The Things That Matter Most Chapter 3

The third chapter.

Chapter Three: Charles Finds Out About His New Home

“Hello, Charles,” the man sitting at the desk said.

Charles scowled and didn’t answer. He had been driven from his flaming home to a small fostercare building, forced to sit in a chair, had to wait to be spoken to about the fire, and now he was here.

The man sighed. “Charles, if you said something- anything- then we could make this conversation all the easier.”

Charles folded his arms in defiance.

The man gave up. “Fine,” he breathed, getting irritated. “Now, your parents are dead now, yes?”

The ten year old nodded curtly.

“And your mansion is burned down so you have no home anymore?”

Another nod.

The man, Mr. Hughes, sighed. “Alright. The fact that you are an orphan and have no home is not to be ignored. You need to be placed somewhere. Do you have any relatives that would take you in? An aunt or uncle, perhaps?”

“Not that I ever met…,” Charles muttered, finally speaking.

Mr. Hughes smiled. “Ah! You’ve spoken. Excellent.” He mood darkened. “So, you have no alive relatives that could take you in, your home is burned down, and there’s nowhere for you to stay. I’m afraid that you’ll be going to an orphanage sooner or later.”

Charles snapped to attention. An orphanage? he thought. I’m much too rich for one of those. “But, may I remind you, I am a trillionaire. Surely I can buy another mansion for me to live in, instead of going to an orphanage.” The word tasted ugly in his mouth.

The man closed his eyes. “Charles, I’m not sure if you’re aware of something.”

“What is it, then?”

“Due to the fact that you are underage, your bank account has been frozen. You can’t take money out. Once you reach eighteen or get adopted, whichever comes sooner, is the only time you can earn back your money.”

Charles slumped against his chair in shock and horror. He was poor now. He wasn’t a trillionaire anymore. He was a simple orphan with no place in the world. Anger sprouted like a quick growing seed in Charles’s stomach. Fury swarmed his vision. His parents had done this. They had died and left him alone to fend for himself with no money, no home, and no hope.

“Well, then do something!” exploded Charles. “I am a trillionaire and do not deserve this inconvenience. I need to unfreeze my bank account; not go to some dirty orphanage with disgusting poor children. I am above this! Until things are set to my liking, I am not leaving!”

Mr. Hughes stiffened at the child’s behavior. He had dealt with many orphans before, some of them richer than others, but they never put up such a fight as Charles. “Charles,” he began slowly. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing that I can do. You are being sent to an orphanage, whether you want to or not. Nothing can be done about that. Put on a happy face and look at things in the best way possible.”

Charles narrowed his eyes as he stood to meet the man’s calm gaze. “I haven’t smiled, felt happy, or looked on the bright side for years. If you think that your little speech could change my mind about that, you are more unintelligent than I first thought.”

The man took in a sharp breath. He had to be firm with Charles now. It was clear that the child would not cooperate without enforcement.

“Mr. McHills,” he said, “you are going to an orphanage. I’m sorry. I truly am. But some things can’t be changed. Now all that’s left to be done is to find an open space in an orphanage and put you in it before it fills up. Is that clear?”

Tears tried to leak out of Charles’s eyes, but he forced them back. “It’s clear, yes, but not to my liking. You may have gotten your way this time, but I promise you that you’ll be sorry.”

Mr. Hughes sighed, and stood up. “Alright, Charles. Come with me. Let’s get you placed somewhere so our business can be done.”

The man led the boy out of the room and down the hall. They entered another larger room full of thick files from floor to ceiling. Mr. Hughes went through them for at least a half an hour (Charles stood in the corner, not helping and not wanting to), until he finally found what he was looking for, and smiled.

“Perfect. There’s been an opening at St. Franklin’s orphanage recently, and it’s still open. It’s actually quite close to here. I suspect that you’ll be placed there by next week at most,” he told Charles.

The boy tightened his lips. “That’s quite a wait. Where will I stay until then?”

The man looked confused. “Why here, of course.”

Charles groaned, and made sure that the man noticed it. “I suspect that this place will not be to my liking. I’ll have to sleep on a hard bed each night and wake up to a simple and dry breakfast. During the day I’ll have nothing to do, and I will see you all the time,” he complained.

The man shrugged. “It won’t be that bad, Charles. The cots we have are quite cozy, and our breakfasts are simple but filling. There’s plenty to do here… you can go on errands with whoever you wish, and I’m sure that you won’t have to see me if you long not to. Everything will be fine!” he claimed.

Charles tightened his fists. He wasn’t convinced.

“Now I can show you your room for the next week if you like,” offered Mr. Hughes, trying to brighten the child’s mood.

“It’s not like I can do anything else,” Charles retorted.

They left the file room with Charles thinking that he was the most unfortunate boy in the world.

Was he?

I’ll say not.

*****

That night, Charles laid alone in his cot, beginning to get angry about the fact that it was so uncomfortable.

He thought about going to an orphanage. It seemed like a horrible idea, and he would surely stick out from the rest of the children.

He would never admit it, but he was scared. Now that he had no money or high titles to call his own, it left him feeling depressed and useless. He tried to sleep, but the usual tiredness did not come.

For hours the boy lay there, shivering from the coldness that had taken over his room, and from the traumatic experience of becoming an orphan so hastily.

With his brown eyes wide open, he waited for dawn to come.

Author's Note

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