"Hide it, quick!" A couple pieces of rock candy collected from a discarded shoe outside was handed off in exchange for a yellowing postcard. These were the kinds of finds that needed to be secret. They were too good.

Scotlynn sat down in a chair much too big for her at the table much too small for the mess hall. Ladies of all looks came out of a kitchen single file, each carrying a pot or a pan. Food soon piled high onto the children's plates, food that would make any vagabond envious. Old Shana, the head cook, came right up to each child to receive a thank you. When she passed Scotlynn, the two were soon eye to eye.

"Well now, you must be new here. Are you livin' with us now?" Scotlynn could only nod. Old Shana smiled a smile fit for a jack-o-lantern; toothy and wide. "How 'bout that! What's your name then, sweetie?"

"Eloise."

"Eloise. What a name like Eloise. I used to have a niece named Eloise before a fever took her. 1955 it was. Yessir, I remember it like it was yesterday. Sweet little girl. Wore two blue ribbons I think it was. Or was it one? No, two blue ribbons for each pigtail. Or were they pink? Oh well, sweet thing. Anyways, say thank you."

"Thank you I guess."

Old Shana left the girls to eat their dinner. The clock struck four as forks of potatoes and gravy were lifted into the mouths of eager children. Jimmie Bean sat at the end of the table; one hand on a fork, the other on a new bottle cap. The smells coming from the kitchen behind them were enough to drown out even the talking and the room was held in a hushed murmur. Scotlynn shifted in her seat as the wood beneath her was bumpy. It matched the other chair, which matched the table, which matched the room and building. Lumpy and bumpy like the skin on a toad.

Scotlynn liked fish better. But there were no fish in the mess hall. Not alive ones anyway.

The door swung open by Miss Atkinson making her evening visit to the mess hall. The nursery never made the trip down here and therefore never saw her. Once today was enough for Scotlynn. The pudgy woman made her way around the table when Old Shana saw her. "Mabel! Hello again, we've all been waiting for you. Haven't we?" A generic nod swept through the room with a few verbal answers. Scotlynn didn't move. "Oh! We have a new girl here today! Her name is Eloise! There she is!" A wrinkled finger pointed in the girl's direction and Miss Atkinson moved her glasses to see.

"Oh, that's not Eloise. Her name is Scotlynn. She just visited me this afternoon, we've already met."

"I met you when I was brought here!" Scotlynn yelled over the growing noise, whether she remembered the day or not. The cook ignored her and came over.

"So the name's Scotlynn huh? How do you spell that?" The girl swallowed her gravy. Being the only child in the room who couldn't read as they were all already five and up, she naturally didn't want to make a fool of herself. As best as she could she sounded out the letters she learned last year.

"Sss-es, k-k-kay, awww-oh, llll-ell, iii-eye, nnn-enn." Miss Atkinson bit her lip, but gave the child an encouraging nod.

"She's only four Shana, she hasn't learned to read yet." The pudgy woman may as well as just slapped the girl in the face. Not being able to read was one weakness that children were able to laugh at. Trivial topics like driving or smoking meant nothing to them. But if you couldn't read...you should just eat chicken feathers for lunch.

Pairs of eyes all across the table arose to see Scotlynn shift in her chair. "I see then. That's quite alright, dear. My niece couldn't read till she was seven. Or was it eight? Oh well. Anyways, get to eatin' girls." Old Shana left the room while Miss Atkinson watched over her precious angels as she called them. To anyone else it looked like her smile was directed at them, but Scotlynn could see she wished she were at the table with gravy on her face. The fork was picked up gently, but clashed back on the plate as the girl on her left elbowed her.

"You can't read yet?" a blonde girl said. Scotlynn shook her head with a nasty look that dared her to make a comment. The blonde turned back to her meal. "I'm just learning. I can read Sesame Street and The Daily Mail." Scotlynn was impressed until the girl said, "Just the title though."

Not a word more was spoken between the two. And for that Scotlynn was grateful. First her hated real name was exposed to all within radius, and now she couldn't read. The girl wondered if she could sneak back to the nursery without getting caught just to spare herself from any further humiliation. More and more the idea seemed far fetched, and she dropped it; compromising for smacking anybody who'd give her a hard time. That'd show them. She didn't need to read.

The clock struck five and it was time for bed.

The ceiling made no sense to Scotlynn. She lay there on the bare mattress with only a blanket, staring skyward. Every night before this one, she would watch the ceiling for pictures within the plaster, and conjure up brilliant stories out of them. Stories that had no trouble putting her to sleep. But this night was different. No matter how hard she looked, she couldn't find a single one. And as a result she lay wide awake on her mattress.

