A/N: Being 22 and looking over this (I sometimes reread to fix grammar or wording, or out of boredom or sentimentality), I was like, "Wow, this whole situation with the prank and Lacey is totally unrealistic." Then I remembered some of the stupid shit I got into when I was this age. It checks out.
Wardens are people who look over children (their wards) at Wammy's, occasionally meeting them, keeping records on their progress, helping them improve however they can, even looking over their health. They're all assigned to specific kids. If one of their wards becomes particularly notable (or difficult) as they get older, their other wards are assigned to someone else. The warden will then have just their one ward. While they work directly with the kids, the wardens are all very different people, so their relationships with the kids differ. There are familial relations, professional, researcher-subject, etc.
What we know about Wammy's: it's a chain of orphanages, the kids are successors of L, all the kids possess certain skills that are beyond what regular people are capable of (addressed in HtR 13), the kids are still allowed to play games and act like kids and stuff, the (one) employee we've seen is a caretaker and seems nice, Roger hates kids, the kids are educated on L and his accomplishments and exposed to crime solving and whatnot, at least one child we know of is suggested to have gone on to do something outside of crime-solving. Anything outside of this is me adding onto Wammy's to turn it into something with more depth. This includes the wardens.
How did being a polyglot get Allison into Wammy's? How does that help her be an investigator to potentially succeed L? Answer: it doesn't. Allison assumes this is the talent that got her into Wammy's. In reality, she is incorrect in her assumption. All the OCs, except Lacey (who's the only one who bothered asking), assumed what their talent was that got them chosen.
Little note as for Roger: in the official English manga, he's only referred to twice by name, as far as I can recall. Once by staff, who address him as Mr. Roger. Once by Mello, who refers to him as Roger. I just decided most people call him Mr. Roger except for Mello and a few others who aren't as respectful.
Anyway, Joy and Allison are horrible to each other, but they by no means hate each other.
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Patience
"Patience," I heard a voice say, "you have to get up now."
In response, I put my pillow over my head.
"It's already 8:20," the voice pressed. I didn't make any move to get up from my bed. "Come on now, don't be a slugabed!" I groaned. Maybe for her it was, but for me it was 3:20 AM.
"I'm sorry, but you leave me no choice. Joy! Go get the ice water!"
That got me up.
"Whoa, no need for ice water!" I said, shooting up.
"Aw," Joy whined. Apparently, she had been looking forward to it.
I heard a laugh and turned to see who had been talking. It was, unsurprisingly, Allison.
"Why do I have to get up now?" I asked. "It's Saturday."
"I'm aware," Allison assured me, "but you have an appointment."
"Appointment?" I echoed.
"Yes, so get dressed!" she ordered.
I began to get changed, and I noticed that a little girl was in the room.
"Who's this?" I asked.
"This is Birdie," Allison said. "She's like family, so you'll be seeing a lot of her."
"Allison and I are going take you to go see Mr. Roger," said the girl.
"Mr. Roger?" I echoed.
Joy rolled her eyes, which landed on Allison. "She doesn't know who he is? What sort of useless information were you giving when you were supposed to be showing her around last night?"
"Joy, don't be a jerk," said Allison. "I know you can't help it, but at least try." She then addressed me, saying, "Roger is the temporary manager here at Wammy's."
"Temporary? Who's he filling in for?" I asked.
"Mr. Wammy," she explained. "Roger fills in for Mr. Wammy whenever he's gone. Though he's been gone for a while now, so we kind of think of Roger as the manager.
"He picked an odd job though, seeing as he hates kids."
"Yeah, well, they're not too fond of him, either," said Joy.
"Where's May?" I asked.
"Out getting something for Roger," Allison answered, "then when she gets back, she's going to go through some kids' files or something."
"She's allowed to go through people's files?" I asked.
"You ask a lot of questions," Birdie noted.
