Chapter 2: Tasty Porridge

Chapter 2: Tasty Porridge

After another twenty minutes of scrubbing, I gave up and decided I needed to find some bleach or hydrogen peroxide. I was fairly certain Miss Havasu had access to cleaning supplies. I’d have to ask her in the morning.

You have gained 100 experience points.

What was that? I shrugged it off and headed toward my bedroom. On the way back, I Analyzed everything along the way.

Worn Rug Owned by: Havasu

Simple Lamp Owned by: Havasu

Rickety Foyer Table Owned by: Havasu This item can be repaired with wood glue or simple nails.

The table gave me pause. I’d already been dwelling on the fact that everything belonged to Miss Havasu. I had assumed that it belonged to the government or whoever funded the orphanage. Perhaps possession really was nine-tenths of the law. As for repairing the table, even with the necessary materials, I wasn’t confident I could repair it. It didn’t matter at the moment because I had neither of the requested ingredients. Besides, who cares if this old table wobbles? It’s not like it’s used for anything except a hall light. Satisfied with my evaluation, I continued to the room. Several of the younger boys and girls huddled in the corner near the window at the end of the hall. Mustering the strictest look I could, I marched over to them. “Shouldn’t you all be in bed?” “Can you tell us a story?” Carol asked. I was positive she was designated to ask this question because I’d let slip she looked like Grace. The tiny brunette was around ten years old with a face full of freckles and long dark brown hair that she always kept braided. The older girls did this because she always got it tangled in knots when she had it down. Beth, the oldest girl in the orphanage, threatened to put it in a bun if she wasn’t more careful with it. Heaving a sigh, I took the offered seat of honor right next to the window. “Fine, but just one story.’ I tried my best to get through the story as fast as possible. It was a nighttime ritual that I usually enjoyed but this time I had other things to think about. The ability to Analyze things was far too interesting to not investigate. I decided to work my newfound skill on the only things around, the other Orphans.

Beth Gibbler Class: Orphan Level: 1 Age: 15 Weight: 93 Lbs Height 5’4

It was the same as me. The same description popped up when I examined myself. Was that all that was possible when I looked at a person, and why was she an Orphan? Did that define her or something? I looked deeper, trying to learn more.

Beth Gibbler Maladies: Malnourished, Lice, Lower Ankle Sprain

I knew it! She’d been hiding a limp for the better part of a week. The other maladies were hardly a secret. We all had lice and went to bed hungry. It was no secret that orphans were different. We all saw the plump rich kids with their families. Of course, that was starting to change with more and more families losing everything as one bank after another went belly up “Why did you stop?” Carole asked, her voice shaking me out of my thoughts. “What?” I asked, looking down at her. “The story,” she explained. “You weren’t finished yet.” A boy about my age named Jack pointed an accusing finger at me. “Oliver has a crush on Beth. He was staring at her.” My attention went back to Beth whose face was becoming so red it started to match her hair. She turned away as we made eye contact. I took a deep breath and continued the story. “Ahem, where was I? Oh, yes, the young maiden remembered her promise and was forced to flee, leaving behind a bewildered prince and a single glass slipper…” It was fortunate that I had such a good memory that I was able to recite bedtime stories while thinking about other things. It was one of the reasons I was popular with the other kids at the orphanage. I couldn’t get my new skill out of my head. There was a world of things I wanted to Analyze and I wanted to drop everything to get started. “One more!” The kids chanted after I wrapped up the first story. It was a ritual they perfumed every night. Usually, I gave in but not this time. This time, I wanted to wake up early. “Sorry guys,” I’m too tired. “You just want to dream about Beth,” Jack said. “Look! They’re both blushing.” “Enough!” Beth said in her Mom-tone. It was a tone that none of the smaller children dared disobey. By the sheer fact that she was older than everyone, she commanded a certain amount of authority. “Get to bed, all of you. I want to have a word with Oliver.” “You want to kiss him!” Jack blurted, though he was already on his way to the bedroom. The other boys followed while the girls made their way to the stairwell. Their bedrooms were on the second floor. Once we were alone, Beth looked me over. “Are you feeling okay, Oliver? “Yeah,” I replied. It was odd talking to Beth alone. She never singled me out even though she enjoyed my stories too. She had a serious look on her face as though she was puzzling something out. “Something changed about you, and I think I know what it is. Tell me, Oliver. There’s no need to be ashamed but do you have a crush on me?” “No!” I stammered, feeling cornered by the older girl who stood between me and the door to the room. “Why would you think that?” “Well, I just…” she was getting flustered as well. “It was the look you had on your face earlier. Is it one of the other girls?” “No! I don’t like any of the other girls,” I said, realizing my denial was a little forced. It was true I’d recently begun noticing girls and how pleasant they were to look at but I wasn’t about to admit that. Least of all to a girl. She sighed. “Well, there’s definitely something going on with you. Are you feeling well?” “Your ankle!” I exclaimed as loud as I dared. People were sleeping and I didn’t want Miss Havasu to come out, or Gordon for that matter. “You said you were fine when you fell the other day. Why didn’t you tell us you sprained it? I could have helped with your chores.” She waved me off. “Never you mind about that. I’m fine. Something like this won’t keep me down. Besides, you know I need to work.” The truth was, we all needed to work. Every orphan had assigned tasks to do every day, even the little ones. It was part of the way the orphanage ran. Sure, we could survive without the extra income but we wouldn’t be able to afford fancy things like meat or heat. Miss Havasu worked as a seamstress but that was only part-time since she needed to run the orphanage too. “Go get some sleep,” she said when I didn’t immediately reply. “Tomorrow is another day.” Falling asleep was easier said than done. I shuffled off to the bedroom. It was a long room lined with beds that I shared with all the boys in the orphanage. The moment I entered the room, the snickering started. Several kids began chantings a rhyme about my theoretical love life while others straight out applauded for me. I kept my head down and tried to ignore them as I kicked off my shoes and disrobed before sliding into bed. Pajamas weren’t something we owned at an orphanage. Not when shorts and a tee-shirt would suffice. I slipped into bed and tried to zone everybody out so I could sleep. The problem wasn’t the other kids though even in the darkness, my Analyze skill wanted to work. I closed my eyes and made a mental inventory of all the glorious things I was going to inspect. Tomorrow couldn’t get there soon enough.

