Dirt by Denise Orenstein

Author:Denise Orenstein
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2017-09-17T04:00:00+00:00

When I locked myself in the foster bathroom the next morning, I just wanted a little bit of privacy for a few minutes of weeping. It was hard being an underwater girl far away from shore, and I was struggling as hard as I could to stay afloat without anyone knowing I was drowning. And I couldn’t let myself drown, although that might have been easier—I had to be on alert at all times. Figuring out an escape plan for me and a rescue plan for Dirt wouldn’t be easy.

I missed Dirt so much that my throat hurt. I couldn’t bear to think about what might happen to him if I didn’t do something and do it quick. I usually wasn’t much of a crybaby, but I wept and wept in the cramped foster bathroom that morning. And I couldn’t seem to stop.

So I wasn’t pleased to hear Mrs. Prattle interrupt my private time with her cloying voice. Wouldn’t you know that she’d pick the very worst moment?

“Yonder, dear,” Mrs. Prattle called from the other side of the door. “Everything okay in there?”

Everything was not.

“You have a visitor, dear. Someone to see you. Please come downstairs.”

Visitor? I took a deep breath. Who in the world could be visiting me? Had my father come to finally bring me home again?

I wiped my nose on my shirtsleeve and flung open the bathroom door, then quickly followed Mrs. Prattle downstairs to the foyer. My heart was racing and I thought I might combust. But when I reached the living room, it wasn’t my father waiting for me at all, but a round, short woman wearing a magenta hat with two stupid pom-poms.

Forget it.

I certainly wasn’t interested in seeing her. I certainly wouldn’t even bother. But before I could turn around and bolt, I felt Mrs. Prattle squeeze my arm.

“Isn’t it nice that Ms. Trumpet has taken the time to come see you, Yonder, dear? Isn’t that just lovely? Now, why don’t we all sit down together in the living room and have a nice chat with your friend?”

Mrs. Prattle caught sight of my expression. “Now, Yonder, dear, let’s not be rude, shall we? Mind your manners. Come along, dear; after all, Ms. Trumpet has taken the trouble to travel across town just to see you.”

My whole body itched. For a minute I thought that I might just squirm out of my own skin. Who the heck cared if Trudy Trumpet traveled across town, or anywhere else for that matter?

“Yonder?” Mrs. Prattle raised one eyebrow, and I noticed the teacup she was holding rattled on its plate. “Yonder, let’s remember that Ms. Trumpet is a very busy woman and that it was very kind of her to take the time to visit you.”

When you’re a foster child in a foster house, you don’t really have any choice in any matters, so sit down we did: Trudy the Terrible, Mrs. Prattle, and Yonder, dear.

It was clear from the start that Trudy had trouble talking. She looked at me, glanced down at her plump hands, looked up again, and began to stutter.

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