Crystal (Orphans 2)

hat that is?"

"Yes," I said. "Taking out a woman's egg, inserting sperm into it in a Petri dish, and placing it back in the woman's womb."

"You are smart. Yes. Well, it didn't work for her. She miscarried. She was very depressed afterward. Very depressed," he emphasized, raising his eyebrows and widening his eyes. "It was then that she began to watch television. Getting involved in the stories was the only thing that excited her. I couldn't oppose it." He paused and then glanced at me quickly. "I didn't want to tell you this so soon," he continued, "but you're my big hope:'

"Me? How?"

"I'm hoping she'll become so involved with you and real-life things that she'll start to drift away from the make-believe world. I was holding my breath when you first came to our home, waiting to see if you were going to get sucked into those soap operas with her. You don't know how glad I am that you haven't been," he said.

"I like a good story," I confessed.

"Sure, who doesn't? But it can't become your whole life. It does for people who have nothing but popcorn in their heads. You're not one of them. You're a serious young lady. You're going to be someone, and I want to be there when they hand you your first diploma."

I smiled. He sounded proud already, and I hadn't done a thing. In fact, it was the first time I felt he sounded like a real father.

"I hope you're there too," I told him

He seemed to relax in his seat and soften his grip around the steering wheel. We really were getting to know each other better. Thelma had made a good suggestion.

"I'll tell you another one of my secrets," he offered. "I even view people in terms of numbers."

"How do you do that?" I asked.

"Easy." He paused as if he wasn't going to say any more, but he had a small smile on his lips again. "Some people are positive numbers, and many are negative. Didn't you ever hear someone say, 'He's a complete zero'? Well, that's how I group people in my mind, only I have categories in the negatives, too." He laughed. "My immediate superior is a minus ten. He used to be a minus five, but he's gotten worse."

"I've heard about women being rated like that," I said. "A beautiful woman is supposed to be a ten."

"Yeah, but that's a stupid use of numbers," he said angrily. It was as if numbers were his province and no one else had a right to use them. "You don't measure someone solely on the way he or she looks. It's what's going on in here," he said, stabbing his temple with his forefinger so hard I imagined the pain, "that counts. Counts, get it?" he said, smiling

I nodded.

"There she blows," he cried, nodding ahead of us. I saw the school building down the street. Arriving buses were emptying their passengers. Old friends were hugging and talking excitedly to one another. They all he that first-day-of-school look, the clean and crisp appearance their parents most likely imposed on them.

"You know the number of the bus that takes you home?" Karl asked

"Yes."

"Okay, have a great first day," he said, pulling to the curb. He looked at me as if he wanted to give me a kiss good-bye. I waited a moment expecting it, but he just smiled and nodded again, squirming in his seat as if he was uncomfortable. We were still orbiting each other like strangers, waiting for something that would make us truly father and daughter. Why was it so much harder for me than it was for all those young people laughing and shouting in front of the school? What wonderful things had they done to deserve their families, their mommies and daddies? What terrible thing had I done to be born alone?

"'Bye," I cried, and hopped out of the car. I turned to wave, but he was pulling away, his attention locked on the driveway in front of him.

First days of school always had a special feeling to them. The desks, the blackboards, the hallways, the bathrooms, windows, and floors were squeaky clean. You could still smell the detergents, wood polish, glass cleaner, and fresh paint. Voices, footsteps, and bells all had a deeper, longer echo. There was an electricity of expectation and

anticipation in the air, as well as some mystery. What was going to be required of us? How well would we get along with our new teachers? How well would we get along with one another? Those who had been here before studied one another to discover the changes a summer of fun or work or both had effected on their bodies, their faces, and, most of all, their personalities.

Girls and boys alike were exploring new styles, wore their hair differently, dressed more maturely. Those who were more insecure about themselves held themselves back toward the rear, in the shadows, out of the direct flow of conversations and attention, while the confident strutted with their heads high, seeking to reclaim their turf quickly and eyeing every possible contender with suspicion.

New kids were interesting and yet threatening. I could almost hear their suspicion when they looked at me. The girl who was expected to win the lead in the school play wondered if I would try out and take her part away. The students who were at the top of their classes, racing toward the awards and honors, wondered if I would be real competition. Girls who were leaders of their little cliques feared I might be more sophisticated and win away their loyal followers. Girls and even boys who fell outside the circle of social life hoped I might be another one of them, a friend, a buoy to cling to in the sea of turmoil adults called the teenage years, adolescence.

I was here. I had landed, and I was living with a family now. No one could fix the label of orphan on my forehead like the mark of Cain and make me feel so different that I saw curiosity and rejection in the eyes of those who were supposed to be friends. At least, that was what I hoped.

The moment I spotted Helga talking and laughing with a group of girls near the girls' room, I felt a dark foreboding take hold of my heart. She saw me and nudged someone, and they all grew quiet and looked my way.

"Hi," she called, waving me toward her. "Hi."

"You didn't take the bus this morning, so I

didn't know whether or not you were still living with Karl and Thelma," she said.