Brooke (Orphans 3)

"A phony? Why?"

"Because you never told anyone you were adopted," she said.

"Oh," I said, looking at the back of Heather Harper's head. She was laughing loudly. "Well, why did I have to announce that?" I asked.

"You didn't have to announce it, but you didn't have to pretend you were someone you're not," she replied.

"Yes, I did." I snapped back at her. "Especially here, where everyone judges everyone by how much money her father makes or how big her parents' house is."

"That's not true."

"It is," I insisted.

Lisa glared at me. "You probably knew how to play tennis all along, too," she said. "You made me look stupid."

"What?"

She started away.

"I didn't know. How could I know? Do you think we had a tennis court at my orphanage?" I shouted at her. Some of the other girls looked back, but no one remained to walk to class with me.

Less than forty-eight hours ago, I thought, I was a school hero. Today, I'm a school pariah. Once, when I complained that some of the other kids at my school made me feel inferior, one of my counselors at the orphanage told me sometimes you're respected more because of the nature of the people who dislike you. She was right. If anything, I was angry at myself for trying too hard to be like these girls. No matter how much money Pamela and Peter had, how much money they spent on my clothes, how many pageants I would enter, how big our car and our house were, I would never be like these girls. I felt as if I was born and had lived in a different country. I practically spoke a different language.

I put my head down and went forward. I worked hard in my classes the rest of the day. I ignored everyone. Most of the other girls were polite, if not overly friendly, but even my teachers seemed different to me. Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe I was feeling sorry for myself. Suddenly, I had little to look forward to.

My dark, heavy mood was lifted from my shoulders when I went to physical education class Coach Grossbard called me to her office before I dressed for gym. She was sitting behind her desk with a huge grin on her face.

"I just received a nice phone call a half hour ago and waited for you to attend class," she said.

What could this be? I wondered. Did she just find out I was an orphan, and that somehow made her happy?

"What does it have to do with me?" I asked.

"Everything," she said. "You were chosen by the league to be on the all-star team for the county's all- star game. In fact, you're probably going to be the starting pitcher."

"Really? All-stars?"

She nodded. "I never had a pupil make an allstar team before. Congratulations, Brooke," she said, rising. Instead of shaking my hand, she hugged me.

I couldn't help crying.

"Hey, this is supposed to be a happy occasion," she said, laughing, but there was just too much emotional baggage for me to carry. I bawled harder. "What's wrong, honey?" she asked, making me sit.

I told her as quickly as I could. She sat back and listened, her face turning red with anger. "They should call this place Agnes Fodor's School for Snobs," she said. "You must not let them get you down. They're all just jealous, that's all."

"No, they're not," I said. "There's nothing to be jealous about. They have real families."

"You're twice the person any of them are, honey. Real families or not. People are going to judge you for yourself and not because of your family name. You'll see," she promised. "If you don't feel like dressing for class today, you can skip it," she said.

"Just rest up."

"No," I said, brushing the tears from my cheeks and taking a deep breath. "I'll be all right."

She smiled. "All-star. Wow!" she said.

It did buoy me, and I felt much stronger when I left the building than when I had entered. The word hadn't gotten out about me yet, but I didn't think my new so-called friends would be as happy about it as they would have been a few days ago. I tried not to think about it.

Pamela wasn't home when I returned. I went to my room and started on my homework, but my excitement was so great I couldn't concentrate very well. Finally, I heard footsteps on the stairway and stepped out to see Joline coming up, her anus loaded with packages. Pamela followed soon after.