyright 2012 M.E. Timmons
ETERNITY
Chapter 1
I entered the room just in time to narrowly avoid getting hit in the head with a flying lamp, which hit the wall next to me and smashed into dozens of pieces. I stood there paralyzed for a second, but when I looked up at Jack's face I relaxed. There was guilt written all over him.
"Sorry, Juliet," he mumbled to me. "I didn't see you there."
I was prevented from replying by Ms. Holland, who was the head of Pembrook Home, the orphanage in which we lived. She was glaring angrily at Jack, who was starting to look sheepish.
"Mr. Leewood, I don't care what problems you have with the way I run things around here. I will not tolerate such behaviour."
Jack buckled slightly under the power of her gaze. Even after living in Pembrook his whole life, he was as affected by Ms. Holland as the rest of us. At least, most of the time. There were times recently, and becoming more frequent, that he lost his temper regardless of who he was with.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Holland," he said, not quite meeting the older woman's eyes. "I don't know what came over me."
"Well, whatever it was, it's becoming a problem," she snapped. "Perhaps a weekend helping Mrs. Jameson in the kitchen will teach you a lesson. I expect you to report to her at seven o'clock in the morning tomorrow and Sunday, and not a minute later. She will decide when you are free."
With that she turned and started to storm out, but she stopped right in front of me, turning to Jack again. "Don't forget to clean up that mess," she barked, indicating the shattered lamp on the floor. With a withering glance in my direction, she finally exited.
"Jack..." I started, but he held up a hand to stop me.
"I know Jules. It just happened again. It's like I can't control myself."
I nodded, deciding not to say anything. I knew he felt bad enough as it was. "I'll go get the broom," I said instead.
As I went to the supply closet, I thought about Jack, who had been my best friend since I ended up at Pembrook at the age of three. I was sixteen now, so that was a long time ago. Jack was the only person who was there for longer than me, since he had been living there for almost his entire life.
Jack was the nicest person I knew. Ever since he turned sixteen, however, his temper had been getting worse, and even he had no idea why. He even lost his temper with me at times, and I was his best friend. I knew he felt bad about it, of course, but it surprised me every time his normally soft brown eyes sparked with anger. I had a theory about it, but I kept it to myself. He wouldn't believe me anyway.
I brought the broom to Jack and sat down on the couch as he cleaned up the pieces of broken glass, since he wouldn't let me help. We were in the living room, which had scuffed white walls and mismatched furniture. It was normally a well-used room, but most of the younger kids were outside, enjoying the sun after getting back from school. The older kids tended to spend most of their free time in their own rooms, where they had a small measure of privacy. Jack and I both tended to avoid our rooms, though, especially because we couldn't be together in either.
"You know, this kind of gets in the way of our weekend plans," I commented, just as Jack finished sweeping the last pieces of lamp into the ancient metal dustpan he was holding.
"If you mean taking a trip to the library, then I'm not going to complain."
I raised my eyebrows. "You honestly think working in the kitchen is going to be better than going to the library?" Jack's aversion to books was one of the few things we didn't have in common.
He shrugged, smiling. "At least there's something to do in the kitchen."
I threw a pillow at him.
