You'd been up for hours already, sitting on the cold, taupe floor of the orphanage library. Technically, you guess, you weren't supposed to be up before everyone else, and you certainly shouldn't be out of your room. But you just couldn't help yourself- today was a special day. You were set to be the next child to be adopted, and last night, while doing a bit of inquisitive eavesdropping, you overheard one of the governesses say that a telegram was to come this morning from a family on Prince Edward Island, requesting a child for adoption. And finally, after 3 years in this unforgiving place, you were going to be free. You stared intently at the machine. Slowly, your eyelids began to droop. You hadn't slept most of the night, you were too rattled with excitement. You closed your eyes and drifted.

Suddenly, you were snapped back into consciousness by mechanical buzzing and whirring. You scrambled to your feet, almost knocking over a stack of books as you dashed to the machine. Slowly, the paper inched out. You struggled to read the printed text little by little.

You shifted your weight back and forth, dancing around in anticipation. Come on, Come on. 

Your pounding heart swelled with excitement, butterflies fluttering against your ribs. This was it. Yes! Come on! 

a boy.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Slowly, your body crumpled to the floor, gripping the warm piece of paper in your trembling hand. This couldn't be true, it just couldn't. You read the text over and over, trying to process it. The future you had spent the last 3 years dreaming about had seemingly just slipped away. You shook your head, hot tears welling up in your eyes. No. Quickly, you gathered yourself, and stood back up. This was a bad situation, but not an impossible one. Think, (Y/N) Think! 

Tucking the telegram into your clothes, you recalled that a couple from New Brunswick had sent out for a daughter a few months ago. The telegrams weren't dated, so chances are the governess wouldn't notice or remember. You swiftly approached the desk and began rummaging through the drawers until your fingers eventually discovered a small, yellowed slip of paper. You closed the drawer, walking back around the desk, staring at the recovered telegram. This was your ticket to freedom.

"What are you doing in here?" a sharp, cold voice snapped at you.

You jerked your head up, only to meet the eyes of the head governess. She was on the younger side, only about mid-thirties or so, with dark, unfeeling eyes and hawk-like features. 

"I, uh, I heard the telegraph machine. I thought I'd ought to fetch it for you," You lied effortlessly. 

She stared at you suspiciously for a moment before snatching the slip of paper from your outstretched hand. Scanning over the message briefly, her hallowed gaze shifted back down to you. "Pack your things," she spat. You nodded, and walked past her, experiencing a rush of both adrenaline and relief. "Oh, and (Y/N)," She started, and you froze, not facing her. "The coach to the train station will pick you up outside at 10. Be ready." You exhaled, turning to nod and smile before practically dashing off to your room. 

You had to pack your things very carefully in order to not wake the other girls. You had almost forgotten for a second the situation you've put yourself in- your new family was expecting a boy. They'd surely send you back when they see you. There was only one way to solve this. 

If the Cuthberts wanted a boy, they would get a boy.

You quietly crept past the rows of beds and slipped into the bathroom. Staring in the mirror, you realized a big problem. Your long, tumbling locks of (H/C) hair. As much as it hurt, they would have to go. You rooted around in the drawers for a pair of scissors, curling your fingers around a smooth silver handle. Piece by piece, bits of your hair fell onto the floor. Your eyes stung with tears as you looked at your shorn locks. This had to be done. It was for your freedom. You got changed into a set of clothes that you had sneakily procured from the wardrobe in the boys' dorm down the hall. A plain white shirt, dark brown pants, suspenders, a grey tweed hat and brown leather shoes. Facing yourself in the mirror once again, you were pretty satisfied with your new look. You might just be able to pass for quite the handsome boy. 

Taking your duffel in one hand and your coat in the other, you headed out into the hall. Peering down the stairwell from the second floor, you could see two ladies of the house staff chatting at the bottom of the staircase. You gulped, knowing you would have to slip by without drawing any attention. Descending, you tried to walk past them with subtle confidence, so maybe they wouldn't bother you. 

"Excuse me, young man," One of them bellowed, her arms folded. Well, so much for that. You did, though, feel a twinge of satisfaction that you were convincing as a boy. "Where do you think you're going?" 

You swallowed, and took a deep breath. There was no room for mistakes now. "Oh, pardon me. I'm getting adopted today, madam." You beamed, taking the folded telegram out of your pocket and showing her. She glanced at it, and nodded.

"Well, go on then. Be safe." She eyed you carefully despite her soft tone. You gave her a big smile and turned to face the front door. This was it. You pushed it open, and stepped out into the early morning light.