Allison giggled. "Yes, May's allowed to because there's a lot of work for Roger to do, and the other people who work here are too preoccupied with making sure that we don't burn down the place or something. Also, paperwork. May's the only kid in this entire place Roger trusts won't do something bad."
"Everybody likes May!" Birdie added.
"That's right," Allison said with a laugh.
At that point I had finished dressing. "Okay, then," I said, "I guess I'm all ready to go."
"Hooray! Let's get moving, ladies!" ordered Birdie.
"Alright," said Allison. "Joy, do you want to come?"
"No," Joy replied immediately after being asked, "so do one."
"Oh well," I said. "Allison, I think we'd better go now. Birdie's already halfway down the hall."
"It's fine," Allison assured me, "she has a short attention span."
After catching up to Birdie, which didn't take very long, we all headed to see Mr. Roger.
"Hey, Allison, you guys never told me your skills that got you in here," I said. "What are your gifts?"
"Gifts?" Allison echoed in confusion. After a few seconds she seemed to understand what I meant. "Oh, our gifts. Well, Wammy's is an orphanage for gifted children, but it's not like they'll take in just any smart kid—though I'm sure there are branches that take in regular kids. Not this one, though. There are some basic 'gifts' we're required to have in addition to whatever else makes us worth being accepted to a Wammy's like this one."
"What are those basic gifts?" I asked.
Allison shrugged. "I don't work here.
"As for our 'overall' gifts, for me... well, from what I can remember, I was taken in after they realized I can learn languages very quickly. Right now I can speak, let's see, one, two, three... six different languages fluently.
"May is just an overall genius. Mello and Matt also got in because they're intellectually gifted. I know, you wouldn't guess because they both look so stupid, but it's true." Despite the insult, I could tell it was in good fun. She seemed to brighten just at the mention of them. Apparently, I hadn't run into just any two boys the evening before. I had run into two boys Allison was very close to. "A lot of the kids here fall into that category, actually.
"And Joy... well, she refuses to talk about her talent, but I'm guessing that she got in because she has the talent of being able to make even the happiest person ever want to die."
"Okay," I said. "Not in front of the kid." I glanced down at the little girl. "What about Birdie? ...And just how old is she?"
"Birdie?" said Allison. "She's four."
"Four?" I was dumbfound. I guess why they call them "child prodigies," I figured. "And her gift?"
"Her gift? Let's see... Birdie, what is 1,365 divided by three?"
Birdie stopped and put her finger to her lip, pondering this for a moment. After about five seconds she answered, "455."
My mouth dropped, and my eyes widened. I stared at the little girl, stunned. "Wow," was all I could manage to get out.
"Yeah," Allison replied with a giggle. "You become used to it after a while."
After several minutes of listening to Birdie rant about birds, the three of us arrived at Mr. Roger's office. We entered the room, and there sat a fragile-looking old man at a desk. He wore glasses and was reading a book, his work sitting next to him, already having been finished.
"Come in," he said.
Birdie, Allison, and I all walked into the room... Well, Allison and I did. Birdie skipped into the room.
"You are Patience, I presume," he said.
I nodded.
"Have you become accustomed to the Wammy's House?" he asked.
An odd question to ask, seeing as this was only my second day here. Nonetheless, I nodded. I wasn't exactly eager to talk because he was making me feel rather uncomfortable.
"I see," he said. Was this an interrogation or something? "While you are here, I should have you know that this orphanage is for only the most talented children. You must be on your best behavior at all times."
"What?" said Allison in disbelief. "Then why in God's name is Joy still here?"
Mr. Roger gave Allison a warning look, and she quickly shut up.
"...and Bruce Young will be your warden, overseeing your progress. Any questions?" he said after fifteen torturous minutes of him talking.
Questions... I actually had several, but I wasn't going to press my luck, so I only chose one.
"Um, yes," I said. "Actually, I was wondering if there are any files on me that I could look at."
