Danny in Paradise: The First Circle

Introduction:

Dear Reader. I write this in a hope that I may discourage some of you from continuing. I know this seems weird, as an author and his …let’s call him my proof-reader (Edit: I do more than just proofread ;) …See! I can do winkies too ~ Opie) should want everyone, everywhere to buy their books and love them with the same vigour and tenacity that they were written with.

But consider this the literary version of the grizzled and garish townsfolk who point to yonder castle and warn to “Abandon every hope, you who enter”.

The story beyond this page chronicles bad behaviour, poor choices and school. It captures brief moments of true joy and happiness, but they will ultimately be overshadowed by the glimpse of pure, unadulterated EVIL we witnessed when researching this book.

Dear Reader…consider yourself warned.

Mr M. D. Nicodemus (Author)

Opie: Proof-reader (Edit: Shouldn’t my name be bigger? Not even a Mr.? And did I get demoted as some stage from Editor to Proof-reader? What’s Happening!? ~ Opie)

Chapter 1: In which we meet our hero and learn his back story.

They say that “time flies when you’re having fun”. But the opposite of that quip isn’t exactly true, Dear Reader. Time doesn’t stop when you’re having a bad time. It just tends to drag its feet and pauses to watch clouds pass by. If a bad time were a person, they may well just be that person in front of you at the grocery store who has 20 items in the Express Lane, who forgets one thing and politely asks to push past you to get it, then pays for it with small change from their decaying purse or wallet. A bad time dawdles when you need it to sprint.

All of these thoughts and many more flung themselves around Danny’s head as he continued to push back into the strangely uncomfortable seats in the back of the White’s van. The Whites were…nice. They were wholesome and kind and all those things you wished parents would be. Except they were not Danny’s parents. They were his foster parents. To be exact they were his Short Term, Court Appointed Legal Guardians.

“Not far now, Love’. Are you sure you don’t want another sandwich or a piece of fruit?” chirped Mrs. White.

“No...” muttered Danny. “Thanks” he added as an afterthought. He pushed a veil of unruly brown hair out of his eyes and returned to his “game” of trying to disappear into the van’s bench-like seats.

They say that married couple start to look alike after many years. The Whites could have been twins. Except for the haircuts, and Mr. White’s majestic moustache, they could have been the same person. So much, in fact, that when Danny had first gone to live with them, he had been startled a few times and had to make a point of catching them together in the same room at the same time, just to ease his growing concerns.

Both of the Whites were large people. They enjoyed their meals, and their snacks, and their elevenses, and their supper. But that extra weight they both carried made them even more approachable, less scary…huggable, for lack of a better term.

Mr and Mrs White both sported rosy cheeks and the slightly bloated nose you may associate with garden gnomes. Mr White had a tendency to dress like a lumberjack with heavy boots and checkered shirts, but this was all diffused by the sprawling smile he wore consistently. His smile was so enormous and brimming with cheer that it managed to pierce out from behind the greying forest that nestled under his nose like a hairy banana.

Mrs White was someone you could look at and just think “she loves to cook”. And she did. She was an amazing cook who fed anyone and everyone who just happened to be in the house at meal times (Edit: and morning tea, afternoon tea, elevenses and supper. These are all important meals of the day according to the Whites ~ Opie). She was large, like Mr White, but was also deceivingly graceful and light-footed for a lady of her… (Edit: *cough* ~ Opie) vastness. But unlike Mr White’s smile, her cheer, nay, bliss, was all in her eyes. Sure, she smiled, a lot, but her eyes just gleamed with joy. It was as if every good deed, every happy moment and every act of kindness she had done or witnessed was remembered and then bursting out again through her eyes. Blue and round, you couldn’t look at her without being drawn to stare into those pools of radiating joy. And you couldn’t help but share in some of that happiness.

The White’s may well have been the nicest people in the world.

Danny had already decided that they were the certainly the nicest people in Australia and he was certain that they were the nicest and most wonderfully kind people he had ever met, not that he had met many people, especially kind people. It had been well into Danny’s life before he even met someone who he would assign the title “Nice” too.

“I may not even be the best judge of Nice” thought Danny, and he went back to his myriad of other thoughts that plagued him.

“You know, little mate…I think you’ll do just fine at this new school” gruffed Mr White. Mr White was a man of the Australian bush. His words were few but he said what he meant and meant what he said.

“…I guess…” murmured Danny, but he knew that their view of his on-coming predicament was tarnished by their shiny, rose-coloured view of the world.

