Runaways (Orphans 5)

However, Gordon was always after her to keep some distance between herself and the wards. He would complain about it, out loud, right in front of us.

"You're getting too involved with that one, Louise. I warned you."

Afterward, she explained that she and Gordon had been specifically instructed not to get too close with or form any sort of bond with a foster child. The logic was we were here only temporarily and soon were going back to our real parents or off to new adoptive families, and no one wanted any of us to feel sad about leaving or resent our new homes. What a joke. Who would resent leaving this? For my part, I was happy Gordon kept some distance and happy he was always after her to do the same.

Sometimes, she looked at us as if we really all were her children. Childless, she regretted losing any one of us. A real mother couldn't be more possessive at times, but warm affection around here was like contraband. She had to look for Gordon first and be sure he wasn't around before she planted a kiss on a child's forehead or held someone close to her ample bosom.

Louise wasn't the only one who tried to make us feel like a family here. A sweet elderly lady who insisted we all call her Grandma Kelly prepared our meals each day and always had kind words or a smile for us. Grandma Kelly lived in the nearby village of Mountaindale and had actually worked for the Tooey family when the Lakewood House was still a tourist retreat. She was only about five feet three with a round face that always had scarlet tinted cheeks, especially when she worked over a hot stove. She had soft eyes as blue as blue jay feathers. Her hair was the color of pewter and even more curly than Butterfly's, but she always wore a cap when she was in the kitchen. She told us she hadn't been brought to America until she was nearly twelve. To this day she still had an Irish brogue. Crystal said she reminded her of a leprechaun.

"It would be great if Grandma Kelly really was a leprechaun and led us to treasure so we could get out

of here," I said.

Of course, Crystal didn't believe in such fairy tales, but we all liked to think that there was a pot of gold out there for us.

We joked about what Grandma Kelly would have made for breakfast that morning as we walked down to the dining room and while we stood in line waiting for our meals Crystal told us she planned on spending the day at the library, using their computer.

Crystal's dream was to become a doctor, and she told us she'd been researching information on getting college scholarships. She claimed that anything we wanted to learn about could be found on the Internet.

"What about my future?" I asked.

"As I told you before, there are statistics about foster children. Every year about fifteen thousand graduate from foster care by turning eighteen with no permanent family, and forty percent of all foster children leaving the system end up on welfare."

"Thanks for the encouragement," I muttered. "Miss Good News."

"You Mild get married," Raven said. "That's what I'm going to do as soon as I find someone rich enough."

"Why should he marry you?" I asked.

"Because I'm the prettiest girl he'll know," she replied, turning her shoulder and fluttering those long, black eyelashes. "And I'm the next Selena who will make one hit song after another, that's why." Butterfly laughed and Raven hugged her. "Someone loves me," she said. "Butterfly will be a famous dancer too, Crystal, so put that into your stupid statistics."

"I hate to disappoint or discourage you, but it's pretty hard to make it in the entertainment industry," Crystal joked back. "And look what happened to Selena!"

Raven stuck out her tongue as she turned to take Butterfly's hand. "C'mon Butterfly, let's get our food and let Crystal be grumpy by herself. She just doesn't know how to believe. We can be anything, as long as we believe." Raven's words sounded brave, but I knew that they were mostly for Butterfly's benefit; she was still shaking from this morning's episode.

As we waited in line for our food we surveyed the dining room.

Along the walls were the old photographs of the Lakewood House's bygone days, group pictures of guests gathered at the lake or around the lawn chairs. In most of the pictures, the people were dressed formally, men in jackets and ties, women in anklelength dresses with high collars and frilly sleeves, all with pale faces, and all looking years and years older than they really were. There were many photos of families because the Lakewood House catered to families. The foster children now living here looked at these pictures closely, usually with soft, dreamy smiles on their faces, imagining themselves as part of one of those families, hugging their mother, holding their father's hand, standing close to their brothers and sisters, having a name.

It did look like the Lakewood House was a pretty, happy place once, full of laughter and music. According to Grandma Kelly, the guests sat on the big wraparound porch and talked into the wee hours while the crickets chirped and the owls peered through the moonlit night, curious about the murmur of voices, the sound of screen doors, the cry of a child. Sometimes, although I would never say it, even to one of the Orphanteers, I thought I heard the ghostly laughter and even the quick steps of happy children running through the house, out the screen door and down the steps to play on the carpeted green lawns, safe, happy and full of hope.

Maybe someday we would run out of this house to a place full of safety, happiness and hope.

The din of conversation, clanking dishes and silverware, laughter and screeching that greeted us this morning was a hundred decibels louder than on weekdays. School-age children knew they had two days off and except for the final afternoon hours of Sunday, could put school work aside. On nice days, we could play softball or go down to the dilapidated, cracked and crumbling tennis court and volley or play doubles after our chores. Raven and I were the house champions and I was always the captain of the softball team. Louise permitted the older kids to have a picnic lunch if they took a few of the younger ones with them and watched over them. She trusted the four of us with more children than any of the other older children.

Often Gordon would find work for us, however. We painted the house, cut grass, collected leaves or washed windows. Inside, we washed floors, helped with dishes, dusted and vacuumed. We were told this was our home so we had to take care of it ourselves.

"You'll appreciate our home more," Louise explained to soften the blow of Gordon's assignments.

"You don't have to justify anything I tell them to do. They should work for what they get," Gordon blasted at her before turning to us, his eyes fixed like two laser beams. "I don't ever want to hear

complaints."

Chores were rotated. None of us four had to do kitchen work this weekend. We stepped into the dining room, a long, wide room with the biggest windows and the only windows that had new blinds because this was where the state people were entertained when they came. We saw Meg Callaway running the food line. A few long tables were placed together at the other end of the room and all of us walked by, filling our plates. Meg was fifteen, tall and gangly, with braces that looked like car bumpers on her teeth. Crystal said she could be the daughter of Ichabod Crane from Sleepy Hollow. She read the description of him that said he had a neck so long and a nose so long, he looked like someone had perched a weather vane on his shoulders.

Meg was always trying to get in with us, be one of us, but whatever chemistry existed among us didn't exist in her. She was sneaky and conniving and full of so much jealousy and envy that Raven said her eyes had to be green no matter what. She was always whispering and trying to turn one of us against the other. She spread rumors like fertilizer in a garden hoping to grow conflicts and make herself look like everyone's hero. No one really liked her, but many were afraid if they didn't pretend to be friendly, they would be the object of some mischief. Twice last week, I had caught her taking stuff from younger kids.

"Here comes Goldilocks and the three bears," she quipped as we approached the food table. She studied Butterfly a moment and then her lips thinned and hinged at the corners to form her icy smile. "Why was Goldilocks crying now? Someone pour glue into her dancing shoes?"