"No, that's not possible," Mr. Roger said.
"But please," I begged, "I just want to see if I can find out who my birth mother is."
Okay, so you should probably know that I had always wanted to learn more about my mother—my birth mother, that is. Not even my father; just my birth mother. That reoccurring dream, real or not, had lit a flame of curiosity in me. But I could never get information on my birth mother. I had asked my mom, but she told me no one knew because I was a Safe Haven baby.
Whenever I had brought up my reoccurring dream about the woman named Emily, she would say it wasn't true. At one point, I had been so fixated on the possibility of my dream being true that it was all I talked about. I had eventually become frustrated with my mom's refusal to confirm my theory, so I shouted, "But you're not even my real mother!"
Probably not the nicest thing to say, and Mom had ended up locking herself in her bedroom for about an hour after that, sobbing.
Maybe asking was useless. Maybe Mom was right. But I had to try. Because if I found her, maybe the hole in my heart where Mom used to be wouldn't hurt so much.
"You can't look at your files," Mr. Roger said.
"Well, can you?" I asked. "Then you could tell me just that one thing so I can—"
"—No," Mr. Roger said firmly.
I wasn't going to give up so easily. I'd pestered my mother for well over a month before I'd given up on finding anything out from her. I was about to continue the argument when the door to the office opened.
"May!" cheered Birdie, running up and hugging May.
Allison stared at me curiously.
"Nice to see you too, love," May said with a laugh. "Mr. Roger, I picked up that letter you mentioned."
"Thank you, May," he replied. "I'll be leaving in fifteen minutes, and then you can sort the files. I won't be gone long, though."
"Okay," said May.
All of us left the office, and as we walked away (Birdie, once again, skipping), Allison had already come up with a plan which she was now putting into action.
"Hey, May," she said. "Do you think you can do me a favor, please?"
"It depends on what it is," said May, sounding suspicious.
Allison glanced at me and then asked, "Can you go through Patience's files?"
"What?" May exclaimed.
"She just wants to see if she can find out about her birth mother," Allison explained. "Right, Patience?"
I quickly nodded.
"I can't be going through peoples' files! I'm not even supposed to be reading them! I just organize them," she explained.
"Please, May," I said, "I just want to know who my birth mother is. I've never known her, and I have a feeling she's still alive. I might be able to find her."
"Soz, Patience, but I can't. Anyroad, it's not like there's much information about childer here. Most crucial information has been transferred to computers by now. They're transitioning files from paper to computer systems. They've transferred most of the important stuff, but even then, there's no guarantee they'd have even bothered putting in your birth name. It's not considered important once you come her. All that's in those paper files is basic information about maybe talents and some other things-like person who was in charge of their registration or day they arrived here or summat."
"Even so, couldn't you try? You might be able to find something," I pointed out to her.
As I said this, Allison was whispering something into Birdie's ear.
"May, can't you do it?" Birdie begged. "For me?"
May sighed. Apparently, Allison had just pulled an ace out on her. "Aye," said May, giving in, "but I have to get me work done first. With time I have left, I'll look for your file, love."
May nodded and then turned to Allison. "Well now, Allison," she said, "that's right awful of you."
"I try," said Allison with a triumphant smirk. "Very good. Have at it, then!"
"We have another twelve minute while Mr. Roger leaves," May informed her.
"Okay, twelve minutes it is," Allison agreed.
May had said yes. Suddenly I felt hopeful, sure that May would succeed. I knew it; I knew she wouldn't fail. I would find out who my birth mother was.
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Mr. Roger had left, so Allison, Birdie, and I were wandering in the hallways, trying to pass the time. Allison had insisted that we follow her since she had someone she needed to go see. After a while we finally found who she had been looking for: Mello.
"Hi, Mello!" Allison exclaimed.
"Hi," he replied, looking up from a book with a smile. When he noticed Birdie and I were accompanying her, he raised a questioning eyebrow. He didn't exactly know me well, and I'm guessing he didn't usually socialize with four-year-olds.