As anxious as I was to get to sleep, I didn’t want to get up when the morning bell rang. I burrowed my head under the pillow and tried to drown out the bustle of movement around me. There was a nagging feeling that I was forgetting something. I knew that oversleeping wasn’t good. There would be no hot water left in the shower. If I slept in too long, there would be no porridge left at breakfast either. Then I’d end up having to fill up on stale bread. That was never fun. However, that wasn’t it. Something was nagging at the back of my mind. My eyes flashed open. Thats right! I glanced around the room. Empty. That figures. Everyone was gone. I pushed the blankets back and sat up, looking for something to Analyze. Not finding anything but a room full of empty disheveled beds, I walked over to a window. From the third floor, I was able to see the street far below. At just after five AM, it was still a little early but people were milling about down there. I tried to focus my attention and Analyze some of them but accomplished nothing but making myself dizzy. Giving up, I stepped into the hall and cast a glance over at the long line for the bathroom. Breakfast first then. I hoofed it down three flights of stairs to the dining hall. Just like with the bathroom, I was late and the line had already formed. Unlike the bathroom, this line consisted of both boys and girls. Elisa, one of Miss Havasu’s helpers stood next to a large pot, ladling porridge into bowls as the kids passed by. I scooped up a bowl and fell into line. “Good morning, Oliver,” Elisa chirped as she ladled the bland-looking sludge into my bowl. She was always so upbeat that it put me in a good mood. If I was going to have a crush on anyone, it would undoubtedly be her. “G’mornin, Elisa. I trust you slept well?” “I did,” she replied, flashing me a smile. “Thanks for asking.” I sat in the middle of a long table across from Beth who raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She looked back and forth between me and Elisa. I don’t know why she bothered though. Elisa was twenty which was way too old to be interested in me. Trying to shift my attention to something else, I focused my attention on the porridge.

Unseasoned Undercooked Porridge Grade: F Created by Havasu

That wasn’t good enough, so I continued to stare at my food.

Flaw: Undercooked Apply medium heat for 5 additional minutes.

Flaw: Unseasoned Apply sweetener for flavor

Available Ingredients Sugar Honey Maple Syrup Banana Strawberry Cherry

I stared at the suggestions. There was no way I could get away with going into the kitchen with just my bowl of porridge and asking if I could reheat it. The same went for offering to reheat the entire pot. Miss Havasu would think I was insane. Elisa wouldn’t go for it either because she didn’t want to get on the directress’s bad side. That left sweetening. As orphans, we weren’t allowed in the sugar. That was reserved for special occasions like birthdays and holidays. The maple syrup was for pancake day, so I’d probably have to fight to get my hands on that. That left honey. We used it so little, I didn’t know we had any. I got up from my chair and walked toward the kitchen. “Where are you going?” Elisa asked, stopping me in my tracks. I shrugged, trying to appear natural. “I’m, um, just looking for something to put in the porridge.” She sighed. “I don’t think we have anything but you’re welcome to check. Just stay out of the sugar, okay?” “I know,” I muttered, walking into the kitchen. Fortunately, Miss Havasu wasn’t there. She hated it when we milled around when she was working. Honey, where would you be? I saw a bowl of fruit out on the counter. I didn’t even consider that as there wasn’t enough for everyone and taking a banana out would just get me in trouble. Those were reserved for lunchtime snacks. I found it in the third cabinet I checked, a tiny glass jar filled with sticky golden syrup. I scooped it up and made my way back to the dining room. Most of the other kids ignored me, but not Beth. She watched me with mild interest as I struggle with the lid of the jar. One thing I severely lacked was strength. While I had plenty of endurance from hours of countless chores, my scrawny frame wasn’t designed for heavy lifting. Or glass jars for that matter. I fought with it for a few minutes before Beth took pity on me. “Hand it over.” My ears burned and I felt like a little kid as I slid her the jar. She stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth and wrapped the bottom of her dress around the lid as she scrunched up her face in concentration. For a moment, I thought she wasn’t going to manage but then she grunted, and the lid popped off. “There, what did you need this for?” I took the offered jar and dipped my spoon into it.

Honey Use half a spoonful for one bowl of Porridge

Glaring at the message, I spilled half a spoonful back into the jar before stirring the rest into my bowl. “I thought this might make it taste better.” “Fat chance of that happening,” she grumbled, but she dipped her spoon into the honey. Unlike me, she used a full spoon. I tasted the porridge, and while it wasn’t perfect, the honey did make it much more enjoyable. Beth did the same and crinkled her nose in disgust. “I don’t know, Oliver…” I laughed. “You used way too much honey and you’d already eaten half your bowl. Here, try mine.” Beth blinked at me as I slid my bowl across to her. After looking around at the other kids, who were watching in rapt attention, she dug her spoon into my bowl. Her eyes lit up the moment the porridge hit her tongue. After savoring it for a moment, she said, “It’s delicious!” “Ew, that was an indirect kiss!” One of the younger girls said. However, the other kids were more interested in the tiny jar of honey. “I want some!” “Can I try?” “Will you put some in my bowl?” The next thing I knew, there was a line of children.

You have gained 100 experience points.