Moss told me she has a special paper saying she can keep us in the corner as long as she wants.” He shrugged. “I guess I’m gonna get it when we get home.”
“We all told stuff,” I said to comfort him. “I bet our workers will be there to take us away the minute we get back.”
“No, they’ll say it’s my fault. Nobody wants me because of my temper. That is why we’re all there. The Mosses take the ones nobody else wants.”
“My mother wants me!” I retorted.
“And me, too!” chimed Luke, even though I knew by that time that Mama wanted only me and that he was going back to Dusty.
“Anyway,” Mitchell added, “I stuck up for you.”
“Did you tell her about the Caboodles?” I asked.
“Yeah. I said you took the blame even though you didn’t do it.”
This time I really did expect Mr. Ferris to be waiting for Luke and me after school with our belongings in plastic bags. Finally, my dolls and dresses would be freed from the shed and we would go to a safer home. However, just like before, nothing happened.
Miles Ferris did not visit us again until the end of January. I overheard Mrs. Moss telling him, “Ashley likes to go to school and tell stories about my home and family.” Mr. Ferris arched his eyebrows reprovingly. She apparently took this as a sign that he was on her side and grumbled, “I don’t know how much more I can take from that girl.”
I was surprised when he showed up again the next week because he usually came only every few months. The visit was brief. On the way out the door he bent close to my ear. “You be good now and don’t make any waves.”
Two weeks later we celebrated Valentine’s Day at school. A few mothers brought cupcakes and passed out heart-shaped candies with sayings printed on them. I had saved my biggest valentine—the one we were supposed to take home to our mothers—and gave it to my teacher, Mrs. Brush. She pinned it to the bulletin board. I had no idea that was to be my last week in her class.
When I returned from school on Friday, I found Miles Ferris waiting for me. This time my belongings were stuffed into a plastic sack.
“Here, I’ll take that.” Mr. Ferris lifted my backpack.
I started for the bedroom, but Mrs. Moss stopped me. “I packed everything. You’ve got your toothbrush, underwear, shoes, and all your clothes.”
“What about the outfits my mother sent?” I asked tentatively.
“Of course,” she claimed.
“What about my dress with the hoop?”
“It don’t fit you no more.”
I appealed to Mr. Ferris. “Did you get my Precious Moments sleeping bag?”
“She gave me everything.” He pushed me toward the car.
I watched as he put my backpack and one meager garbage sack in the trunk. He did not have anything from the shed.
“What about my dolls and my Easy-Bake oven?” I started to panic.
Mr. Ferris rolled his eyes toward Mrs. Moss.
“She has a big imagination,” Mrs. Moss stated.
“You saw the oven when my mother visited me!” I said vehemently. He was more interested in getting me into the car than dealing with my protests. “Where’s Luke?”
“You’ll have visits,” Mr. Ferris said in a flat voice. He buckled me in.
“Please, I need my dolls, my stuff in the shed,” I begged.
“I’ll get them later,” he said to mollify me, then slammed the door.
As we pulled out of the driveway, I heard a shattering sound inside my head as if a glass had broken between my ears. My school … Mrs. Brush … my friends … Mandy and Toby … little Clare … Lilly and Katie … and—Luke! I was escaping, but he was left behind. He needed me to warn him, to protect him, to comfort him. And yet … I felt as worthless as the junk in my trash bag. Once again, I was the one being tossed out and thrown away.
7.
orphan by decree
“Are you taking me to my mother?” I asked Miles Ferris as he drove. He kept his eyes on the road and did not reply. “Why isn’t Luke coming with us?” Still no answer. “Why
“We all told stuff,” I said to comfort him. “I bet our workers will be there to take us away the minute we get back.”
“No, they’ll say it’s my fault. Nobody wants me because of my temper. That is why we’re all there. The Mosses take the ones nobody else wants.”
“My mother wants me!” I retorted.
“And me, too!” chimed Luke, even though I knew by that time that Mama wanted only me and that he was going back to Dusty.
“Anyway,” Mitchell added, “I stuck up for you.”
“Did you tell her about the Caboodles?” I asked.
“Yeah. I said you took the blame even though you didn’t do it.”
This time I really did expect Mr. Ferris to be waiting for Luke and me after school with our belongings in plastic bags. Finally, my dolls and dresses would be freed from the shed and we would go to a safer home. However, just like before, nothing happened.
Miles Ferris did not visit us again until the end of January. I overheard Mrs. Moss telling him, “Ashley likes to go to school and tell stories about my home and family.” Mr. Ferris arched his eyebrows reprovingly. She apparently took this as a sign that he was on her side and grumbled, “I don’t know how much more I can take from that girl.”
I was surprised when he showed up again the next week because he usually came only every few months. The visit was brief. On the way out the door he bent close to my ear. “You be good now and don’t make any waves.”
Two weeks later we celebrated Valentine’s Day at school. A few mothers brought cupcakes and passed out heart-shaped candies with sayings printed on them. I had saved my biggest valentine—the one we were supposed to take home to our mothers—and gave it to my teacher, Mrs. Brush. She pinned it to the bulletin board. I had no idea that was to be my last week in her class.
When I returned from school on Friday, I found Miles Ferris waiting for me. This time my belongings were stuffed into a plastic sack.
“Here, I’ll take that.” Mr. Ferris lifted my backpack.
I started for the bedroom, but Mrs. Moss stopped me. “I packed everything. You’ve got your toothbrush, underwear, shoes, and all your clothes.”
“What about the outfits my mother sent?” I asked tentatively.
“Of course,” she claimed.
“What about my dress with the hoop?”
“It don’t fit you no more.”
I appealed to Mr. Ferris. “Did you get my Precious Moments sleeping bag?”
“She gave me everything.” He pushed me toward the car.
I watched as he put my backpack and one meager garbage sack in the trunk. He did not have anything from the shed.
“What about my dolls and my Easy-Bake oven?” I started to panic.
Mr. Ferris rolled his eyes toward Mrs. Moss.
“She has a big imagination,” Mrs. Moss stated.
“You saw the oven when my mother visited me!” I said vehemently. He was more interested in getting me into the car than dealing with my protests. “Where’s Luke?”
“You’ll have visits,” Mr. Ferris said in a flat voice. He buckled me in.
“Please, I need my dolls, my stuff in the shed,” I begged.
“I’ll get them later,” he said to mollify me, then slammed the door.
As we pulled out of the driveway, I heard a shattering sound inside my head as if a glass had broken between my ears. My school … Mrs. Brush … my friends … Mandy and Toby … little Clare … Lilly and Katie … and—Luke! I was escaping, but he was left behind. He needed me to warn him, to protect him, to comfort him. And yet … I felt as worthless as the junk in my trash bag. Once again, I was the one being tossed out and thrown away.
7.
orphan by decree
“Are you taking me to my mother?” I asked Miles Ferris as he drove. He kept his eyes on the road and did not reply. “Why isn’t Luke coming with us?” Still no answer. “Why
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