CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

Charlotte Tweed woke up that morning, huddled in her narrow bed, looked around her dark, tiny bedroom, squeezed into the alcove off the kitchen, and knew for sure that trouble was coming. Charlotte had stayed out a whole hour later than she was allowed to the night before. It had been wonderful, but she knew she’d never get away with it. Charlotte’s foster mother, Ann, would make her pay. She always did.

She’d been given a stern warning the night before.

“If I let you go to the school concert, I want you home at seven on the dot. Not a second later,” Ann had declared.

Charlotte knew that Ann didn’t want her to go at all—didn’t want her to go anywhere—but she was forced to make an exception. Usually Charlotte was not allowed out of the house after six p.m, but to her amazement, Mr. Fielding, her music teacher, had called and spoken to Ann directly, practically insisting that Charlotte attend. It was the last thing Charlotte had expected.

When the call came, Charlotte had been in the kitchen, drying the supper dishes. She’d heard her foster mother pick up the phone, then start speaking in small, angry sentences. Finally, she banged the phone down and started muttering.

“My word, my word,” Ann fumed as she came dashing into the kitchen, as if something terrible had just taken place. “Why in the world would Mr. Fielding call me?” Her face darkened at Charlotte. “I’ve never had a teacher from school call me about any of my other foster children.”

Charlotte shrugged and said nothing, just kept drying the half cracked dishes and piling them into the rack.

Ann’s tight lips pursed together.

“It’s definitely irregular for Mr. Fielding to insist that you be at the school concert tomorrow night,” she said, looking entirely displeased. “I have no idea what difference it makes to him if you’re there or not?”

Mr. Fielding was the only kind-hearted older person Charlotte had met in years. For some reason he’d taken a liking to her. She couldn’t imagine why, either.

Of course, Ann didn’t like it, but she had no choice now. After all, Ann wasn’t the only one in charge of Charlotte. The school Charlotte went to had rules of its own.

“What are this man’s motives?” Ann repeated, wiping her long, trembly hands on her old fashioned paisley dress. “It’s out of order.” She stood before Charlotte in the kitchen grimly, waiting for an answer.

“Maybe because I’m in his music class,” Charlotte responded, hesitantly.

“But you’re not in the concert! You don’t play a thing. You’ve never even had a musical lesson,” Ann said to Charlotte scornfully.

“I sing along, sometimes,” Charlotte said, blushing. “And, Mr. Fielding has said I have a lovely voice.”

Ann’s face puckered, as though she’d bitten into a very sour lemon.

“I’ve heard you sing,” Ann tossed back. “It’s nothing special. In fact, it can even be downright nerve wracking and weird. Your foster sisters have told me that it makes their ears hurt when they hear you sing.”

Charlotte felt the old sadness coming over her. Wherever she went, whatever foster family she lived with, there was always something wrong with her. She hardly ever sang anymore, except very softly in her room where she was sure no one could hear. But when she did sing, her voice was penetrating, and often went through the walls.

Ann stood there, scrutinizing Charlotte closely, waiting for her to defend herself.

“The concert’s part of the school curriculum,” Charlotte said finally, “I guess I have to be there.”

It was a lame answer, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. She didn’t know why Mr. Fielding wanted her there, either.

“Well, you can only go if you absolutely

promise

to be home at seven on the dot. Not a second later,” Ann relented.

But Charlotte didn’t like making promises, especially to a foster mother. After all, she was almost fifteen years old and tired of taking orders by now. Why was it necessary to be home promptly at seven, anyway? What was so wrong with staying out later, enjoying a concert with the rest of the kids? Everyone would be there, including her new best friend, Hannah. They’d all be going out together afterwards, too. Of course, no one had invited her. Charlotte was new in this school, and so far, the kids didn’t much seem to like her, except for Hannah. Charlotte was grateful for that, anyhow. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d had some free time to spend with a friend.

Charlotte just turned her back, and went back to drying the dishes while Ann stood there, tapping her foot on the floor.

“Did you hear me, Charlotte? I said

Promise

!” Ann’s voice rose a pitch higher.

Charlotte dried the dishes harder.

“Are you listening to me or are you daydreaming again?” Ann was growing more frustrated. “Are you here with us, or in a different world?”

“I’m here with you,” Charlotte finally spun around. “I heard everything you said.”

“How can I know you hear me if you don’t answer?” Ann was as exasperated as Charlotte had ever seen. “Now, if you don’t

Promise

that you’ll be home exactly at seven, then I’m not letting you go to the concert at all.” At that Ann stamped her little foot on the old linoleum, kitchen floor.