A few stirs outside took her attention to her left, to the window with the blue curtain. Jimmie Bean's words came back and Scotlynn wished they wouldn't. She escaped disappearance once, but now there were no meals or recesses that would save her at this time. Figuring it wouldn't hurt to check to make sure he wasn't close enough to take her, she slipped off the mattress and to the window. The smudged glass paired too well with the black dark, and she couldn't see past her own nose. She could hear well beyond the gate however.

A streetlight shone on the grass near the tree by the gate. Two shoes walked underneath it casting a shadow to the west; the shadow of a person. Scotlynn couldn't tell if it was the same man she saw that afternoon, but his wild hair hinted the possibility. A hand was drawn to his mouth, then pulled back. He was out smoking again. A black jacket was draped over his shoulders and a scarf around his neck. It looked black too. Everything on him looked black from where she was.

He leaned against the tree with one foot crossed over the other. He seemed to be in thought. Scotlynn wondered if he was having trouble sleeping too. Perhaps smoking calmed his nerves in a way. If that's so, Scotlynn wanted to try them herself. Maybe he'd give her one...when no one was watching of course. Or he'd make her vanish if she got too close, and she didn't want to take that chance.

What would Eloise do?

The curtain was closed and the girl was swiftly returned to bed by a spindly woman behind her. A kind but firm face smiled back at her. "Now dear, it's past your curfew. Wouldn't want to miss out on sleep now, would we?" The thin smiling lips kissed her forehead and her tiny hands tucked her in.

Scotlynn said nothing as she left the room to check the others.

"Hut hut!" Grunts and thuds echoed across the yard from the pile of kids playing football. Feet flew, dust was kicked in eyes, and grass stained every article of clothing. Scotlynn watched from the bench by the sidewalk. It was short and a pale green, much like the children playing on the merry-go-round in front of her. But it gave her something to sit on rather than play a nasty sport, and that was much appreciated.

Scotlynn had never been outside this time of day before, and didn't quite know how to spend her time. She would have much rathered she stay inside, but her room was getting fixed up for her long stay until she moved floors again. She was almost forced outside by Mrs. Valerie, that spindly lady who rushed her to bed.

Scotlynn eventually did go to sleep, but not for long as the alarms went off shouting to wake up.

Jimmie had the football in her arms as she made her way down the field, almost meeting the ground more than once in a while. A couple of girls followed after, arms reaching out for a steal. When the feet of one collided with the feet of another, the whole group came crashing down in a cloud of dust and grass. Miss Atkinson, who was put in charge when Gertrude Grandall fell ill, came hobbling over to help them up, which only resulted in her falling on top of them. Scotlynn laughed so much she feared her side would burst. Eventually they all resumed their rightful stances and Scotlynn was bored again.

A stray piece of paper blew in the wind a few meters away, and stopped when it launched itself through a shrub. The girl's feet found their way over to it and it was soon clenched in her hands. Those hands folded the paper this way and that, something she taught herself. The piece of paper was turned into an airplane, one that Miss Earhart would be proud of.

Standing on the bench facing the gate, as the gate would create a barrier for the plane, she held it up and threw it against the wind. Little did she know that the wind was also against her.

The plane flew over the field, over the football players though they hardly noticed. A draft sent it upwards and it careened over the gate, tapping the metal as it crashed into the grass. The tip was bent, and the wing was torn from a stray wire of metal. Scotlynn ran over to retrieve it. Her arm snaked its way through an opening in the chains but her hand wasn't even close to her plane. Her struggling gained some attention from the other side and a man stepped out from behind the tree. The plane was picked up and handed to her through the chain. Scotlynn looked up at the man who she had seen out her window yesterday.

Twice.

"This yours?" he asked. His voice was like none that Scotlynn had ever heard. Even if he was the only man she had ever heard the voice of in her life. It was higher than she expected, and wasn't English at all. But something about its gentle tones encouraged her to take her plane.

Up close she could see his wild brown hair, his brown eyes, and every scuffle he'd survived on his face. The man stood up to return to his spot and his scarf almost blew off from the wind. That same leather jacket he wore the night before was still draped over his shoulders and he still had a cigarette between his fingers. Scotlynn couldn't help but watch the man with curious eyes. Once every few minutes he'd take a drag and a breath of smoke vanished in the wind a second later. His hair was curlier than she remembered, and his gait more exhausted than she expected.

