The next few days passed in a blur of routine, yet the awkwardness between Ellie and me lingered like a stubborn shadow. The atmosphere around the orphanage buzzed with excitement as everyone eagerly threw themselves into the lively festival preparations. Children could be seen painting colourful banners, crafting decorations, and organizing game stalls with enthusiasm. Colourful banners were hung from the porch, and the scent of freshly painted crafts filled the air as we gathered supplies. Laughter echoed as Jenna and Sarah tried to outdo each other with their creative ideas for decorations, while Theo and Claire set up stalls and brainstormed games to entertain the other children.
Despite the joy surrounding us, I found myself distracted, my thoughts often drifting back to that fleeting moment Ellie and I shared. Each time our eyes met across the crowded dining room or during our bustling crafting sessions, a jolt of unease surged through me, like a sudden lightning bolt cutting through the summer sky. It was as if the air thickened with the weight of our unspoken words, creating an invisible barrier that separated us. I could sense Ellie’s shy glances, filled with uncertainty, and it made my heart race with confusion and curiosity. What had once been easy camaraderie now felt heavy, and every shared smile seemed to carry the weight of things left unsaid.
At breakfast, Jenna and Sarah were buzzing with excitement about the festival, their chatter punctuated by bursts of laughter and animated gestures. Yet, my attention was fixed on Ellie, who sat quietly at the edge of the table, her usual thoughtful expression more pronounced than ever. It was as if she were lost in her world, her gaze distant but not unfocused. She kept looking at me, sometimes with a timid smile playing on her lips, other times with a hopeful glimmer in her eyes as if she longed for me to break the silence. But I couldn’t. Every time I opened my mouth, I didn’t know what to say. How did one even talk about something like an accidental kiss?
I couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had shifted in our dynamic. Ellie wasn’t the same around me, and it wasn’t just because of the kiss. Each time I glanced her way, I found myself wondering if she felt the same unease or if it was all in my head. We’d been friends for so long, but suddenly, I didn’t know how to act around her. I was confused. And maybe, just a little scared.
Suddenly, Jenna's voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present moment. “Lumen, are you even listening?” She waved a hand in front of my face, laughing.
I blink and force a smile. “Yeah, yeah. What were you saying again?”
Sarah rolled her eyes but grinned. “We’re talking about the festival. You know, the one happening right here in town? The one where we get to have fun?”
“Oh, right,” I mumbled, glancing at Ellie again. She was still looking away, her face unreadable.
“Come on, Lumen, snap out of it! This is a big deal!” Jenna said, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
“There will be games, stalls with food, music... and maybe even jugglers!” Sarah added.
The mention of jugglers finally pulled me out of my daze. The festival held special significance as the first one in years, marking a rare occasion for the children of the orphanage. As children who had spent most of our lives within the confines of the orphanage, the festival presented a rare opportunity to venture beyond familiar boundaries and embrace new experiences. We’d heard the adults talk about it, whispering about how the town would transform. Even the streets, which were usually quiet and plain, would be filled with colours, sounds, and people from faraway places.
I closed my eyes, imagining the vibrant colours of the bustling crowds, the tantalizing aroma of sizzling food wafting from the stalls, and the joyful sounds of laughter and music blending into a symphony that echoed through the air. It was hard to imagine, but part of me couldn’t wait to see it for myself.
Theo, who was sitting across from me, gave me a nudge. “You still thinking about Marcus?”
I shrugged, grateful for the distraction. “Not really. But it’s weird how Marcus has just... stopped.”
Sarah nodded thoughtfully. “It’s like the calm before a storm.”
Before anyone could answer, Marcus made his sudden reappearance in the dining area. His presence was a stark reminder of the unresolved tension that loomed over us all. The tranquillity that enveloped us like a fragile bubble seemed poised to burst, echoing the distant rumble of an approaching tempest.
Marcus gave us a look with a sinister smile and said, “Time is coming,” before walking away. His henchmen followed, giving us threatening glances.
Theo gritted his teeth. “Why doesn’t someone do something about him?”
I shrugged again. “At least we’ve had a few weeks of peace.” But even I knew it was fleeting.
Sarah, ever the strategist, leaned forward with a decisive tone. “We need to strategize a plan to confront him directly and put an end to his disruptive behaviour once and for all.”
Claire, always nervous when it came to conflict, whispered, “Ignore him for now. We need to meet Mrs. Helen and Mrs. Hargrove.”
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Hearing that brought a sense of relief. Mrs. Hargrove and Mrs. Helen were two of the only adults in the orphanage who truly cared about us. A sense of warmth and comfort enveloped me at the mere thought of reuniting with Mrs. Hargrove and Mrs. Helen, highlighting the deep emotional bond I shared with them. Memories flashed in my mind—times when they had offered kind words, a pat on the back, or a comforting hug when the world seemed too big and scary.
As we moved closer to the children’s dorm, memories of my childhood flooded my mind. I’d been in this orphanage since birth, long before the others arrived. The dorm walls held pieces of my past, moments of joy and pain that only I remembered. I could picture myself, younger, smaller, running down these halls, sometimes with tears in my eyes, sometimes with a smile as wide as the sky. The others didn’t seem to feel the same as we walked, chatting lightly about the festival. But for me, it felt like walking through a gallery of my life.
My pace quickened, and when we reached the dorm, I couldn’t stop myself. I rushed forward and hugged Mrs. Hargrove tightly.