This was the third foster home Charlotte had been sent to in the past four years. Something had gone wrong in every one of them. In the last one, she’d been so badly beaten up by her older, foster brother that the Director agreed to get her out of there. Some of the other foster children she knew were luckier. Some had been able to stay in one place for years - sometimes they even became part of the family. Charlotte had even heard of cases where someone was loved so much they were actually adopted. Right now, more than ever, Charlotte longed to have a family of her own, to find the place where she truly belonged. Of course this wasn’t it. Of that she was sure.

“Answer me, Charlotte!” Ann sputtered as her voice grew more nasal. “Am I talking to thin air?” Then she pulled a loose strand of her hair back into the tight bun she wore it in.

“I’m here,” said Charlotte, “I’m not thin air!”

Ann ground her heel on the floor.

“You’re a nasty, ungrateful, girl,” she said. “By now your sisters and I realize why you’ve been sent from one place to another.”

Ann had two natural daughters, Daisy and Pearl, fourteen and sixteen, and a natural, younger son who was sickly, Don. He was almost ten and spent most of his days home from school, in his pajamas, wheezing. The family had started taking in foster children after the father, Henry, had lost his job a few years ago and they needed additional income. They also needed additional help in the house. Having a foster child took the pressure off Daisy and Pearl, who hardly had any chores to do anymore. It also helped with the care of Don.

Ann stared at Charlotte through narrowing eyes and continued to speak.

“We never had a day of trouble with our last foster child, Brad. He was here four years until he outgrew the system. Brad was grateful for everything, said thank you for every last bite of food. We’re still in touch with him today. And you, from the beginning, have been nothing but a problem. We got a bad egg, for sure.”

Charlotte knew she’d better toe the line, or before she knew it, she’d be out looking for another foster home to live in. It didn’t look good, getting thrown out of one foster family after another. The system might even get tired of her and stop finding new places. Charlotte’s heart beat fast at the thought of it. It was almost not worth it to go to the concert, if she had to go through all of this first. But when you didn’t have a family of your own, and didn’t know who your real parents were, there was a price you had to pay for everything you got in this world. Charlotte had no choice but to pay it.

“I

promise

I’ll be home by seven,” Charlotte finally said.

She had to say it. What good would it do to get kicked out and have to start all over again? Who knew where she would be sent then?

Except for Ann’s fury when Charlotte was supposed to have time to herself, she wasn’t always this bad. Usually, Ann assigned Charlotte household chores to do, and then left her alone. Extremely alone. When dinner was done, Ann visibly turned her back to Charlotte as she sat on the dark green couch in the living room, whispering with Daisy and Pearl.

“You’ll be home at seven on the dot? You promise?” Ann repeated. “It’s not my job to sit here worrying about where you are.”

“I promise, I’m sure,” Charlotte bit her lip hard.

“Well,” Ann relented, “if you promise and if Mr. Fielding insists, then you can go.”

Charlotte heard from the tone of her voice how much Ann resented Mr. Fielding. She hated the idea that someone in this world actually cared about where Charlotte was and what she was doing. There were plenty of things Charlotte could have said in return, but she kept her full, pink mouth shut tight. Charlotte knew that Ann was suspicious of every move she made, and jealous of her, too. Neither of Ann’s daughters had Charlotte’s beautiful, natural, strawberry blonde curly hair or huge green eyes. Neither Daisy nor Pearl was as pretty or shapely as Charlotte was either. They certainly didn’t attract the same attention from boys. Naturally, Ann didn’t like that at all. She’d commented on it in all kinds of ways.

“Boys only want girls like you for one thing,” Ann said to Charlotte, over and over.

The very first time Ann said it, Charlotte got a chill. It was early in the morning, and Charlotte was getting dressed for school. Ann had come to the doorway of Charlotte’s tiny bedroom and stood there, looking her over.

“I don’t want you wearing those tight T shirts you brought with you anymore,” Ann said briskly, “not while you’re living in my house.” Then she handed Charlotte a bunch of second hand clothes that were baggy, wrinkled and washed out. “This is how a girl in my home dresses.”

Charlotte’s heart fell into her stomach. The clothes were awful. How could she wear them to school? They would make her into even more of an outsider and laughing stock than she already was.

“Daisy and Pearl don’t dress in anything like that,” Charlotte had said as Ann spread the awful clothing out on her bed.

Ann grew irritated.

