My mind was blank as I stared dumbly at the smooth dark oak door. After that conversation, I had felt numb. Like I was drifting through a sea of mud. I honestly felt as though I would puke all over Saint John's Pristine white tiles. Staining it in yellow and green.
I didn't bother trying to understand anything that was happening. Instead of going to a class where I knew no one. I asked the blonde girl, who hadn't actually left and instead chose to wait for me outside of the office, where the nurse's office. And for the rest of the day, I slept the world away.
As if by sleeping I could somehow wake up from a nightmare.
I woke up to the nurse telling me that school was over and it was time to go home. Only. . . I wasn't sure if I had a home to go back to. I felt like explaining this to the nurse would be a bad idea so instead, I told her that I had forgotten which bus I would be taking.
Luckily she was able to find me the right one before the buses left. I sat on the bus, a nervous ticking bomb. I didn't know where I would be dropped off, or where in America I was for that matter. It was only after the bus driver called out my name, did I realize that she intended to drop me off here.
At what looked to be an old graying building. As I stared at the intimidatingly sharp black gate I felt shocked at the label. 'Orphanage' sat in crystal clear font. Haunting me. 'This is so crazy!' I pondered if I should open it or not. But seeing no other choice besides wandering in an unknown area I found myself at the front door.
The blonde girl, who's name I had found out later was Trisha, had gone home with me. She had stuck to me like glue the entire day. She reached for my purse but I leaned away from her questioningly.
For once her cheerful expression dropped. "You have the key." She deadpanned. I searched through my purse only to pull out my house key. The only key that was available. As I handed it over to her palm I stared dumbly.
She twisted the key, and the click of the lock releasing was heard. How did my house key from Jamaica fit inside of this Orphanage in America? This doesn't make any sense!
"Hey, You can go inside, I'm just going to-Yeah," I said, as I slowly walked backward. I saw dozens of young faces staring back at me. Some looking towards me in concern, and all of them younger than I.
"Hey, You've been acting weird all day. Are you sure that you're okay?" Trisha asked.
I choose the simple way, nodding, not trusting my voice not to crack.
"Alright, but are you sure you want to walk dressed like that?"
She was right of course. I was dressed semi-formally. My white dress shirt and black sweatpants would make for a sight if I were to walk down the streets. Not to mention that I wore dress shoes as if I had just come out of an 80's rom-con.
I shook my head. I didn't want to wear a stranger's clothes, nor did I want help form Trisha, but after being in her company all day, I felt as though I could trust her not to murder me.
I was unsure of myself. But I decided to trust my instincts. As Trisha lead me through the orphanage I took note that it wasn't as deary or as horrible as I had thought it would be. The stereotypes of Orphanages being horrible places like in Oliver Twist wasn't as true as it would seem.
She led me to a single bedroom and inside were four bunk beds. When she left I was left to my best guess of which one would 'hold my clothing'. As I went through each drawer I had a creeping feeling go down my spine. As if I were stealing and I didn't want to get caught, but I could only gasp as in a single drawer there were clothes that belonged to, well me.
These weren't duplicates or something that a stranger would wear. 'Just who is this Olympia?' I questioned as I pulled out my favorite T-Shirt. It was a shirt that I wore on my last Halloween. The ribcage of a skeleton sticking out. Putting on brown shorts and stealing a pair of black and white converse I carefully slipped on my green purse.
I took note of the shoes in this room. Each was smaller than the last, and there were dozens and dozens piled up in a small corner. 'Are these the shoes of orphans that have moved on?'
As I sat on one of the bunk beds I ignored reality and instead chose to focus on fiction. 'Why would Professor X offer me a scholarship to his school in the middle of the year? It's clear to me that I'm an orphan. Does that mean that I should accept what has to be the cheaper option?'
I ran out of the orphanage before anyone could say a word, making sure to grab the keys form the dark oak door and slipping it into one of my many pockets.
I didn't understand where I was running or even where I was going. And I was too far away to remember that I didn't know the orphanage's name and I didn't think that I would be able to retrace my steps after only being there once.
By the time I remembered these crucial details I was lost.
"Great," I muttered to myself, making sure that I was speaking at a lower volume in case someone decided to look my way. "I'm trapped with crazy people, no way home. I went through a shimmering portal thing and went to a place with apparently no place to sleep."
