The Great Gilly Hopkins by Katherine Paterson Page A

you don’t—O, my dear Lord—”
    It was the closest to cursing Gilly had ever heard Trotter come to. She looked up into the fat, stricken face.
    â€œO, my dear Lord. What can I do?”
    â€œGilly! Gilly!” William Ernest streaked across the room and began to beat his fists on her knees. “Come home, Gilly. Please come home! Please, please!” The blood vessels stood out blue and strained on his white neck.
    The ice in her frozen brain rumbled and cracked. She stood up and took his hand.
    â€œThank you, precious Jesus,” Trotter said.
    Rhine cleared his throat. “You don’t have to go unless you want to. You know that, don’t you?”
    Gilly nodded. Trotter in the doorway lifted her arms, the brown purse dangling from one of them; the faulty clasp flew open as she did so. She dropped her arms, embarrassed, and forced the purse shut. “I need another taxi, officer.”
    â€œI’ll get Mitchell to drive you,” he said.

POW
    T here was a fight between Trotter and Miss Ellis. Gilly heard the sounds of battle in the living room when she came in from school the next afternoon. “Never, never, never!” Trotter was bellowing like an old cow deprived of its calf.
    Gilly stopped still in the hallway, closing the door without a sound.
    â€œMrs. Trotter, nobody at the agency looks at it as any indication of failure on your part—”
    â€œYou think I care what the agency thinks?”
    â€œYou’re one of our most capable foster parents. You’ve been with us for more than twenty years. This won’t affect your record with us. You’re too valuable—”
    â€œI don’t give a spit about no record. You ain’t taking Gilly.”
    â€œWe’re trying to think of you—”
    â€œNo, you ain’t. If you was thinking of me, you’d never come to me with such a fool notion.”
    â€œThis is a troubled child, Maime. She needs special—”
    â€œNo! I ain’t giving her up. Never!”
    â€œIf you won’t think of yourself, think of William Ernest. He’s come too far in the last year to let—I’ve seen myself how she upsets him.”
    â€œIt was William Ernest got her to come home last night.” Trotter’s voice was square and stubborn.
    â€œBecause he saw how upset you were. That doesn’t mean she can’t damage him.”
    â€œWilliam Ernest has lived with me for over two years. He’s gonna make it. I know he is. Sometimes, Miz Ellis, you gotta walk on your heel and favor your toe even if it makes your heel a little sore.”
    â€œI don’t understand what you’re driving at.”
    â€œSomebody’s got to favor Gilly for a little while. She’s long overdue.”
    â€œThat’s exactly it, Mrs. Trotter. I’m quite aware of Gilly’s needs. I’ve been her caseworker for nearly five years, and whether you believe it or not, I really care about her. But I don’t think it’s her needs we’re talking about right now, is it?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œIt’s your needs.” Said very quietly.
    A silence and then, “Yes, Lord knows, I need her.” A funny broken sound like a sob came from Trotter. “I like to die when I found her gone.”
    â€œYou can’t do that, Mrs. Trotter. You can’t let them tear you to pieces.”
    â€œDon’t try to tell a mother how to feel.”
    â€œYou’re a foster mother, Mrs. Trotter.” Miss Ellis’s voice was firm. “You can’t afford to forget that.”
    Gilly’s whole body was engulfed in a great aching. She opened and slammed the front door, pretending to have just come in. This time they heard her.
    â€œThat you Gilly, honey?”
    She went to the doorway of the living room. Both women were on their feet, flushed as though they’d been running a race.
    â€œWell, Gilly,” Miss Ellis began,