Teach Me To Dance

Daphne’s P.O.V

I saw the outline of a person standing at the doorway that was filled with light. They switched the light on and yelled, ”Time to get up!” It was Rose. Rose was the orphanage mistress; some of the girls didn’t overly like her. Although, when you’ve been living here for eight years, you need to learn to get along.

The other three girls in my room got up with a bounce; it was adoption day. The reason I didn’t get up as quickly was that I have no hope of being adopted.

I am thirteen and have been living here in the Blossom Girls Orphanage (Victoria, Australia) for eight years since my mum committed suicide, and I never had a dad. My dad left just after mum got pregnant with me and this made her go through depression. Luckily, she was cured by the time I was born but the psychiatrist said it could come back at any time.

Just after my third birthday, my dad raped my mother when she was at a pub. After finding out she was again pregnant, this caused the depression to come back. She tried many times throughout the 40-week pregnancy to commit suicide, but failed every time. Just as she went into labor with my sister, Louise, she finally managed to commit suicide. When the doctors checked for a pulse, breathing and a heartbeat, they found the baby was still alive. The quickly gave the dead woman a caesarean and voilà, I had a sister.

On the will, it said her parents had full control over what happened with her possessions. Fortunately, my grandparents were lovely and intelligent. My sister and I lived with my grandparents 12 months until they both had a heart attack and were on the verge of dying. We went to the orphanage before they died, but not much before, only two months earlier.

They had a will more detailed than my mothers, thank goodness. It stated we were to go to the closet orphanage and all their possessions, except one to keep each, would be sold. I get the money on my 18th birthday. It also said that I have set aside 50% of all the money for Louise who get’s it on her 18th.

Okay, I don’t live the worst orphanage in the world, but sure as hell not the best either. We get to shower once a week, ALL our clothes are second hand, there is four to a bedroom, one bathroom, plus two extra toilets, three bedrooms, one computer, one mistress and a total of 12 girls.  

So. Adoption day. (Sunday). Whoop de doo… After getting up last I went to have a shower. We only get to shower for ten minutes once a week. I put on my old jeans, a purple and white stripe tee with my favourite brown pleather jacket. As part of my morning routine I went downstairs for breakfast, we had one piece of butter toast and a glass of water.

The doorbell rang and the first couple walked in the door. They were a middle age couple, probably of age 30 to 35 with excited looks on their faces. Thinking I would not be needed, I went upstairs to my bedroom to lie on my bed to sing songs that I make up on the spot and really popular ones. You know, the ones the radio stations seem to have on repeat and by the end of the day you know all the words.