Nowhere: Book 1 of the Steorra Trilogy

Chapter One

Jack stood about five and a half feet tall, but if anyone asked, his answer would usually be about four inches taller. He had a round face, dotted with soft freckles and amber-brown eyes. Like most boys at the orphanage, his mop of strawberry brown hair was trimmed short, long on the top, and buzzed on the sides.

He lived on the fourth floor of the old Gregory Orphanage. A brick building that could have been from medieval times, crowded with at least 23 other boys. It smelt like a mix between a gym locker and a pawn shop and you could hear people everywhere you went. 

Even with the whole place being extremely crowded, Jack was usually alone. Despite spending years at Gregory, he didn't have any close friends. No one really looked for an awkward, extremely clumsy kid for anything. Jack had a reputation for creating chaos wherever he went, and people learned to avoid him. 

Just the other day, when he was helping make dinner, the top of the salt shaker popped off and spilled all over that night's dinner. The salt container was huge and was probably older than the building itself. It was bound to break eventually, but as luck would have it, it waited for Jack. Could still remember staring at the heaping pile of white powder, dropping the salt shaker, and desperately scooping handfuls of it off. No matter what he did, nothing could have stopped the stew's destruction. It only took one bite from the cook to know he was as good as dead. After that fiasco, he was banned from the kitchen.

In this week alone he'd accidentally managed to flood the bathroom sinks, catch a tablecloth on fire, and fall out of a window. Yep clumsy.

If he wasn't causing havoc, Jack's day-to-day consisted of waking up, breakfast, jobs, chores, and then dinner. It went on for years, the same dull thing over and over. Weeks blurred together, and Jack was just... there. He wasn't doing anything, just waiting, hoping for some escape from the wretched place.

Until the new kid arrived.

No one knew anything about him except his name and that he'd come from somewhere near the River Thames. The river went right through the heart of London, and from what Jack could tell, there weren't any orphanages there. Even the director, the head of Gregory's staff, had yet to learn how or why the kid transferred.

The boy looked about fifteen, with a good height and lightning-blue eyes. He was at least a foot taller than Jack, and his hair was jet-black. The tips were frosted with a silvery-white tone, creating an eye-catching contrast. No one in London dyed their hair, especially people his age, but he carried himself with a confidence that only added to his charm. People whispered about him for a long time trying to figure out who he was, but slowly, like everyone else, he faded away. Everything went back to normal, and Jack ignored him.

One particular day, Jack was on laundry duty. His one and only job was to take the dirty clothes from the fourth floor down to the laundries. It was going great until he reached the stairs.

One by one, he pulled the massive cart down the steps, each making a big 'Cuthunk!' The stairs were so ancient it was a miracle they hadn't collapsed.

He was about ten steps down when the side of the cart got hooked on something. Jack almost fell over the top when it abruptly stopped. Confused, he looked over the side to see where it was stuck. The back wheel was lodged between the wall and the staircase. He tried to move it but didn't budge.

"I knew this would happen," He said through gritted teeth. He pushed harder, but nothing changed. "It always happens! Every single time!" He put all of his weight on it, driving his feet into the wall. "Oh Come ON!" He yelled.

Jack gave one last heave and then, 'CRACK!' His eyes went wide as the cart lurched forward. It barreled down the staircase grinding against the walls, filthy clothes flying everywhere. Before he knew it, he was crashing down with it. The world was still spinning when Jack made it to the bottom.

He just lay there for a while, trying to catch his breath. The fall from the fourth floor down to the second was brutal. He had hit every step at least three times. The light above him flickered as he finally saw the catastrophe that lay before him. There was a trail of laundry that led down the staircase. Clothes were scattered everywhere, and the cart he fell with was a complete wreck. It was missing most of its wheels and was very lopsided. The walls weren't in any better condition. The ones leading up the staircase had scuff marks scraped down them with dents decorating the yellowing paint.

That's when he noticed someone standing in the doorway.  

"Hey, are you okay?" the person asked.

Jack jumped in surprise.

"You about gave me a heart attack!" Jack yelped.  He rubbed his eyes and looked up, it was the new kid.

"Here, let me help you up. Are you alright?" The boy asked reaching out his hand.

"No... I think I bruised my everything," Jack groaned.