August and I rounded a corner into another corridor. She opened an old wooden door into a smallish room. It was furnished with two small lowset beds, an old lamp, dusty small dressers, and to finish the look, gray dusty walls and a splintering wooden floor. It smelled like molding wood and bleach. I knew that I was going to have to get used to it. One of the beds was made, sloppily, but it was still there. The other had the same treatment, but had clothes stacked in more sloppy folding on top of it. I guessed that this one was mine.  "Welcome to our room!" August said cheerfully. "Don't worry, there's other places like this in the building, they're not playing favorites." She explained to me what the system was at crunchetem orphanage. By the time she was done I had placed all of the clothes in one of the drawers in the dresser. I had two pairs of jeans, three pairs sweat paints, two short-sleeved shirts, three long-sleeved, and one dress for special occasions. We headed down to dinner early so we can play and get ready for bed, A.K.A. explore the building for posible escape routes. When we got there the tables were already full with children, eating dinner. We got our plates and sat down at the closest table that had space. As I sat down, everybody turned and looked at the misshapen litle girl with the three scars... that suddenly became very interested in a small piece of broccoli.