The clock struck three. The sun blazed outside. Children ran down the street for a game. The light in the room flickered.
But she didn't care.

"Scotlynn Reynolds."

Two black braids swung back and forth as two black, ripped up shoes graced the concrete floor. The last chime of the clock sounded as she approached the desk, her right hand clutching her locket. The gunmetal chain was comforting even with nothing to be comforted about. It rolled over her fingers easily,  and she swore it felt like fish scales; like the fish in the nursery downstairs. The locket itself was a slate heart; chipped and empty. She found it outside in the yard during a riveting game of War. Sgt. Eloise was just about to call an attack on the opposing forces when a glistening caught her regard. The locket lay in the grass; used yet untouched. Picking it up she noticed it was old, opening it she saw no picture. From the grass to her pocket and the game continued. Wearing it around her neck would arouse questions of obtainment, so she clenched it between her fingers whenever she could. Especially during those nasty English thunderstorms. Perhaps she clenched it now to feel the fish scales, the ones she wouldn't ever feel again.

There were no fish on her new floor.

A pile of papers was steadied in one hand while the other typed on the keyboard, eyes shifting from the screen to the girl with ease. From her tip toes Scotlynn could see over the desk where a chubby old woman sat. Her aging red hair was pulled up in a bun aside from a stray tendril and her glasses hung on a chain. A round nose stood against a round face just below two green and gentle eyes. The girl on her toes reached for the walnut nametag which said 'Miss Atkinson' in bold blue letters. Scotlynn didn't know that yet. The typing stopped. "Scotlynn Reynolds?" A pair of brown eyes gave the voice attention.

"I told you to call me Eloise."

"Your birth certificate says Scotlynn, dear. Have a seat, won't you?" The chair squeaked when she sat down, much like everything else in the building. Even Miss Atkinson squeaked when she ate too many pickles in mustard like at the annual summer picnic. Scotlynn giggled at the memory but quieted down when the woman looked her way. "Happy birthday, dear."

Scotlynn didn't answer.

"I said, happy birthday." The little girl sighed and swung her feet from the chair.

"Thanks I guess." The older woman's red lips smiled. A hand continued to type on the computer while the papers were set down. Picked back up, and set down again. There was an uncomfortable whirr in the first floor, one that Scotlynn couldn't find the source of. Normally she couldn't hear it but the near silence brought it out and drove her insane. A bee that just wouldn't go away or a whole swarm of locusts. Maybe a broken radiator. Whatever it was stirred an impatience in the girl and she shifted in the chair. It wobbled. Much like Miss Atkinson.

"Why the sad face? Aren't you excited?" the jolly woman asked. Scotlynn shrugged. "I should think you wanted to leave the nursery. After all the complaints of getting no sleep from the babies...changed your mind?"

"Where's my stuff gonna go?" The papers were picked up again.

"Oh don't worry, the assistant director will help move your belongings to your new room. They'll be safe with her I'm sure." Scotlynn wasn't.  "Have any special plans for your birthday?"

"Moon."

"What was that, dear?"

"The moon." Miss Atkinson adjusted her glasses.

"Well what about it?"

"That's where I'm going." She squeezed the locket. "I'm going to the moon as Captain Eloise of New York and I'm gonna be the first to discover Moon Bugs." A skeptical nod emitted from the woman at the desk. "They're real, you know."

"That sounds exciting," she answered squinting at the monitor. "And uh, will you be taking anything with you?"

"Nothing that makes the rocket too heavy, or I'll never get there." Miss Atkinson laughed.

"Better not take me with you then, huh?" A few more laughs. Scotlynn couldn't help the smile. "I can't guarantee your ticket to outer space, but I can get you the next closest choice. The third floor." The smile dropped. "Your room is bigger, no babies to keep you up at night. Doesn't that sound like a good deal?" No answer. "Then in nine more years you can go higher to the fourth floor. Like a real life space mission."

The little girl in the wobbly squeaky chair wouldn't give her company the slightest attention for fear that she might continue and jarr her plans. The moon was a far better idea than the fourth floor.

The orphanage was built like a dice, one side the foundation. The first floor occupied the first set of windows. That's where kids were checked in and out, and where Miss Atkinson lived. The second floor was for newborns and toddlers. When a child turned four, they were moved to the third floor, and finally the fourth when they turned thirteen. On a child's eighteenth birthday, a celebration of sorts was held on the roof. It signified the child's long awaited freedom from the facility, and thus was held on the highest level. Scotlynn was convinced that the highest one could go to was the moon, and wanted no more than to celebrate her freedom there. To be the highest there ever was sounded like a much better deal.

"You'll even be going to school in a year. That's great!" Not to Scotlynn. She'd heard stories about the school. It was a separate part of the building, and was run by the head directors of the older children. Rumors were that it was held in the basement and that you were served chicken legs with the feathers and all still attached. It made her sick to think of it. Penny Keyson said she witnessed firsthand a student eat a chicken bone in her soup and choke to death. Scotlynn shivered. Choking was her worst fear.

Her grip on the locket tightened.

A voice called over her. "What?" she asked.

"What's that in your hand, dear?" Scotlynn looked down at the locket in her palm. The chain glittered from the light above her and she thought of shiny fish scales. "Come on, let's see it." Slowly her feet touched the floor and made their way to the desk and outstretched hand. The locket folded into the wrinkled palm and was observed over the glasses. "Where did you find this?"

"In the grass outside. It had been there a while, I think," Scotlynn answered. Miss Atkinson didn't answer. "It's empty." Still no answer. "It's empty," the girl tried again. The locket was returned to her a second later.

"I assume you didn't steal it then?" Scotlynn shook her head.

"No! I just found it, honest." The typing continued.

