looked up at me and held out her hands in a questioning way. “You vant?” she asked. She had a strong accent and a shy smile.
“Sure,” I said quickly. “Thanks!” I sat down on the grass opposite her as the girl with the bob stood up. “You want to do that one again, or do you maybe want to learn a new song?” I asked.
The girl smiled eagerly, and as we began to clap, I sang:
Miss Lucy had a steamboat
,
The steamboat had a bell
.
Miss Lucy went to heaven
,
and the steamboat went to
HELLO, operator
,
When I got to that line, a small group of girls tittered behind me. I glanced back and realized we were attracting a crowd. Molly was beaming. I sang:
Please give me number nine
.
And if you disconnect me
,
I will chop off your …
More girls had joined us. This time, when I got to the punch line, the girls behind me chorused the obvious.
BEHIND the ’frigerator
,
There was a piece of glass
.
Miss Lucy sat upon it
And cut her big fat …
I was caught up in it now, having such a good time, singing and clapping. I kept going.
ASK me no more questions
,
I’ll tell you no more lies
.
The boys are in the bathroom
,
Zipping up their …
Now the girl opposite me was blushing, but she was also still clapping, so I sang on, a little faster.
FLIES are in the meadow
,
The bees are in the park
.
Miss Lucy and her boyfriend
Are kissing in the …
DARK
is like a movie
,
A movie’s like a show
,
A show is like a TV set
And that is all I know!
I finished, breathless. The girl with the braids grinned and Molly burst out laughing. The other girls around us broke into light applause. In the grass a few feet away, another pair was already attempting a slightly messy version of “Miss Lucy.” When they got to the words
TV set
, they said it like one big word: “TEEVEESET!” The way I sang the songs I learned in French class: “FRAYERAJOCKAFRAYERAJOCKADORMAYVOODORMAYVOO.” Memorized sounds, not words. “TEEVEESET!”
I chuckled.
“Vat is funny?” asked the girl opposite me.
“Oh, nothing,” I said. “Thanks, that was really fun. Do you want to do another, or will recess be over soon? It’s funny you have school in the summer.”
“School?” The girl looked puzzled.
“No, Annie, look,” said Molly, pointing to a plaque on the building. “This
isn’t
a school.”
I looked up. “The Baltimore Home for Girls,” I read out loud.
“Excepting it’s not a
home
, not really,” called out a voice. A girl a little older than the rest was standing off to one side. She had blond hair and pale blue eyes. She stared at me, hands on hips. “It’s
instead
of a home. Which isn’t the same at all. Who’re you?”
“I’m Annie,” I said. “Who’re you?”
“Geneva.” She didn’t add anything, and she didn’t take her eyes off me.
“Wait, so is this an—” I almost couldn’t bring myself to say it.
“Orphanage?” Geneva spat the word out. “Sure is.”
“An orphanage,” echoed Molly beside me.
“That so hard to believe?” asked Geneva.
Molly said, “I just always thought there would be a fence at an orphanage. Like in Dickens. Also—you don’t look hungry.”
I stared at Molly. I couldn’t believe she’d said that, but I had to admit, it was sort of what I’d been thinking too. These girls looked fine to me. Clean clothes, and they seemed happy, with their jacks and their hand claps. Not the way I’d pictured orphans at all.
Geneva shrugged. “Why would they need a fence? They’d be happy if I left. They’d give my spot to the next girl, and I’d be sorry. My folks brought me here for a reason, you know?”
I was confused. “Folks? You mean, you have parents?”
“Not
much
parents,” snorted Geneva. “But Pa would thrash me if I ran off. I’m not hungry
because
I’m here.”
“I don’t understand.” Molly’s eyes were wide. “Your parents
brought
you here? So you aren’t actually an orphan?”
Geneva shrugged.
“Sure,” I said quickly. “Thanks!” I sat down on the grass opposite her as the girl with the bob stood up. “You want to do that one again, or do you maybe want to learn a new song?” I asked.
The girl smiled eagerly, and as we began to clap, I sang:
Miss Lucy had a steamboat
,
The steamboat had a bell
.
Miss Lucy went to heaven
,
and the steamboat went to
HELLO, operator
,
When I got to that line, a small group of girls tittered behind me. I glanced back and realized we were attracting a crowd. Molly was beaming. I sang:
Please give me number nine
.
And if you disconnect me
,
I will chop off your …
More girls had joined us. This time, when I got to the punch line, the girls behind me chorused the obvious.
BEHIND the ’frigerator
,
There was a piece of glass
.
Miss Lucy sat upon it
And cut her big fat …
I was caught up in it now, having such a good time, singing and clapping. I kept going.
ASK me no more questions
,
I’ll tell you no more lies
.
The boys are in the bathroom
,
Zipping up their …
Now the girl opposite me was blushing, but she was also still clapping, so I sang on, a little faster.
FLIES are in the meadow
,
The bees are in the park
.
Miss Lucy and her boyfriend
Are kissing in the …
DARK
is like a movie
,
A movie’s like a show
,
A show is like a TV set
And that is all I know!
I finished, breathless. The girl with the braids grinned and Molly burst out laughing. The other girls around us broke into light applause. In the grass a few feet away, another pair was already attempting a slightly messy version of “Miss Lucy.” When they got to the words
TV set
, they said it like one big word: “TEEVEESET!” The way I sang the songs I learned in French class: “FRAYERAJOCKAFRAYERAJOCKADORMAYVOODORMAYVOO.” Memorized sounds, not words. “TEEVEESET!”
I chuckled.
“Vat is funny?” asked the girl opposite me.
“Oh, nothing,” I said. “Thanks, that was really fun. Do you want to do another, or will recess be over soon? It’s funny you have school in the summer.”
“School?” The girl looked puzzled.
“No, Annie, look,” said Molly, pointing to a plaque on the building. “This
isn’t
a school.”
I looked up. “The Baltimore Home for Girls,” I read out loud.
“Excepting it’s not a
home
, not really,” called out a voice. A girl a little older than the rest was standing off to one side. She had blond hair and pale blue eyes. She stared at me, hands on hips. “It’s
instead
of a home. Which isn’t the same at all. Who’re you?”
“I’m Annie,” I said. “Who’re you?”
“Geneva.” She didn’t add anything, and she didn’t take her eyes off me.
“Wait, so is this an—” I almost couldn’t bring myself to say it.
“Orphanage?” Geneva spat the word out. “Sure is.”
“An orphanage,” echoed Molly beside me.
“That so hard to believe?” asked Geneva.
Molly said, “I just always thought there would be a fence at an orphanage. Like in Dickens. Also—you don’t look hungry.”
I stared at Molly. I couldn’t believe she’d said that, but I had to admit, it was sort of what I’d been thinking too. These girls looked fine to me. Clean clothes, and they seemed happy, with their jacks and their hand claps. Not the way I’d pictured orphans at all.
Geneva shrugged. “Why would they need a fence? They’d be happy if I left. They’d give my spot to the next girl, and I’d be sorry. My folks brought me here for a reason, you know?”
I was confused. “Folks? You mean, you have parents?”
“Not
much
parents,” snorted Geneva. “But Pa would thrash me if I ran off. I’m not hungry
because
I’m here.”
“I don’t understand.” Molly’s eyes were wide. “Your parents
brought
you here? So you aren’t actually an orphan?”
Geneva shrugged.
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