American Girl

Missouri

Flick Masters admired her older brother. He had brought them from their Ohio orphanage to St. Joseph, Missouri, without getting them into too much trouble. Jas protected her from the moment she could first remember things clearly. Their parents died of consumption when they were very young. Unable to recall them, she knew only the nuns at the orphanage.

Prospective parents came and went. While Felicity and James grew older, other children went to new homes and started new lives. For some reason, they remained unwanted. Perhaps people didn't want to adopt two children together. Or maybe they were too old. The women who came to look always wanted infants or toddlers. James was sixteen, and Flick was fifteen when they headed out alone.

At first, their escape was an adventure. The brother and sister journeyed under cover of night, sheltering beneath towns' wooden sidewalks or under hedges during the day. They survived by stealing their food and swiping clothing from wash lines behind farmhouses. As time passed, the thrill faded. Flick's thoughts turned to her warm bed at the orphanage and the laughter of the other children. The dusty roads stretched with only Jas as her constant companion.

"Where are we headed?" she asked one morning. They'd stolen a slab of bacon from a butcher and had stopped to eat at a pond in a hollow. The frying bacon smelled good to a girl who hadn't eaten much during the last few days.

"California, I suppose," Jas answered, his voice uncertain. He poked at the meat in the stolen frying pan with a stick.

"It's a long way to California," Flick complained, removing her brogans and rubbing her feet. "There are blisters on my blisters. Haven't we walked far enough?"

"Maybe," Jas conceded, shrugging. "I'll think about it."

"Where are we now?" his sister asked, glancing at the landscape surrounding them. It all started looking alike miles back.

"Missouri, I supposed," James guessed. In truth, he didn't know where they were, but he didn't want to admit they were lost.

"Missouri sounds nice." Flick sighed. Anyplace would sound nice if she could sleep inside on a bed with clean sheets and a mattress that smelled of fresh straw. She would like a bath, clean clothes, and a glass of new milk straight from the cow.

"Sounds like misery to me," Jas grumbled. "Do you want to live in misery all your life?"

"Missouri, Jas, not misery." Felicity curled her legs beneath her bottom and stared into the crackling fire. "It's one of the three Miss states: Mississippi, Missouri, and Misconsin."

James's brow furrowed as he tried to interpret her statement. He rarely paid attention in school but knew something was wrong with the states she mentioned. The bacon snapped in the pan, and he removed it, portioning it out for both. They ate silently. Finally, he understood her mistake.

"Wisconsin, stupid," he yelled triumphantly, "not Misconsin."

Flick began to protest. She knew there were three Miss states. Sister Mercy had shown them to her on the map, and she recalled the nun pointing to them. Sister Mercy was kind and always willing to explain difficult questions after class. Flick had remained behind to talk to her. The map was on Sister Mercy's desk, and she named the Miss States for her. Then she remembered that Sister Mercy corrected her, too.

"Wisconsin," she stated, slowly drawing the word out. "That's right. It's Wis, not Miss."

Flick sat on the ground with her legs curled beneath her. Her trousers were stained, and her shirt was torn in several places. She wore her long hair tucked beneath a cap. Jas thought it better if she pretended she was a boy. If the Ohio authorities searched for them, they would look for a brother and sister, not two youths.