The others stood frozen in surprise, their eyes wide and mouths slightly open, as if in disbelief. I had never been the one to show affection openly, but Mrs. Hargrove... she was the closest thing I had to a mother.
Mrs. Hargrove smiled warmly, hugging me back. “You also came, Lumen. I thought you might not,” she said, her voice soft, filled with understanding.
Mrs. Helen chuckled and said, “Let’s discuss why we called the children here.”
Before Mrs. Helen could say anything, Mrs. Hargrove interrupted, grinning, “Do you all want some sweet bread? I made it today.”
We all nodded eagerly in unison. The smell of fresh, warm bread filled the room, a rich, yeasty aroma that enveloped us like a cozy blanket. My mouth watered at the sight of the golden crust, perfectly baked to a deep, inviting brown, its surface glistening with a hint of melted butter. As I tore off a piece, the warm, soft interior yielded easily, releasing a cloud of steam that danced in the air. The texture was light and airy, slightly chewy, making each bite feel indulgent.
Mrs. Helen finally composed herself and began, “As you all know, the festival is happening after almost ten years. None of you have seen it here before.”
Jenna, her curiosity piqued, asked, “But why after ten years?”
Mrs. Hargrove’s smile faded slightly, and her voice grew serious. “You see, there must be a reason to celebrate, right?”
We all nodded.
She continued, “There hasn’t been anything good in the last decade to celebrate. Droughts, wars, crime—all of it left us with little reason for joy.”
Mrs Helen quickly stepped in. “Let’s not burden the children with depressing news.”
Mrs. Hargrove shook her head gently. “Ah, yes. Children, you all need to enjoy this festival. It may be the first one you’ll remember, and it could be something special.”
Theo and Jenna, always excited, asked, “What kind of stalls will there be?”
“There will be food, games, and even a farmer’s market with fresh produce,” Mrs. Hargrove replied. “Vendors from all around will come. Imagine the smell of freshly baked pies, roasted meat, and the sweet scent of candied apples. There will be stalls selling toys, hand-carved wooden figures, and even colourful fabrics from distant lands.”
Excitement bubbled within me at the thought, setting my heart racing with anticipation. The orphanage could feel so small sometimes, but the festival—if it was as grand as they described—would be like opening a window to the wider world. I could almost picture it: the streets lined with stalls, banners fluttering in the breeze, and crowds of people milling about, their voices filled with excitement.
“There will be games, too,” Mrs. Hargrove continued. “Children from all over will come to play. You might win prizes like handmade crafts, colourful ribbons, or small toys—simple trinkets, but special nonetheless.”
Jenna grinned. “I’m going to try every game!”
Mrs. Helen smiled. “Let’s not get too carried away. You’ll all have a chance to help with the festival, too.”
“I need to talk to you,” she said quietly, her tone soft but insistent.
I followed her, my curiosity piqued and my heart racing with anticipation. We found a quiet spot under the old tree near the broken wall overlooking the pond, away from the others. Ellie stood there, her hands nervously twisting the fabric of her dress, her face unreadable.
“I wanted to explain,” she began, glancing down at her shoes. “I wasn’t asking you to show your drawings, Lumen. I know those are private.” She paused, her eyes lifting to meet mine. “But... maybe we could create something new together. For the festival.”
Her words caught me off guard. I had expected her to bring up the kiss or to talk about what happened, but this? This was different. She was talking about the festival, about making something together.
“What kind of drawings?” I asked, intrigued despite myself.
Ellie brightened, clearly excited by the idea. “We could draw things that people might want to buy. Like... pictures of animals or landscapes. I heard Mrs. Helen say that people like that kind of stuff. We could sell them at the festival and maybe make a little money.”
I frowned. “I don’t know... I’ve never drawn for other people before. It’s always been just for me.”
Ellie nodded, understanding. “I get that. But... it might be fun. And it wouldn’t be your sketches. These would be new ones, just for the festival.”
I thought about it for a moment. The idea of sharing my art with strangers made me uneasy, but there was something about the way Ellie talked about it—her excitement, her optimism—that made me want to try.
“Okay,” I said finally. “I’ll do it.”
Ellie’s face lit up with a smile, but then, just as quickly, her expression grew serious again. She bit her lip, hesitating before speaking again.
“There’s something else I need to tell you.”
I tilted my head, confused. “What is it?”
Ellie took a deep breath. “I might not be here after the festival.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What? What do you mean?”
“My aunt... she’s been talking about taking me back to live with her. I don’t know for sure yet, but... it might happen.”
The weight of her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Ellie, leaving? It didn’t seem real. We’d all been together for so long, it was hard to imagine any of us leaving.
“Does anyone else know?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Ellie shook her head. “No. I haven’t told anyone yet.”
I didn’t know what to say. My mind was racing, trying to process the news. Ellie might leave. Ellie might be gone. The thought of it left a hollow ache in my chest.
We stood there in silence, the weight of her words settling between us like a heavy blanket. Finally, Ellie gave me a small, sad smile.
“But... we still have the festival,” she said quietly. “Let’s make the most of it, okay?”
I nodded, though my mind was far from the festival. The idea of Ellie leaving loomed over my thoughts like a heavy fog, enveloping everything in a shroud of uncertainty and sadness. A deep sense of loss and fear gripped my heart, making the impending departure feel like an insurmountable hurdle in our shared world.