The White’s, Dear Reader, had no children of their own, nor could they, which kind of explains how Danny came to be associated with them. As they couldn’t have children of their own to share their kindness and overall niceness with, they opened their house and their lives to children who needed a home. The White’s had been foster parents for almost thirty years and in that time their humble farmhouse in outback Australia had seen almost one thousand children through its doors. Photos of every baby, child and teenager who had lived with the Whites plastered the walls of the White’s house. Originally only in the living room, the framed pictures filled the walls throughout the farmhouse. And every picture contained a photo, a name label and a pair of dates. Danny had originally scoffed and joked to himself that they were collecting future Mug Shots, but he later came to realise that they were in fact mementos of success. Briefly after his short time with the White’s had started, Mrs White began pointing to frames and reminiscing about the photos subject. “That’s our Jimmy. He works as a truck driver for the mines in Coober Pedy now…much better that than flogging cars” she would say. “Oh Bless! That one is our Pricilla. She has her own foster home near Newcastle now, bless her”.

It was around this time that Danny started to think he may be their first failure.

The judge had been as understanding and reasonable as Danny could have ever expected. But he didn’t have much choice. “Disgrace”, “Unconscionably misbehaved” and “parents are obviously to blame” had been tossed around the courtroom by an almost unending stream of teachers, counsellors, child psychologists and even one unfortunate neighbour, Mrs Chism, whose cat had borne the brunt of Danny’s terrible twos (Edit: Good thing cats can’t give evidence ~ Opie). There had been some small glimmers of light amongst the avalanche of Danny’s veritable sins. Many of his teachers had mentioned “untapped intelligence” and “wasted potential” which really didn’t surprise Danny. He had stopped liking school around the same time that he realised that he was most likely smarter than his teachers.

The court had gone through the regular things. His age, (Edit: eleven, going on middle aged. ~ Opie), His education (Edit: Complicated ~ Opie) and his … (Edit: *Cough* ~ Opie) indiscretions.

After reading every document, listening carefully to every witness and seeking advice from experts in child psychology and law regarding minors, the judge asked just one question.

“Where are the parents?”.

It wasn’t even a question directed to Danny, and it was more than just a simple question. It was a question, a statement, an excuse and a cruel verbal slap all wrapped into four simple words. The court appointed legal representative (Edit: Danny called him Lucky Number 13…as in the thirteenth one assigned to him ~ Opie) frantically flipped through one of the countless fading folders that made up Danny’s legal documentation.

“None” blurted Lucky Number 13. Papers escaped and flew from his grasp as he continued to dig into his folders in an futile effort at not looking up to face the judge.

Danny put his head down on the table in an attempt to avoid some of the oncoming barrage of glares. He already knew what he would see. Most eyes would be glassed over with prejudgement. A few others would glimmer with attempted sympathy. He really didn’t want to see either.

“What? Dead?” said the judge, with almost no emotion in his voice.

Lucky Number 13 snatched a rogue page from the pinnacle of its arc above the desk and scanned down it.

“No, Your Honor, none, as in never had any. No Mum or Dad, no siblings, no grandparents, no aunts or uncles. He was found on the step of St Mary’s Hospital in Bathurst. Was adopted out…but they…um…couldn’t keep him. Then there is a swag full of foster homes, homes for children…even a short time in a juvenile detention centre…um…”.

Lucky Number 13 words dwindled away. He could have kept going but the picture had been painted.

“I see no other way”. Said the judge.

“Amazing”, Danny noticed. ”Not a shred of emotion in his voice. How does he do that?” Danny was genuinely impressed at the coldness of the old judge.

“Paradiso: School for the Lost. Good Day.”

The judge was out of his seat before he has blurted out the final word and was gone in a swirl of billowing black robes before realization of what he had said dawned across the room. But even once the courtroom had caught up, it remained silent.

“I hear they have a wonderful arts program, Love. And I bet they play lots of sports” beamed Mrs White.

Danny was yanked back to reality, and had to shake off those memories with a fierce shiver.

“…I guess…” he muttered.

Danny doubted that the school would be any different to the countless others he had attended. Every school had been sprouted as a “new start” or “a wonderful opportunity”. And every one had been nothing short of a disaster.

“You can stop guessing” Mr White uttered flatly. “We’re here.”

Chapter 2: In which the White’s say goodbye and the walls eat stuff.

Dear Reader, to describe the wall that surrounded Paradiso as gigantic makes large and massive things feel happy for being mentioned in the same sentence. The wall was originally built from odd shaped rocks and ascended to disappear into low hanging clouds. Over the years the wall had collected an eclectic menagerie of objects. Danny squinted through the quickly dimming light and was somewhat surprised to spot the cane basket of a hot air balloon many metres from the ground. It appeared that the basket was being slowly swallowed into the wall, giving the wall an even more menacing façade.

