Sing For Hope

Chapter One: New Start

Have you ever had someone leave you? I have. They were my own parents. I was born, and they just gave me up. I never found out why. Now I’m living in an orphanage while having the pressure of getting adopted. You see, the orphanage has a unique way of adopting children here. You have to sing for the people who want you. That’s why I have panic attacks all the time.

Let me tell you my story. Let me tell you why I hate being me.

My name is Carol. That’s it. I have no last name because my birth parents dropped me off at the front doors of the orphanage and drove off. I am twelve years old now and live in Newark, Delaware. The orphanage is somewhat nice, the kids aren’t very mean and at least the place is neat. My caretaker and director, Ms. Schlem,  never bothers to contact my biological parents merely because she claims it to be “unnecessary.” Sometimes I talk to her because she is one of the only people I can talk to in the choir, and when I bring up my parents, she has the same automatic response: “They put you here for a reason. All that matters now is who wants to take you.” She's said it so many times, it's almost embedded into my tiny skull.

Years after arriving at the orphanage, I started to enjoy it. Well, not exactly enjoy it, I more of just got used to it. The kids aren’t mean to me or to the majority of the kids here. I didn’t like the food at first. But over time, the taste of greasy pizza and bland cereal stuck to me.

When I was four, I was put into my first classroom. That’s where I met my best friend of eight years, John. He would be the only person I would hang out with during recess. I find it funny how I’ve changed from back then to today.

When I was first put into that kindergarten class, I would do nothing but sit in the space between the desk and bookshelf and read. He didn’t notice me at first, but as time went on, he opened up. Less than a week later, he pulled me out of my hiding place and talked with me. I never went in there again after that.

I first joined the choir program three years later. Yes, John was still with me. I still remember the first time he sang alone; his voice was so sweet and elegant. His voice reminded me of a small dove, gently drifting through the sky, humming its beautiful morning song. I tried my hardest to be just like him at the time, but my shy voice just didn’t break.

One year later John got moved out of my choir class. I asked him why, and he said he didn’t know. He told me not to get upset because He knew we would still see each other. After he left, I wouldn’t even sing at all. I had no courage because I had nobody to impress anymore. I would only lip sync, and thus, I was never adopted.

I got moved to another ward in the orphanage at ten years old, the year I started sixth grade. Moving to another ward meant that I would also move from the children’s choir, to the middle school choir ensemble, or the more advanced choir. I met new people there, most of them forgettable. But of course, John was still there. I was happy.

Things just stayed the same after years went by, I admired John for his lovely talent while I still couldn’t find mine. I found more safety and comfort in the orphanage, despite having to live with hundreds of other children who also did not have homes. And even though some of them I hate to my sour core, I still find comfort.