"Let's hope so. It's a pretty little thing, I could imagine one of the older girls losing it...did you ask anyone if it belonged to them?"

"Well, not exactly. But no one was asking about it so I kept it." Miss Atkinson nodded.

"Alright then."

"You'll let me keep it?"

"If holding onto it keeps you from fiddling with my nametag," the older woman smiled. Scotlynn clutched it with two hands this time. "Would you like room two or room seven?"

"Five."

"Room five is taken, Scotlynn. We have room two and seven open."

Scotlynn didn't answer.

"Room two or seven? Room seven has a bigger window, I think. And a closet. Does that sound good?" The little girl finally nodded. "Alright, room seven it is." A buzzing noise came from a square box with a slot through the top. A piece of paper popped out, like a weasel in a mulberry bush. "Here you go. There's your floor and room number so you won't forget. Your belongings should all be set up by tomorrow, I'll send them up first thing." The piece of paper was handed off to Scotlynn who made room in her left hand to grab it. "Good luck, and happy birthday."

The hallway was quiet as most of the children were outside playing in the last of the summer sunshine. It was September 14th, and school would be in a week. The chicken legs would be ready soon, feathers and all. She wondered where they kept them. One seven year old girl named Jimmie Bean-her real name was Jamie, but the other children always called her Jimmie as a misunderstanding of vowels-was walking in the hallway with a rubber band and a stamp to America in her hand. The locket Scotlynn held was hidden in her pocket for fear Jimmie might seek a trade. "You're new here," she stated bluntly. "You got a plane to catch or somethin'?" Scotlynn didn't laugh.

"It's my birthday."

"Oh, I see. So you live here now. I'm Jimmie." A dirty hand was held out to her, and she shook it hesitantly. "Sorry 'bout that, was jus' playin' tackle football with the girls. Got a bit out of hand you could say." 'The girls' was the name Jimmie gave to her batch of friends. A small batch, but more than Scotlynn had ever known. Jimmie shook her fuzzy brown hair out of her face and pretended to spit. "I've been practicin'. Soon 'nough I'll have a real wad."

"What's that?" A hand pointed to Jimmie's collectibles.

"This here's my newest addition. This is a genuine stamp from America. You know, north?" Scotlynn nodded. "I got 'em for a paperclip used to break the lock to the snack cabinet. What a steal!" Items like this were traded constantly among Jimmie and the girls. Even outsiders who had something of value once in a while. It was like a currency to them, and sometimes treasures were smuggled under the table at dinner time. They were called, 'dinner time finds'. "I'll bet you got nothin' like this in your pockets, no sir!"

Scotlynn walked past Jimmie in hopes of finding her room. "Wait a second!" She turned around. "What room you stayin' in?"

"Seven."

"Seven? Don't you know that one's haunted?" Scotlynn blanched.

"No it isn't."

"Is too. Want to know how I know?" Scotlynn stood still. "The last girl who lived there heard noises outside her window each night. One day she pulled back the curtain and poof! She was gone. Never seen again. That's how I know." Jimmie left without another word. Scotlynn stood there, pulling out her locket and gripped the heart, sliding the chain across her fingers. Like fish scales when the fish were swimming.

There were no fish on this floor.

When Scotlynn entered her room, she sneezed. This room hadn't been occupied in a long time and she was nervous it might be someone's ashes when they died that made her sneeze. If what Jimmie said was true, this room could very well be haunted. The walls were ghost white. A black lamp stood on a black table, the cord hanging limply at its side. The window was big as Miss Atkinson had said, and Scotlynn could see the school yard. Her bed was simply a frame and mattress now, but a few spare blankets were kept in the closet. Miss Atkinson was right about that too. It wasn't the moon, but sure had strange creatures like Jimmie to visit.

Scotlynn noticed the bookshelf in the corner next to the bed. It would be the perfect place to put her favorite book series, Eloise. A couple copies were kept in the nursery and she loved it when her teacher would read them to her. As a surprise on her third birthday, she was given her own set. Of course she couldn't read them yet, but she remembered every detail. That book collection was worth more than any dinner time find.

The girl opened the drawers of the dresser, hoping to find some form of currency she could use to gain acceptance from her new neighbors. A hairbrush handle, a shoelace, a pencil, a pack of gum-empty, a charred match, and empty cans of olives was all she found. They were handled with caution as bugs sometimes liked to make their homes in funny places. Nothing she found seemed good enough to trade with, and she supposed she could conjure up some tell tale story to make them seem better. But she got an idea even greater.

She poked the pencil through the bottom of two olive cans and pulled the shoelace through. They were small enough to hold them in place. One can was held to her ear while the other was brought to her lips. "Hello, this is Miss Atkinson. Lunch? Why we have a whole barn out back filled with chickens."

"This is Eloise of New York, how may I help you? The moon? I would love to go, but I have to be home in time for dinner."

Her fantasy was broken apart by a strange noise outside her bedroom. The cans clattered on the floor as she remembered what Jimmie had told her. Though it wasn't night yet, she wasn't taking any chances of letting herself disappear. Slowly she inched her way to the window with the blue curtain, and peered outside. There stood a man, about twenty yards away from the building. He leaned against a tree just outside the gate of the yard, holding something between his teeth. Scotlynn could see it was a cigarette. There were rules against smoking in the building, but she didn't know if the rules were the same outside.

His hair was wild and brown; almost a black. His face was hard to see from the distance, and the window was smeared with dirt. Opening it might gain his attention and Scotlynn didn't want to disappear. If he could make that happen. The yard was empty; the children had been called inside for dinner. Eating and trading would take place, and Scotlynn wasn't one to miss out on action. Placing the curtain back, she edged away from the window and headed to the mess hall to eat.