Forgotten

Chapter 2

            ONCE WE GET OUT ONTO THE STREET, it's less crowded—everyone is heading in different directions. I still hold Hayley's hand. Even when we've turned down so many side streets that we're the only ones on the road, we don't say anything. Hayley doesn't complain once, even though the walk home is a mile and a half.

            I feel almost ashamed as we reach our old house. It's a small farm, like all the homesteads in the western territories, and has stood for decades. As a result, it's in disrepair. The porch steps are frayed and bleached, with holes bearing evidence to the existence of termites that have eaten through the wood over the years.

            Liana shoves the house key into the door's rusty lock and jiggles it. After a few turns, the stubborn lock finally gives way. Liana holds the door open for us. "I'll go around to the back and start on the farm work," she says. "You show Hayley around the house, and then we can take her to meet the animals." She smiles down at Hayley. "We've got chickens and a cow."

            Liana heads off to change, and I lead Hayley to the tiny kitchen. "Well, this is where we eat," I tell her. I gesture to the stove. "That's our oven, and we use it as a burner, too. During winter, it's nice to keep warm by it."

            I show her the kitchen table, the sink, and our tiny pantry. Afterwards, I take her down the short hallway to our bedrooms. Each homestead has two medium-sized bedrooms—one for the older children, fourteen years and older, and one for the younger children. I realize that Hayley won't have any roommates, and I doubt she's ever slept in a room alone before. But Hayley seems like she can handle herself, and Liana and I will be right next door if anything happens.

            There are two small twin beds in Hayley's room, complete with clean white sheets and a pillow each. The walls are pale pink—this homestead, as well as the neighboring ones, were designed for girls.

            Hayley looks around the room, then at me.

            "Hayley, don't you have any...any things? Like...clothes, or a hairbrush?"

            Hayley shakes her head.

            I'm totally confused. Did I miss something that Jacklin said about Hayley's belongings? I have to admit, I've never put much thought into the cost of an Assignment child. Surely Liana and I can't be expected to raise her on our meager funds alone.

            I watch Hayley stare around the room. She looks a little lost—the first real emotion I've seen in those beautiful blue eyes so far. Her back is to me, so I step forward and gently place my hands on her shoulders.

            "Don't worry," I say. "You'll get used to it quickly. This is your new home."

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            After Hayley has seen the house, I take her outside to where Liana is feeding the chickens. Liana has changed into working clothes and an apron, and her boots crunch on the dirt and grass as she scatters corn feed on the ground. Our four chickens squawk excitedly at the sight of food, nearly bowling each other over in an attempt to get the most corn. The smallest one, a hen I named Jenny, gets knocked aside by our rooster and stands resignedly to the side as the three others feast. Liana laughs. "Come on, silly," she says to Jenny, holding out a handful of corn. Jenny waddles over and pecks at Liana's hand.

            Liana turns to us. "Do you want to feed her?" she asks Hayley kindly. "Jenny's the calmest one." She holds out a handful of corn.