"Think positive," I said, practicing my breathing. "If I'm in America that means that there are public libraries right? I can research this stuff, and maybe find a way home."
That reminded me, I had my phone, right? The phone that I usually brought to school was my android. A simple place holder from my cousin Jordan. It was just in case I needed to call my mom. I use my dad's phone too, his iPhone. But I didn't want to bring it to school in case it ever got stolen.
There were days that I risked it.
But unfortunately, today hadn't been that day. I turned on my phone, 31 percent battery life. It wasn't much that I could do besides turning it into low power mode and power if off. I didn't bring my charger with me so this was the best chance that I had.
My fingers glanced at the screen as I dialed my mom's phone number. A number that all of her other 3 children had learned by heart in case we ever needed to contact the police.
"Mommy?" I said as I placed the phone next to my ear. My spine was ice as unsettling breathing filled the phone. It wasn't my mother's breathing. After sleeping in the same bed with her in the only air-conditioned room in the house for a year I knew what her breathing sounded like.
This was a stranger. I quickly hung up.
'That was creepy' I thought to myself. 'Let's not do that again'
It was only by the time that I had reached the library did I realize that tears were streaming down my face. I ignored them and wiped them away. This was no time to be emotional, I needed to figure out where the heck I was.
I walked into the library, ready to hop onto a nearby computer. It wasn't the biggest or best library that I had been to but it was good enough. It was only when I sat down staring blankly at the screen when I realized that I had a problem.
I needed a library card.
It's been so long since I've gone to a public library that I've forgotten how security crazy and money crazy the libraries were in the US. To use the computers you had to get a library card, that you have to pay for with money, and you have a time limit.
I slid out of the seat regretfully and watched as a skinny kid jumped into my place, logging on without a second thought.
The receptionist was a pretty woman. She wasn't that old and while young wrinkles littered her face. Her hair was honey-comb blonde.
"Hello Miss, um, can I please get a library card. I think I lost mine," I lied and she looked down at me.
"Yes, that would be a dollar 15 plus tax. Do you live in the area?"
"No, this is my first time in town," I answered.
"Where are you from?"
I dug into my purse, before thinking better, "Do you have change for 500?"
She pursed her lips in suspicion.
"My dad's an actor, you've probably seen him in some commercials," I added hastily.
I surprisingly got the card without too much of a hassle. A couple of believable lies and such about where I lived. Apparently, it's believable that my 'dad' was an 'actor' considering CT is supposed to be one of the richest states.
There's that common stereotype that if you live in CT you are rich. Something that's traveled to New York. Which was apparently the state that I was in. It's a good thing that she hadn't asked for his name. She wouldn't have recognized him anyways, he was small-time, I waved her off. After a few chats with the receptionist, I was off.
Librarians have always liked me.
I resisted the urge to shove the skinny kid out of my seat, but instead, I just took the seat opposite of him. I couldn't have him be nosy and try to look at my screen.
I tried to unsuccessfully log in to my Gmail accounts. I couldn't and it didn't seem like any of them worked. Out of all 5 of them, nothing happened. Not even the oldest one, the one I had set up in 2016.
I tried my mom's old cleaning company, the new paper that my dad used to work at. Patrick Stewart didn't seem to exist which was crazy because I had just met him and he was super famous.
Star Trek was gone, and so was Logan. I even tried XMEN but the only thing that came up was websites that were blocked by the library. Blue screens that warned me that it was a bad site. It was weird but not impossible to think that maybe Google had glitched out.
Only when I searched for today's date. Something I did regularly as I was bad with dates in general something else came up.
T-The year. . . The year was 2004. The year that I had been born.
Time and time again after every search. I've tried explorer, Firefox, Chrome. They all told me one thing.
It was not 2019 anymore.
'What the fuck?' I thought as my hands dragged on my face. 'Maybe if I look away the letters will somehow change' but they didn't. The truth was in front of me and I had to accept that.
That strange shimmering. Patrick Stewert. Maybe he hadn't debuted as an actor yet. I thought, maybe that's why his name isn't popping up. Star Trek didn't hit it off until 2006 right? I don't know, I've never watched it!
Did I somehow. . . Travel back in time?