The Red

Chapter 5

Jill and I like to run. Because we don't go to a normal school, we don't have the option of sports. There's the recreation center, but Cathy doesn't have a lot of extra money for things like that. Last year we decided we ought to keep in shape, so we simply run. As a result, we are probably some of the skinniest kids in the orphanage.

Beth hands me a plate, which I then spray off with the faucet, and hand to Jill to dry.

Beth is ten, with brown hair cut just below her chin. She spends most of her time with eight-year-olds. She's coming out of the adoption zone, about to join the "us" table.

She hands me the last plate, and pulls the plug from the sink.

"See you, Beth," I tell her as I dry my hands and walk away with Jill.

Jill's lesson isn't until 3:00, and mine is right before dinner, at 5:00. Every different age group has lessons at different times. I get taught with Preston, who insists on attending all of the lessons. He doesn't want to forget the younger kid things, but he also likes learning the complex stuff, too. But I guess as long as he enjoys it, I shouldn't have a problem.

We're heading to the dorm when the newspaper on the kitchen counter catches my attention. Not just the newspaper - but the headline. I pick it up and begin to read the article.

The Red Strikes Again

America's most wanted villain(s), The Red, have committed yet another crime. Paulette's Jewelry Store was broken into early this morning. The incident left shattered windows and showcases. A worker of the store, Nancy Young, was found dead in a corner of the store, and The Red escaped with some of the most valuable products.
As usual, no fingerprints or any type of evidence was found, excluding The Red's "logo" sticker stuck to the door.

It shows a picture of the sticker. It's the black silhouette of a man, a woman, and a child, printed on a circular white sticker. The man holds a bag - most likely stolen money or valuables - and the woman holds a gun. In between them, they each hold the hand of the little boy silhouette.

My blood runs cold. I return to the article.

The Red are famous for robbing countless stores, convicting murders, and leaving no evidence, except this vague sticker.

"It's like they're messing with us," says Martin Jones, owner of a nearby store, "They'll leave us this clue, but nothing to back it up."

I put the article down. I can't. I just can't think about this.

"Natalie?"

I jump. But it's just Jill.

"Sorry," I say.

We exit the room and continue to the dorm.

Inside, we each put on our running shorts and shoes. On our way out the door, we pass Stephano and Susan and I am reminded of the reason we decided to leave the orphanage in the first place.

Once we're outside, I feel free. Spring birds are chirping, and I can easily spot their little nests in the blossomed trees. Cars whiz past the orphanage. The orphanage is a tall brick building. It looks old, except for the shiny "Madame Catherine's Orphanage" sign that Cathy had to put up when she bought the orphanage thirteen years ago.

"Should we go?" Jill asks.

"Sure."

We begin to jog down the cracked sidewalk. We pass some old-style houses before we begin to see small shops and diners. They're all faded with age, but I think I like it that way.

My feet hit the sidewalk almost soundlessly. I fall into a rhythm beside Jill. After an indefinite amount of mindless jogging, my thoughts travel to Nancy Young, the woman killed by The Red.