"I'll miss you guys!"

"We'll miss you more!"

Someone was getting adopted today, Maude to be exact. Her luggage was strapped to the top of the station wagon, a carry on stuffed in the trunk. After careful evaluation of the children, Maude was chosen to go home with the visiting couple. Scotlynn didn't mind; they weren't the kind of parents she was looking for. Trouble was, she wasn't sure what she was looking for in the first place.

Maude and her friends hugged as if their lives depended on it on the front steps of the orphanage. The nine year olds were excited at the prospect of a new life for the girl, but it didn't stop a few minute tears from dripping down their cheeks. Such a sweet girl, was Maude. Two red ribbons tied to the ends of her braids. Dimples gracing her cheeks when she smiled, eyes as brown as the chocolate candies she shared with her friends at lunchtime. A dreadful laugh that one couldn't help join in with. Scotlynn stood a distance away, one hand clenching Miss Grandall's skirt, her lips covered in chocolate milk. The old woman had her hand on Scotlynn's head, lightly petting her hair as she waved goodbye to the nine year old. Finally the backdoor closed with the new family inside, and the car drove down the street, vanishing around the corner.

Scotlynn always wondered what was behind that corner.

"I knew you'd get yourself sullied," Mrs. Valerie said. "But there wasn't much of a choice, was there? You really shouldn't stay up late, you have a bedtime. Bedtimes are there for a reason, so we're not tired when we wake up right?" The washcloth burned Scotlynn's skin as she was scrubbed head to toe in the washtub. Her uniform was spinning in the washing machine a few feet away while her ribbon lay on the dryer. After dribbling a few crumbs on herself, the chocolate milk had poured down her chin onto the fabric as well. Miss Atkinson was the first to see, and boy were her feathers ruffled. Before she could play in the toy room she had to clean herself up lest she spread the meal around. "Next time we're going to go to bed at eight, okay?"

"Where's Maude going?" Scotlynn asked.

"She's going to her new family's house. Isn't that exciting?" Scotlynn made circles in the water with her hand. "She has a new mum and dad now. Wouldn't that be nice?"

She scrunched up her face as a cup of water was sloshed over her head. She wished she could breathe underwater like a fish. Maybe fish didn't have to take baths.

There were no fish outside the nursery.

"That hurts," Scotlynn said as the washcloth scoured her skin. For a skinny woman Mrs. Valerie could certainly put some muscle in a task.

"Sorry, sweet pea, but you're covered in breakfast! I'll need a spatula to get this off you." Scotlynn didn't find the exaggeration funny. The washcloth was set down and a cup dipped into the water, drenching her hair. Her vision was blocked by a brown towel and her scalp roughly massaged. The same towel covered her up and pulled her out of the tub, the little girl shivering. "Get your clothes, then off to your room. Everyone's staying in their rooms while the maids clean the building. My goodness, this place is soaked! Mind your step!"

Footprints of water painted every stair. Miss Atkinson had one arm in her grasp, gently escorting the girl to her bedroom from the washroom. Doors were closing more and more the further down they walked, following orders at the latest possible second. Room seven's door was open a crack. Miss Atkinson pushed it. It squeaked. "Here's your room, dear. Give me your uniform, I'll hang it up." The fabric was taken into the woman's hands and she held it against an old wire stretching across the ceiling. Pulling a clothespin from her pocket she hung it, the weight sending it closer to the ground. A puddle of water formed underneath. "School can't come fast enough," the woman mumbled to herself. Pausing, she looked around Scotlynn's room. It hadn't been cleaned in a while. "Too bad the maids don't pick up after you, huh? Well, you can do it yourself, no use waitin' for a miracle. Oh! That's right, you won't be in school, will you?"

"No," Scotlynn agreed. "Did you know they serve you chicken feathers?"

"I guess you can spend that time cleaning your room up then?"

"For lunch," Scotlynn said.

