The Mis-Wish

Chapter One

            The heavy footsteps coming up the stairs could be heard throughout the house. I sat up groggily, leaning against the wall behind my bed. Or should I say board. The girls on either side of me get up as well. Once the click-clack of the Gator's heels penetrate through our sleepiness, we scramble about the tiny room changing from our sleeping rags to our school rags. Once the chaotic scene was over, we stand along the wooden wall next to our hooks, as tall and straight as we could manage. Miss Geeter was always one for organization, and this was just one example of that. She barged into the room, the knob of the flimsy door smacking into the already formed hole in the wall and sticking. Her speed decreased as she slowly walked past each of us, resembling an army general. The Gator would pull at clothing, tug at hair, and check our teeth. Once she passed a girl, she would go right to the next one and start again. The smallest girl was the first to be scrutinized, as she was every morning. When her appearance was approved of, she ran to the other side of the room, waiting to be dismissed. Miss Geeter walked on down the line, and before long, I was the only girl left on my side. The Matron stepped up to me, and a sense of panic fluttered in my stomach. This happened every morning, she would pull and tug relentlessly, then look over me and sneer, "I wish I could do more for you, but it would seem that your parents did not bother to gift you with looks," then stalk to the door and dismiss us.

She had her games to play with each and every one of us and this was the way she hoped to embarrass me. At first, the other girls were shocked that she would say such a thing. No one laughed, not even Eight who would normally take any chance to get under my skin. We all decided from the beginning that we're all scrambling on the same boat trying to avoid the Gator's endless snapping. Any form of bullying from her was just ignored, by all of us. So we all just stood there like every other morning. She seemed a little frustrated at first, so to get back at us, she said the same cruel words everyday. Now it was just another part of our morning routine.

I followed the march of girls out the door who waited at the edge of the stairs for me. I, being the oldest, was to lead the orphans to our hole-in-the-wall school. If it were up to Miss Geeter, we wouldn't even get an education, but the government of course interfered and set up a schoolhouse for us down the street. Our teacher was a very nice lady, who was sympathetic to our situations. She understood we would be punished if anyone was given a name, so she numbered us. I was Three, because I was the third child to be entered into this school. Ms. Mac greeted us as we walked in.

"Good morning Three."

"Morning," I responded.

"Has she given up yet?" she asked.

"No." She sighed and turned to Six who was standing behind me. I walked to the front row, then down three spaces to my seat. I stood behind it, stomach rumbling, waiting for the rest of the girls before sitting. Ms. Mac was sweet, but she ran a strict schooling system.

"You may be seated," she announced as we pulled out our chairs and sat down. Ms. Mac was at the bookshelf pulling out our textbooks.

We stepped into the quiet dormitory, and split up at the entrance. Half of us would make dinner, while the other half would do the dishes afterward. I was in charge of cooking, while Eight, the second oldest, would make sure the dishes were cleaned. I started toward the kitchen when I was stopped by my so-called Mother.

"Mr. O'Donnell came today. I've already sorted your rations, don't dare go in my pantry," she glared at me with a sickening grin.

"Yes ma'am. Anything else?" I asked, weary of her unusual smile.

"The kitchen has taken quite a beating. The stove may need to be replaced." Miss Geeter's eye twinkled maliciously as she slithered past me to escape to her lair, I'm sorry, room.

My face fell even further if possible as I walked into the kitchen and saw the sight before me. On any other day I wouldn't say it was a particular delight to cook in the dark, moldy space that smelled no matter how often we scrubbed every surface in the room. Turning on the light now however had eyes popping open in amazement at the mess Geeter and her latest friend had created.

Cabinet doors hung off their hinges, pots teetered on the edge of the counter and spilled onto the tiles below, the lone picture in the whole house was practically flipped upside-down by how much it tilted. I gasped as I saw the table the twelve of us took turns sitting at leaned on the floor, the three legs it now had refusing to carry its weight. I moved in front of the little girls before they could step on the broken plates and glasses covering the floor.

I take a deep breath, Miss Geeter never made anything easy for us, not in the slightest, but this time she's made sure to make it impossible to even cook our measly dinner.

"Okay girls, let's not let this get to us." I need to stay strong. Their terrified little faces look up to me, "Go play upstairs, Eight and the other big girls will help me tonight." I shoo them up the stairs and head to the washroom to find Eight slopping another load into the laundry.

"Hey, it's really bad in there, I'm going to need you to get Ten and Nineteen and help in the kitchen tonight." I look at her, pleading for her to not make this any harder than it needs to. Ten and Nineteen walk into the room then and having heard what I just said cock their heads at me. Eight goes to put soap in the washer before turning back to me with a blank stare.

"Did you forget how to set the table? Cups on the right, napkins on the left," Eight rolls her eyes before training them on her little helpers. "You two go, there's still a lot to do in here." She knows I wouldn't ask if I didn't need to and I'm thankful she's being somewhat reasonable tonight. I almost feel bad leaving her alone to tend to our torn dresses, but she has it easy tonight.

I leave with Ten and Nineteen on my tail. They keep asking me what's going on, but in order to understand they need to see what's happened first. We walk in to see Seventeen and Nine sweeping the glass into the small trashcan, the room still otherwise trashed. While this isn't the first time Geeter has expressed her lack of respect for this place, it has never looked as tragic as it does now. Nineteen looks on in shock but rushes to help clear the glass, the worst offender at the moment.

"Good start girls. Once that's picked up we can see what we can do about the rest of the kitchen."

Our dinner time has been extended by two hours, but we can at least comfortably sit and stand around our small table which has been turned and propped in the corner so the walls can support the legless side. I made sure to disinfect the table twice to clear my conscious that a five year-old is eating on a surface which Miss Geeter has so recently defiled. We had resolved to completely remove the cabinet doors so they were no longer dangling over the cooking space, and the pots and pans were piled neatly awaiting a wash. Six and Seven were angry that their spaces at the table had been taken by the peeling wallpaper, but I explained to the twins that they would have to wait for the other girls to finish or else they were welcome to join us bigger girls at the counter. They reluctantly walked toward me and set their dishes next to mine. I sigh as I remember when I lost my spot at the table. I was eight, but the new girls were younger and I gave my seat to them. We grow up too early here. Ten year-old sisters should be having fun, not eating at the "grown-up" counter.

 

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Thanks for reading! I'm really excited to see where I'll be taking this book, and where it will be taking me hahaha. I'd love some feedback, but I know there isn't much to say yet. Don't worry, something interesting is coming next!!

                                                                           <3 Ashley :D