Before she knew what was happening, the man had finished his cigarette and stomped it out with his foot before walking away. Scotlynn's voice called out to him, hoping to gain his attention. "Hey!"

It worked.

The man came back up to the gate and knelt down to Scotlynn, who was still on the grass. One hand gripped the chain while the other was crossed over his bent leg. "You need somethin'?" His expression held a slight frown, his hair in his face.

"What are you doing here?" Scotlynn asked bravely. The man shrugged.

"Dunno, usually jus' stop by for a break. Some fresh air." He glanced over her at the field and other children. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here."

"You live at school?" he asked with a slight smile.

"This isn't school," she answered. "It's an orphanage." Right away his smile dropped and so did his eyes. "We have a separate school here, I don't go there yet." The man cleared his throat and gave a sympathetic smile.

"An orphanage. Huh. Well I-I-I'm sorry to hear that." The man stood up to leave but Scotlynn pulled on his jacket.

"I just turned four yesterday."

"Oh! Happy birthday then." The man looked around the yard for a bit then looked down at the girl. "Who uh-who runs this place?" Scotlynn pointed at the pudgy woman behind her who was busy pushing the blonde at dinner on the swings.

"Miss Atkinson. She's a real funny lady." The man smiled.

"Oh, she tell any good jokes lately?" Scotlynn shook her head.

"No, not that kind of funny. I mean odd. You know, funny." The man nodded and looked over his shoulder. Scotlynn remembered the cigarettes he kept with him and brought out to this area. "Do you smoke a lot?" His hair brushed over his arm as he turned back around.

"What?"

"I saw you out my window yesterday and you were smoking by that tree. Why for?"

"Well it's been awful cold lately and it's only going to continue to get colder so I always warm myself up with one. Is this a restricted area or somethin'?"

"Not outside the gate." The man nodded. "So, you'll come back?" A glint shone in his eyes as he looked at her.

"Maybe. We're not staying here long, we've got work to do, then we'll be leaving for the rest of the world." A silence fell upon the two like the leaves from the tree. "I should really get goin', Miss Atkiny or whoever might not like me talkin' to you so well, I should probably go."

"Wait!"

"What?" he called back. Scotlynn was standing by now.

"What's your name?" The man stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Don't you got any friends you want to play with, any kids you hang out with?"

"Not really. I did in the nursery but I'm older now. These girls are all new." While Scotlynn held conversation with the man, Jimmie pulled herself off the ground and dusted herself off. One glance in her direction and she saw Scotlynn talking with someone she'd never seen before. A man nevertheless. Jimmie didn't like the looks of this man, and luckily he couldn't grab her through the gate. She watched from a distance to make sure.

"You wouldn't rather talk to them?"

"No, they'd rather play football." The man sighed and held out his hand for the girl.

"My name's Bon Scott, if you must know." Scotlynn shook his hand and gripped the chain links. "What about you?"

"Me?"

"You got a name, don't ya'?" Scotlynn debated with herself. She didn't want to tell him her real name, she hated it and wanted nothing to do with it. She also wasn't sure she could completely trust this man with any personal information about her. Any info like that was kept on the main floor with Miss Atkinson. "I told you mine, didn't I? Your turn." Scotlynn opened her mouth when a hand pulled her away from the gate.

She was dragged all the way to the shrubs then shoved down to the grass. A girl sat down next to her and put a hand over her mouth. "What in the sam hill are you doing? That man is a stranger, you can't talk to folks like him!" Scotlynn removed Jimmie's hand.

"He's not a stranger, his name is Bon Scott. I just met him today, and I was talking to him!"

"You told him your name too?"

"No! I was about to when you pulled me away!" Scotlynn huffed. Jimmie sighed and shook her head to move her hair from her face.

"I'm sure glad I did. Who knows what he was gonna do to ya'. I saw him reach at you through the gate, he coulda hurt ya'!" Scotlynn crossed her arms and turned away from Jimmie.

"He wasn't gonna hurt me! And I was shaking his hand, he didn't grab me!" Jimmie sat in a quiet hush as she watched her companion pout out her anger. A finger worked its way to her teeth and she picked out a piece of grass.

"Sorry, I didn't know. But you ought to be careful talkin' to men like that, no men work here and Penny Keyson said it's 'cause they like to pick on girls. Real little ones like us." The girl huffed at Jimmie. "Miss Atkinson wouldn't like you talkin' to him either."

"Well she didn't see me." She stood up from behind the bush and searched the gate by the tree. The man was gone. Three whistles blew and it was time to go inside.