"What was that dear?" Miss Atkinson brushed her red hair out of her face. It reminded Scotlynn of the gingersnaps they handed out at Christmas. Scotlynn fiddled with her towel.

"At school they feed you chickens with the feathers." With a soundless whistle through her lips, she smiled down at the girl. "For lunch."

"I don't know who told you that, but they're wrong. You hear me, dear? They do not feed you feathers. You would sure have one sorry stomach if they did!"

"But...but Jimmie says-"

"Now now, I don't want you bothering with any more tales, understand? Get dressed, then come down for dinner, the maids should be done by then. They should be," she muttered. Miss Atkinson hobbled over to the door, swinging it shut, her shoes signalling her presence every step of the way. No one dared to open their doors.

Scotlynn didn't bother to remove her towel and grab new clothes. It stayed on, and sat with her on the floor. Her tin can telephone had been knocked to a corner. She picked it up and the metal was cold. The string was beginning to fray, the knots on either end loosening. With care her small fingers reached inside the cans and tied them again. There weren't any numbers to press or dial, but she preferred not having any to remember. "Bon? Bon Scott? It's me, Eloise!" She pouted. "Scotlynn..." she mumbled a second later. "Where are you? Are you coming back? Meet me at the gate tomorrow morning!"

The play phone was hung up. Scotlynn picked up a book to read. She couldn't, and instead looked at the pictures. Maybe Bon could read them to her, maybe if she asked. Or maybe he'd laugh at her like all the other kids did. The book was set down and another picked up. A few pages had juice spilled on them. She imagined them having been lost artifacts instead, yellow from time. Books written by ancient Egyptians with strange hieroglyphics she couldn't understand. She found them in a tomb, given to her by the queen as a gift. Never would she let them fall into the wrong hands.

Her locket lay in the pocket of her uniform, the chain hanging out the side.

Down the steps she walked to the hallway, where the door to the mess hall was. The number of supervision was tailored down, resulting in louder children, who only grew louder the closer the door approached. Inside the mess hall was a half circle of kids waiting to be served while the other half didn't exist; the children deciding sitting while they waited was a bore. Poor Old Shana stood helplessly on the side, attempting to corral the children before the food went flying into their mouths. Scotlynn avoided the chair tipped over by the entrance and walked in. All the work the maids accomplished was reversed.

Scotlynn searched the table for the little blonde girl who could read book titles. Sitting next to her wouldn't be such a thorn in her side, and perhaps the two could converse. About fish scales, or their latest adventures. Or perhaps Scotlynn could talk about Bon Scott, and the blonde girl would ask so many questions.

Maybe they could both see him that evening by the tree, and watch him smoke.

Laughter behind her caught her attention. None of their eyes met hers and Scotlynn ignored it. Any one of the tens of children in that room could have been the culprit. The little blonde girl was nowhere in sight, but the laughter continued down the circle of children like dominoes. She walked the length of the table, eventually reaching the half circle sprawled throughout the rest of the room. Two kids ran in front of her, the chaser holding a fork in her hand. More and more pairs of eyes looked at her, some with a laugh to go along with it. Her brow furrowed.

A full circle around the table and still no little blonde girl. Jimmie Bean also failed to show up, and the orange haired girl knew better than to catch the sight of Scotlynn. Finding a place to sit away from the chaos, she pulled her chair out.

"Do you see her? Look at her!"

The whispers wouldn't stop. Some were hardly hidden.

"Does she know?"

Scotlynn kept her head down, eyes glued to her plate. Some select few kids looked sorry for her, biting their lips. Others couldn't stop giggling and one even pointed a finger.

"Should I tell her?" Scotlynn heard someone ask. The voices were so stuck together now that she couldn't tell which direction any of them were coming from. Old Shana was still wrestling with the troublemakers in their own world of fun, none of them paying attention to anyone. The atmosphere was clouding the girl's mind, and her fingers instinctively reached into her pocket for her silver locket. Only, she didn't have her locket with her. She hadn't any pockets either. The towel was still wrapped over her shoulders, her uniform still hanging in her bedroom. Scotlynn felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Um, excuse me." She turned around to see a blonde girl with glasses, but not the blonde she was looking for. "My friends and I were wondering if you knew that you..."

