Eleanor Jones - Footprints in the Sand

That was the last time I cried because my crossness came to soak up the tears. Being angry felt better than being sad, so I clung to it as tightly as I could.

I knew they were going to send me away. Victoria wouldn’t let me stay with Ted, and Mr. and Mrs. Mac didn’t like me anymore, so a lady came from somewhere called the authorities. Her name was Susan and she had very shiny hair. I didn’t like her much, but then again I didn’t like anyone anymore, so I just stopped talking and tried to build a wall around me.

* * *

I DON’T REMEMBER MUCH about the first place they sent me to. There was a tall smiley man, who tried to be nice, but I wouldn’t talk to him. And a big boy who pinched me when no one could see, but he couldn’t make me cry. And then they sent me somewhere else. “Somewhere better equipped to deal with you,” Susan said.

She came for me. I dug in my heels and refused to go, but the tall man picked me up and put me in Sarah’s car. She kept talking to me on the drive, but I stared out the window, wishing and wishing that everything could be like it used to. Oh, why couldn’t my dad have been an angel?

* * *

A LADY WITH GRAY HAIR and gray eyes dragged me through a hallway. I stomped on the wooden floor. I liked the sound, so I stomped even harder.

“Shush, child,” she said. “We don’t like rowdy children here.”

There were lots of tables and a sea of faces all staring at me, smiling and whispering. I wanted to go home so much, home to how things used to be.

“This, children,” announced the gray lady, “is Elsa May Malone. I hope you will all make her very welcome.”

I knew they wouldn’t. No one made me welcome anymore, for no one liked me. I closed my eyes and searched for my lump of crossness, the anger that kept any other emotion away. I didn’t care... I didn’t care... I didn’t care. When I opened them again, a boy stood in front of me. His eyes were very warm and he smiled at me.

“I’m Bryn,” he said.

I turned to run away but the gray lady grabbed my arm.

He repeated his name, holding out his hand. It was slim and brown and he held it very straight. I wanted to take it but my crossness wouldn’t let me, so I pulled away, clutching my hands tightly against my chest.

“We have ice cream,” he said, turning away. “You can sit next to me.”

The boy’s words went around and around inside my head. I had somewhere to sit, someone who wanted me to sit with him. I followed him slowly, clinging to him like a shadow. Everyone smiled at him, even the gray lady they called Mrs. Dibble, and I sat right beside him and ate ice cream. Here, I decided, is where I’m going to stay.

* * *

BRYN NEVER ASKED ME anything about myself.

“You can tell me when you’re ready, Emm,” he told me. He always called me Emm because of my initials, Elsa May Malone.

I had always wanted a dog, and we often talked about that.

“We’ll have a big yellow one like this,” he promised, showing me some pictures he had printed off the computer—Bryn was good at working the computer. “When we’re all grown-up, we’ll have a golden retriever.”

I nodded, smiling for the first time in ages because Bryn still wanted to be with me when we were grown-ups, and because we were going to get a dog.

My crossness faded just a little, and I decided to follow him always. I was scared, though, because Bryn didn’t know that everyone close to me eventually changed into something horrid. I didn’t want my Bryn to change and I couldn’t tell him about my fears. Perhaps if I didn’t let him all the way into my life, if he didn’t know me well enough, then he would stay the same.

At Appletree we were all in the same class, from five-year-olds right up to the big kids who would soon be moving on. I wanted to know where they moved on to, but I didn’t ask.

Bryn was nine years old; he had his birthday the day after I came to Appletree. So would he move on soon? I wondered. The thought ate at me like a disease, filling my dreams. If only I could ask him. I tried, I really tried, but the anger inside me got in the way of my tongue. When the social worker tried to make me talk, sometimes my words came out in a scream. But I never screamed when Bryn was there. He was my friend. My friend. I hugged that thought close to me, even though I knew we could never be proper friends. So I just listened to the things he said, hardly ever responding but hanging on to his every word so I could remember them later when I was alone in my bed.

He looked at me sometimes with a hurt expression, but I knew holding back was the only way to keep things as they were. It was all a waste of time, though, for eventually it wasn’t Bryn who changed, but my whole world.

* * *

MRS. DIBBLE CALLED US to the dining room midmorning. We were in class, and Bryn was helping me cut out pictures from the computer and stick them in a book. The heading on the front of it was Things I Love, but the only pictures I wanted to put in it were of dogs. Dogs loved you but never asked questions, Bryn said, and nothing in my life was more certain than the fact that one day I would have a dog of my own. Bryn felt the same way. And he wanted the same dog as me.

“Children!”

Mrs. Dibble banged on the table with a spoon and we all looked up.

“Into the dining room now, please.”

We filed through cautiously, aware of the strained look on her gray face and the faint tremble in her high-pitched voice.

When she told us, when she made the announcement that was to change all our lives, I felt sick. For the first time ever I broke my own rule, taking hold of Bryn’s hand and curling my fingers around his. He held them very tightly as the news sank in. Appletree House was shutting down, and we would all be moving on to new places. But we mustn’t worry, Mrs. Dibble said. They would be very nice homes.

Where was my anger? I searched my soul for it, but all I could find was sorrow. Suddenly, out of the blue, my world was tumbling down yet again. Was it my fault, then? Was it because I had grown to like this place?

I didn’t want to face the idea that we would have to be parted, so I tried to imagine us moving on together, all the children from Appletree House, and even Mrs. Dibble.

I had come to rely on the gray lady’s firm rule. “Harsh but fair,” Bryn said, and that was true enough. At least it had been until now. There was nothing fair about taking away our home. Bryn stuck up for her, though. He said it wasn’t her fault. He must have been right, for on that last morning she looked like a ghost who had lost its way. She walked quickly out of the room as soon as she’d spoken to us. I can’t remember what she said.

Susan, the social worker with the shiny straight hair, stood at the end of the long dining room, right where I’d stood all those months ago. She had a clipboard in her hand—Susan liked carrying clipboards. I think it made her feel important. Mrs. Dibble didn’t need anything to make her feel that way.

“These are unfortunate circumstances, children,” Susan told us. “I have the unenviable task of informing you all where you’ll be moving and I want you to know that we’re all trying to do our very best for you.”

I felt Bryn quiver beside me. I wanted to take hold of his hand again, but I didn’t.

“Billy Sharp, you—” she squinted at her clipboard “—will go to Long Meadows. It’s a nice family house near Lancaster, a place for older children. Four of you are moving there.”

She glanced at her clipboard again.

“Ashley Gibb, Tom Bradley and...”

My heart wrenched, sensing something bad that I was still unaware of.

“The fourth lucky child going to such a nice place will be...” She looked straight at me.