1
Peakie’s Foundling Home
was not a pleasant place to grow up. Children—while clothed, fed,
and educated—were given little more than the basics, and often
found themselves hungry, cold, or abused for not learning their
lessons properly. Josefina wished she would grow older quickly and
couldn’t wait for the day she’d be able to escape the home forever.
She’d been brought to
Peakie’s when she was three years old. She had hazy memories of a
woman, Fina , clutching her, and she anxiously awaited Fina’s return. But
as the months turned into years, the child finally realized no one
would be coming back for her.
When Josefina turned
seven, she summoned up the courage to question the matron in charge
of her ward. “Why am I here?” Josefina knew there was life outside
of Peakie’s; wisps of it survived in her memory. The matron waved
her away, but the child would not be deterred. Every day she asked
the same question. Weeks passed before the matron brought her to
see the headmaster. He nodded toward two straight-back chairs in
front of his desk, and the matron and child sat down.
“ You are asking about your
past life. I’m here to tell you it is dead to you. No one is going
to come and save you from your chores and schoolwork. There is no
idyllic haven that you will be whisked away to in the outside
world. You are here until you reach majority, young lady, and I
expect you to behave and to stop bothering the matron with
questions about your past.
“ I will tell you what I
know of it now, and there will be no further discussion.” He stood
up and paced the width of the room. He was a tall, gaunt man with
prominent features, and when he stopped walking, he placed both
hands on his desk and leaned forward, staring at Josefina with
humorless dark eyes. She shivered. “An old man brought you in and
said he found you in a dead woman’s arms in a library. He told us
your grandmother was dead and your parentage was unknown to him.
The only thing identifying you was the name embroidered in the hem
of the apron you wore—Josefina Charo. We alerted all the proper
authorities, but no one claimed you. We searched for relatives, but
found none. Your parents are probably dead. Thus, you are here to
stay, Josefina. Go back to your classroom and tell your teacher to
double your homework to make up for the lesson you missed this
morning.
“ Let me repeat: No one is
coming back for you. Ever.”
The matron returned
Josefina to the classroom, and the child had a hard time
concentrating on her lesson. She usually loved learning new things,
but not on this day. Instead, she held her text book up high to
shield herself so no one would notice the tears streaming down her
face, or the tiny sniffs that punctuated the wretched stillness of
the dimly lit room.
Josefina had always been
exceptionally bright and had excelled in the curriculum available
to her. She quickly surpassed the other students until there were
no more classes for her to take. She questioned the matron about
continuing her education, but was told flat out that Peakie’s
Foundling Home would not provide a
university education “by any means.” Instead, the matron sent
Josefina to work in the laundry by day and wait on the younger
children during mealtime each night—a tedious existence for a
teenage girl overflowing with intelligence and
imagination.
Josefina’s work schedule
prevented her from participating in outdoor recess. Each day,
regardless of weather, students were herded out the door into a
side yard surrounded by an eight-foot cement block wall. Half the
area was covered in concrete. The other half had a few trees and
benches for people who preferred to sit and contemplate life. The
sparse crabgrass surrounding the base of the trees had a green
tinge, but the rest of the grassy area was brown and would remain
that way. Peakie’s staff would never spend money on something as
trivial as grass seed or fertilizer if they thought
Peakie’s Foundling Home
was not a pleasant place to grow up. Children—while clothed, fed,
and educated—were given little more than the basics, and often
found themselves hungry, cold, or abused for not learning their
lessons properly. Josefina wished she would grow older quickly and
couldn’t wait for the day she’d be able to escape the home forever.
She’d been brought to
Peakie’s when she was three years old. She had hazy memories of a
woman, Fina , clutching her, and she anxiously awaited Fina’s return. But
as the months turned into years, the child finally realized no one
would be coming back for her.
When Josefina turned
seven, she summoned up the courage to question the matron in charge
of her ward. “Why am I here?” Josefina knew there was life outside
of Peakie’s; wisps of it survived in her memory. The matron waved
her away, but the child would not be deterred. Every day she asked
the same question. Weeks passed before the matron brought her to
see the headmaster. He nodded toward two straight-back chairs in
front of his desk, and the matron and child sat down.
“ You are asking about your
past life. I’m here to tell you it is dead to you. No one is going
to come and save you from your chores and schoolwork. There is no
idyllic haven that you will be whisked away to in the outside
world. You are here until you reach majority, young lady, and I
expect you to behave and to stop bothering the matron with
questions about your past.
“ I will tell you what I
know of it now, and there will be no further discussion.” He stood
up and paced the width of the room. He was a tall, gaunt man with
prominent features, and when he stopped walking, he placed both
hands on his desk and leaned forward, staring at Josefina with
humorless dark eyes. She shivered. “An old man brought you in and
said he found you in a dead woman’s arms in a library. He told us
your grandmother was dead and your parentage was unknown to him.
The only thing identifying you was the name embroidered in the hem
of the apron you wore—Josefina Charo. We alerted all the proper
authorities, but no one claimed you. We searched for relatives, but
found none. Your parents are probably dead. Thus, you are here to
stay, Josefina. Go back to your classroom and tell your teacher to
double your homework to make up for the lesson you missed this
morning.
“ Let me repeat: No one is
coming back for you. Ever.”
The matron returned
Josefina to the classroom, and the child had a hard time
concentrating on her lesson. She usually loved learning new things,
but not on this day. Instead, she held her text book up high to
shield herself so no one would notice the tears streaming down her
face, or the tiny sniffs that punctuated the wretched stillness of
the dimly lit room.
Josefina had always been
exceptionally bright and had excelled in the curriculum available
to her. She quickly surpassed the other students until there were
no more classes for her to take. She questioned the matron about
continuing her education, but was told flat out that Peakie’s
Foundling Home would not provide a
university education “by any means.” Instead, the matron sent
Josefina to work in the laundry by day and wait on the younger
children during mealtime each night—a tedious existence for a
teenage girl overflowing with intelligence and
imagination.
Josefina’s work schedule
prevented her from participating in outdoor recess. Each day,
regardless of weather, students were herded out the door into a
side yard surrounded by an eight-foot cement block wall. Half the
area was covered in concrete. The other half had a few trees and
benches for people who preferred to sit and contemplate life. The
sparse crabgrass surrounding the base of the trees had a green
tinge, but the rest of the grassy area was brown and would remain
that way. Peakie’s staff would never spend money on something as
trivial as grass seed or fertilizer if they thought
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