No artist on the planet had ever painted with a shade redder than the one Scotlynn wore on her face. The laughter suddenly made sense. Nearly all the residents at the table had noticed. And let her find out the hard way.

Hot tears filled her eyes. The girl with the glasses was about eight, but had the biggest heart in the room. She helped Scotlynn out of her chair and led her out of the mess hall. Scotlynn hid her face behind the towel she brought up to her cheeks to catch the tears. No matter how many fell, it could never make enough wishes to get her out of a predicament like this.

Old Shana wiped her hands on her apron. "Hey, where are you two going?"

"I'm helping her back to her room," the girl explained.

"It's dinner time girls, we don't serve you in bed unless you've got a tragic illness." The girl stood in front of Scotlynn to hide her, Scotlynn shrinking behind her. "Now what are you doing that can't wait until after dinner?"

"She just needs a tissue," the girl said.

"What?"

"She just needs a tissue!" The noise in the room was still growing, some laughter replaced by a chattering audience. Scotlynn wiped her nose on her towel, wrapping the fabric closer around her suddenly much colder body. Old Shana was next to them in an instant.

"Oh my goodness, okay, I'll take her, dear. Go sit back down in your seat." Scotlynn was ushered away from the eight year old while the cook escorted her out of the room. The laughter had died down, but it seemed eternal in the girl's mind. Both cheeks were soaked when the corner of an apron wiped them. "It's okay, dear, you're not the first one here to make a mistake. They should know."

The chaos among the other half of the table hadn't stopped when Old Shana left the room. Seeing one less adult around them, the girls continued their game of tag, looking away from their path at the worst time. The one being chased ran right into Scotlynn, the girl hitting the floor harder than if she had her hands out in front of her. Luckily the towel hadn't fallen off, but her bare legs rose behind her, exposing the secret to those who hadn't known. The fork landed a foot away, avoiding cutting anyone.

That would have been the last thing on her mind.

Old Shana hurried to help Scotlynn off the floor, the girl drowning in the inferno of embarrassment. Her nose hurt, as well as both arms. The old woman held her towel together with one hand, the other on her back hurrying her along. The hallway to the stairs was much quieter. Scotlynn could hear only one pair of shoes. "You know my grandson used to make the same mistakes you did? One Thanksgiving he came down to dinner in nothing but his trousers! Been working in the yard all day and went upstairs to change his shirt. Or was it on Christmas?"

The girl didn't listen. She thought about Bon instead. Where the chain of the locket had been absent, she thought of Bon as a way to replace it. Hardly knowing where the idea stemmed from, she didn't object to it. He was nice to think about. He didn't poke fun at her to be mean.

Scotlynn didn't think so, at least.

The stairs had dried while Scotlynn waited for the maids to finish cleaning that afternoon. Her room was only a few doors down and Old Shana opened it for her. It was still a mess inside. Tissues from a box on the dresser were pushed into her face by the old woman, soaking up any tears trying to make a stain. "Where's your uniform?" Without any answer, Old Shana looked at the window where it was hanging from the ceiling. "Oh, so you're the one who made a mess at breakfast. Two accidents, that's not good." Opening the top dresser, a nightgown was pulled out and handed to the girl, the towel left to sit on the bed. When the article was pulled over her head she stood there, watching the cook gather the uniform and towel.

"Just be giving these a nice wash, okay? We'll have your dress dried for the next time for you. I'll have Maggie bring your food here today, if Mabel asks, just give her to me." Scotlynn nodded and sat on her bed pulling her knees to her chest. With a toothy grin, Old Shana left.

Never even asking for her thank you.