Shawn
The Brighton Boys' Home was not the largest of buildings for thirty-eight active youths, but nor was it terribly small. It was rather a comfortable size, built expressly for its current purpose and managed with the best of care. It was just the right sort of place for a neglected boy of twelve to sixteen.
But the small blond boy in the lobby was only eleven. He clutched a cheap spiral-bound notebook to his chest, pretending not to hear the snatches of conversation from the two adults across the room.
"--adorable as a puppy--"
"--terrorized the younger children"
"That frightened little thing?"
"Fear...that's what drives him--his parents--"
"They WHA-- then he'll need better--"
"Here is better."
"Wellll...if you're sure...What's his name again?"
"Shawn. S-H-A-W-N."
He smiled bitterly. Even here his reputation as a troublesome child would be known, and they would talk with him, care for him -- until another new boy came along and he was forgotten. Well, he wouldn't let them forget about him.
A hushed whisper, "They get along so well... I'd hate to see them broken up..."
Nothing new there. Everyone got along fine without him. He'd only been an outcast again. Only this time there was no neighborhood cat, no runaway ferret. Just him, alone.
