Forgotten

Chapter 12

          "COME ON, HURRY!" LIANA'S LONG BLACK HAIR flies as she rushes to tidy up our bedroom. "Stella, I can't do this by myself. Quick, before Maisie and Janelle come!"

            I pick up my newly washed and folded laundry from where it's lying on my bed and quickly hang each article up in the closet. Liana and I make our beds, smooth our dresses, and walk outside. Janelle is at the donkey's stall, shoveling manure out and fresh straw in. Trying very hard not to be noticed, Liana and I pick our way towards the chicken coop, which still hasn't been tended this morning.

            But we're too late. Janelle straightens up to her full height, probably close to six feet, and marches over, an annoyed look on her pudgy face. Liana flinches, looking scared.

            "You're late," she growls. "What kept you?"

            "We were cleaning our bedroom, Janelle," Liana says after a long pause. "We'll be faster next time, I promise."

            Janelle looks less then satisfied, but her gaze soon swings over to me. "Hey, you, new girl!" Janelle pokes me in the chest, and I stumble backward. "You got anything to say to me?"

            "My name's Stella." The fierceness in my voice surprises me, and I realize that my fists are clenched at my sides. I release them immediately. What good are they against a huge girl like Janelle?

            There is a long silence. Then, almost when I think Janelle's going to let it go and walk away, I feel a huge force connect with my jaw, sending me sprawling across the yard. Pain shoots up my face, and I press my hand to the aching bone, sobbing. It takes me a moment to realize that the force was Janelle's well-aimed punch.

            "I don't take cheek from anyone, girl," Janelle snarls. "Especially not Assignment scum like you."

            The back door slams, and I look up to see Maisie, the sixteen-year-old girl nearly as big as Janelle, lumbering out into the yard. She eyes Liana and me disdainfully. "What've they done now?" she demands of Janelle.

            "Just the norm," Janelle replies.

            "You," Maisie says, looking down at me with disgust. "Get up."

            I scramble to my feet. I know how filthy I must look. Dirt covers my back, arms, and legs, and I'm sure the bruise from Janelle's fist is already beginning to discolor my face.

            "Every day, you'll clean the chicken coop every day and collect the eggs with Liana," Janelle says, stepping forward and leaning on her upside-down pitchfork. "You'll do the housework, too—washing dishes, sweeping, dusting, tidying. If you don't, Maisie and I will beat you so hard you'll never know what hit you. Got that?"

            "Yes," I whisper.

            "Yes, what?"

            "Yes, Janelle."

            Maisie walks to the other side of the donkey's stall. When she comes back, she's holding two dirty rags and a pail of water. She tosses the rags carelessly into my face and shoves the heavy pail into Liana's arms. Liana, thrown off by the weight of the bucket, stumbles backward and nearly drops it, sloshing soapy water all over her apron.

            I help Liana haul the bucket over to the chicken coop. When we get to the wire mesh cages, Liana shows me how to get the chickens out. I see the tenderness light up her eyes as she gently reaches into the coop and coaxes each chicken out, pulling gently with her hands and speaking softly to them.