“Paradiso? Parraaadiiisooo…” tested Mrs White. “That’s Italian for Paradise, Love. It bet it will be fancy…once we get inside.” She was hiding it well, but Danny noted the tiny hints of nervousness and doubt in Mrs White’s normally merry voice.

Danny peered upward in a futile attempt to catch a glimpse at the top of the walls. He did a small double take when he thought he spotted snow gathering on one of the visible gatehouses. “Wah? Snow in the middle of Australia” thought Danny, but when he turned for a better look, clouds once again obscured his view.

After what seemed like an eternity of following the wall, and many comments from Mrs White regarding the quickly changing weather (Edit: Still amazingly polite, mind you. Honestly, who can possibly be nice about lousy weather?  ~ Opie), the van slowed and finally stopped before a portcullis…a cut-out of the looming walls. The portcullis itself could have happily graced the front of Dracula’s Castle…or at least a reasonable knock-off of a clichéd spooky castle.

“Well…they should be expecting us” rumbled Mr White.

And as if the gate itself was listening, it let out a harsh grinding sound and began to open.

Danny’s heart jumped for the first real time since his being in the courtroom. Paradiso had a reputation…a reputation for taking and educating children and teenagers who had come to the end of their chances. If you believed the “word of the street” (Edit: And who doesn’t? Best news service out there ~ Opie) Paradiso took any child or teenager, no matter where they had come from or what they had done. Not a lot was said about those students who graduate.

The portcullis gate continued to slowly rise.

“Okay Danny. No time like the present to think yourself out off this. Annnndddd…Go!” Danny’s brain raced. Then is stumbled and got a small running stitch. Then it quit and went back to staring out the window.

Danny flipped his perspective, more out of necessity than actual choice.

“How bad can it be?”

Those simple words would haunt Danny for a very long time.

The gate had finally reached the top of the portcullis and Mr White broke the spell by releasing the brake and creeping his van forward. The momentum was short-lived as the van spluttered, complained and unceremoniously stalled.

“Only the boy.”

The ethereal voice seemed to emanate from the wall itself. It hung in the air like the clouds that continued to conceal the top of the wall.

Mrs White gave Mr White a concerned look. Danny watched as they seemed to have a short but alarmed conversation using only their facial expressions. Danny knew the outcome as Mrs White clutched her handbag tightly on her lap. He could see that her hands were gripping so tightly that her knuckles were white and her fingernails dug into colourful handbag’s fabric. (Edit: I dig this lady. We should have done a book about her. ~ Opie)

Mr White slumped a little, and then began to undo his seatbelt.

“Only the boy.”

The voice was closer now but it still maintained an airy feel.

The words caused Mr White to pause, but only for a fraction of a second.

“We are here to…” started Mr White, but he was interrupted.

“Only the boy”. The words were a hiss now. Not angry, but impatient and certainly a voice that was used to giving orders.

Mr White slumped again. He turned in his seat to look at Danny. His face was grey with worry. Danny felt bad for him. He liked the White’s, and he knew that Mr White was a strong, proud man. But right now, Danny needed to be strong.

“Danny, my boy” Mr White began, but this time Danny cut him off.

“You have been kind to me, even though I may not deserve it. You cared for me and I thank you for it. I really hope I get to see you again some time.” Danny had practiced saying this in his head for a few days now. It didn’t sound rehearsed and he was doing a sterling job at beginning to convince himself that he believed the last bit might come true.

Danny began to unbuckle his seatbelt and gather his possessions when he was suddenly engulfed by a tearful Mrs White. She had stealthily undone her seatbelt and managed to embrace Danny without completely leaving her own seat. She held him tightly, sniffling away tears and rocking him gently.

Finally she relaxed enough for Danny to untangle himself.

Before he could exit the van, she caught his hand. She locked her reddening eyes with his. Tears still welled in the corners.

‘You’re a good boy, Love. A good, smart boy. We know you’ve done things, and we know that being a kid can be hard sometimes. The way we see it, you’ve never had anyone really care for you, and you’ve never had anyone to care for. Those are the folk you need to be with and who need you too, Love”.

Danny’s hand slipped from hers and he climbed out of the van. Fog swirled around him as he swung his backpack onto his shoulder. The backpack contained all of his worldly possessions. He fought the urge to shiver and tightened his grip on his bag. Danny turned and faced the open mouth of the gate. He took a moment as he willed his feet to propel him forward…and failed.

“How bad could it be?”

Danny took his first step into Paradiso.