"I just have to ask you a question," Allison explained. "Can you help?"
Reluctantly and almost suspiciously, Mello closed his book, putting it down and replying, "Fine. What is it?"
"Great—oh, but first, I forgot something," Allison said. "Birdie, Patience, you two stay here. I'll be back in a minute."
"Allison!" he called after her, annoyed by her antics but also not seeming all that surprised. For about three minutes, Mello and I had to listen to Birdie talking about the kind of random, weird stuff four-year-olds talk about. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Allison came back.
"What did you need?" I asked, seeing as she had brought nothing with her.
"Oh, well, that's simple," Allison said with a mischievous grin.
"What did you do?" Mello said, knowing he would regret asking.
"Moi?" Allison said with mock offense. "I would never!"
"You would, and you have," Mello replied, causing Allison to shrug in defeat. He seemed concerningly used to this.
"Alright, I'll own," Allison said. "I was talking to Joy, and the two of us made a little deal. Right now, she's speaking with Lacey."
Mello seemed to wince at the name.
"Who's Lacey?" I asked.
"Lacey's a dear!" Allison raved. "She's always so kind and honest, and she has a little crush on Mello."
"A little?" Mello scoffed. "I wish."
"Anyhoo," Allison said, "she's telling Lacey about Patience, since Lacey loves meeting new people."
"Where is this going?" Mello dared to ask.
"Well," Allison said, her maniacal grin returning, "Joy's telling her that you and Patience are dating."
"What?" Mello and I said at the same time. He sounded much more concerned than I did.
"Mello," I said, "what's going on?"
"Lacey's nice to me," said Birdie, "but one time someone got her mad, and she broked his wrist."
"Yeah," said Allison, "she can be nice, but she's very tetchy and violent."
As Allison said this, Joy came running up to us. "She's on her way; I outran her."
"How do you outrun Lacey?" Allison asked, bewildered.
"You trip her," Joy said matter-of-factly.
"Joy! Allison!" I exclaimed. "Why would you guys do this?"
Allison shrugged, and Joy simply responded, "There was nothing good on the telly; just reruns of—"
Not waiting for Joy to finish, Mello grabbed my wrist and ran like his life depended on it. He actually grabbed the sweatband that I always wore, so it slid down my wrist. I kept telling him to stop, but he just kept running until he got to his room and locked the door behind us.
Panting, I told him to let go of my wrist. Not realizing he had been doing so, he looked down at his hand and then let go.
He just had to look down. That's what I had been dreading.
I quickly pulled my sweatband up, but Mello grabbed my arm and pulled it down, revealing my scar.
"You did this?" he asked.
Reluctantly, I nodded. I'd only done it once, actually; a long time ago, after seeing an older kid do it. It hurt, and after wondering why anyone in their right mind would ever do something that dumb, I ran home crying to my mother; she was not happy.
I had to get stitches and was then told by the doctor that if the mark did eventually fade, it would take several years.
After explaining why I'd done it, my mother and I went home. Then the child who I'd originally seen do it was confronted by her parents—cursing my name in the process—and I was never allowed to hold a pair of scissors again.
"Don't," he said.
"Why not? It's none of your business," I argued, even though I hadn't planned on ever doing it again.
"Yeah, it is," he said. "Matt and Allison seem to like you; they thought you were a good person. If you're their friends, that makes you my friend, too."
A friend...
"All my friends went away," I said. "People always end up leaving."
"I won't leave," he said.
My eyes widened at this. I stared at him in disbelief and whispered, "You won't?"
"No," he assured me.
"Promise?"
He rolled his eyes, but nonetheless, he agreed. "Promise."
Suddenly, there was a loud knocking on the door.
"Mello!" a voice called. "I know she's in there with you!"
"Oh, crud," he said. "It's Lacey."