A girl called...

Birthdays

You might have wondered when I would mention this. It isn't certain, but I think it was on May the 31st. It is odd every time it comes , knowing I might be celebrating the wrong day, and it doesn't feel right!

Imagine not knowing who you are, when were born,even, add pain to this - that is how I feel every night. We don't get a cake or presents, just a nod from Adam, the snarly administrator(if he remembers). He is the one who yelled at my mother , twelve years ago. The matrons are cruel as usual, spanking us daily- nothing could soften them. If you were lucky, Cook Mattie might give you less fatty pork, but it is horrible anyway. None of the other orphans are nice; you'd think they might understand how you feel, but none do! They steal your spoons just for the sake of it, not that they dont have their own! One girl, Gertie, the bully, calls every no name a loner! Lie- she just calls me that- I'm the only one.

It is my birthday today, I am 12. I will go through the normal birthday ruitine once more. I rub my emerald eyes and pull the sticky, hot sheets off my body. Im wearing my best spotty pajamas, my only pair that don't cling, and my blonde hair falls behind me as I flip it back. It is only 6:00 but everyone is already awake. The rows of children are all pulling on their Sunday bests, ties for the boys, pleated skirts for the girls. We don't even go to church, we aren't even religious, but we do it any way.

My clothes are neatly folded up in piles. I peer at my flat chest, sigh, and reach for my grey vest. In ten minutes I am dressed, so I pad over to the stone stairs. As I pass Adam, who has clearly forgotten, I am shoved. I lose footing and I tumble down the the steps , sniggers as I plod down. I reach the bottom of the stairs and land uncomfortably by Matron Tippert's brown shoes. I smile meekly,at her fat ,pink, face. Her eyes bead and she steps over me. A roar of laughter spreads, all directed at me.

Cook Mattie is dancing about to her wireless as she throws bread at our plates carelessly. She remembers, I can tell because my bread has been buttered .I smile to myself, when cook suddenly yells "Stop a smirkin you li'l varmin!'" She makes me jump and my bread flies up into the air and lands on her face! My jaw drops and I try to look shamefully guilty, to stop myself giggling and telling her that bread is not a good look on her... I hold back the temptation. Her nostrils flair and she shakes her head angrily. I gulp - this means she is angry, but she just peels it off her face, clenches her fists and stomps away. Some of the the girls are whispering now. I hold my head high and leave the table .

I storm up the stairs, and lay flat on my bed. I feel a sharp pain on my rear... Old Tippett is doing her rounds. She slaps me sore until I feel like crying, but I can't , if we react they do it more. The pain is unbelievable.

She finally leaves and I tell myself stories till lunch. I take a breath and and run to the dining hall as the hour bell rings.I realise the atmosphere is very tense. I hiccup and everyone flinches. What was up with every body? What of a birthday was this?