City of Orphans by Avi

Author:Avi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atheneum Books for Young Readers
Published: 2011-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

41

Maks and Willa get home. They haven’t talked much. Just before they go up the stoop, Maks says, “I’m not gonna tell my parents ’bout Donck.”

“How come?”

“What if they tells me not to work with him?”

Willa says nothing.

“Told you,” Maks goes on, “they don’t feel good doing new things. If I don’t tell ’em, can’t say not to, right?”

After a moment Willa says, “I don’t know them.”

“Come on,” says Maks.

In the warm kitchen Papa is seated at the table, smoking his pipe. Mama is giving him dinner. Agnes ain’t there. Maks hears his three brothers fooling in the front room.

Mama says, “You’re home late tonight.”

“Papers took a long time,” says Maks. “But we sold everything.” He dumps his coins on the table, makes the usual divide, putting most of the pennies in his cigar box over the stove. He slides eight cents ’cross the table to Papa. “All eight,” he says.

“Good, Maks,” says Papa. “We need every one.”

“Where’s Agnes?” Maks asks.

“At class,” says Mama.

Papa turns to Willa. “Please, young lady, if you would be so good as to sit.” He puts a hand on the back of the nearest chair. “I should be pleased to talk to you.”

With a nervous glance at Maks, Willa sits with her doll and tin box on her lap. She looks down.

Papa pushes his soup bowl away and turns his chair so he’s facing Willa. “My wife,” he says to her, “tells me you’re going to live with us.”

Mama, at the stove, listens. So does Maks.

Willa peeks up at Papa. “Yes, sir. If . . . if that’s all right.”

“Your parents are . . . no longer with you,” Papa goes on. “Do I understand that properly?”

Willa swallows. “Yes . . . sir.”

“I’m truly sorry to hear it. I’m sure they were fine people. But it’s not right that a girl should be living alone on the streets. And now winter’s coming. So the whole family has agreed that you must come and live with us. We don’t have much, but we shall manage.” He holds out a large hand. “I wanted to welcome you.”

“Thank you, sir,” says Willa, her voice so low, Maks can hardly hear it.

Willa looks up, sees Papa’s hand, and puts out her own. She and Papa shake, Willa’s small hand swallowed up in his large one.

“I have a job, sir,” she says.

“Which is?”

“I pick rags at the dumps. Ten cents a week.”

Papa frowns, shakes his head. “No. No more of that. We’ll find something else for you to do. And I think it best you call me ‘Papa.’ And my wife, ‘Mama.’ It’s what all our children do. You’re family now. No need for ‘sir.’ ”

Willa bobs her head. “Yes . . . Papa.”

“As for sleeping,” says Papa, “we’ll find a spot.”

Mama says, “Agnes says you can share her bed.”

Willa looks at Papa. “You are very kind,” she whispers.

Maks, across the room, feels proud of his parents.

“Have you any belongings?” Mama asks Willa.

“Just these,” says Willa. She lifts the doll and the tin box.

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