“So what? You’re not Daisy or Pearl. What they wear is none of your business. They’re not sassy like you. They’re not tough. And most of all, they’re not as spoiled.”

Charlotte felt the last thing in the world she was, was spoiled.

“Your foster sisters have lived a plain, clean, good life here in Lincoln City, Nebraska. They’ve learned their manners right from the cradle. They know the difference between right and wrong. You haven’t been raised, you’ve been dragged up, going from home to home. God knows what people have done to you, God knows what they’ve taught you.” Then Ann shivered and took a deep, haughty, breath. “I don’t want you influencing my family in all the wrong ways.”

Charlotte wondered how she would be influencing Daisy and Pearl by just wearing decent clothes – the kind all the kids wore in high school. At least in her other foster homes decent clothes were provided. For a second, Charlotte wished she were back there.

“You’re lucky you’re here,” Ann swiftly added. “Finally, someone’s teaching you what it means to be a respectable young woman, making up for those bad, lost years.”

Lester, the small, scraggly, family dog, who looked like fleas had eaten his body, suddenly came bounding into the room. He ran to Charlotte, jumped up on her and began licking her hand.

“Get down from her, Lester,” Ann demanded.

Charlotte pet him gently as he licked.

Ann’s face grew hot and flushed. “Lester, if you don’t stop licking her, I’ll get the broom. Do you hear me? The broom!”

But Lester just turned to Ann and to Charlotte’s delight, snarled.

Now, this morning, Charlotte pulled on her old grey dress, brushed her swirling hair off her face, opened the bedroom door and slipped into the kitchen. She hoped nobody knew what had happened last night, that she’d gotten home ten minutes late. After the concert, she and Hannah had sat on the bench near the school, under an old tree, talking. It felt so good to talk to a friend that Charlotte hadn’t been able to tear herself away.

Now, it was early as usual. Every morning Charlotte was up an hour before everyone else, preparing the coffee, packing lunch sandwiches, making sure the kitchen floor was swept clean.

This morning, as soon as Charlotte got into the kitchen, Ann walked in. To Charlotte’s surprise, this time Henry, her husband, was right at her side. Ann’s face was flushed, and trembling with anger.

“You broke your promise,” was the first thing Ann said, breathing quickly.

“I’m here now,” said Charlotte, “right on time.”

“You promised you’d be home at seven last night! You weren’t. I waited for you and watched the clock. You’ve broken your word, betrayed us.”

“I was only ten minutes late,” Charlotte started to say.

Ann interrupted her swiftly. “Who knows what you were doing? Who knows who you were seeing, or what you were wearing? Did you change your clothes behind our backs?”

Henry, Ann’s husband, looked down at the floor. He was a weak man, afraid of wife, unable to say a word. A minute later, Daisy and Pearl came in, their arms around each other. Charlotte remembered seeing them last night, at the concert, sitting up front with the popular crowd. She suddenly wondered what time they’d come home? It didn’t matter, she swiftly remembered. They were natural daughters, she was not.

“Say something, Henry, don’t just stand looking at the floor,” Ann spoke to him furiously.

Henry hadn’t a thing to say.

Instead Pearl piped up, “I saw Charlotte after the concert. She was milling around.”

Pearl had short dark hair cut squarely around her face and hadn’t liked Charlotte from the first minute she saw her.

“Milling around with who?” Ann demanded.

“Milling around,” Daisy echoed as if it were the worst thing in the world. Daisy imitated everything about Pearl.

“We can’t allow that,” Henry finally said, not looking directly at Charlotte.

“Can’t allow what?” Charlotte asked.

“Milling around, breaking promises,” Ann took charge. “Everyone in town says there’s something odd about you. They were never sure it was a good idea for us to take you in at all. For all we know, you were spending time with the boys from the other side of town last night.”

Henry scraped his throat hard at that.

“I was spending time with my best friend, Hannah,” Charlotte insisted.

“What best friend?” Pearl piped up. “Hannah never once told anyone she’s your best friend. Anyway, she isn’t the kind to have a best friend. Hannah stays by herself all the time. You don’t have a best friend. No one likes you. Tell my mother the truth.”

Charlotte closed her eyes and let her mind drift away, far out of this room. The only way she knew how to survive at times like this, was to imagine she was somewhere else, was someone else, had people she loved close by, hovering around, somewhere. Now she imagined she was living with a warm family, who was happy she was there with them. She imagined she knew who her real mother was. She was a beautiful woman, with long, yellow, billowy hair, beautiful lipstick, lovely, pink nails. Her real mother was so happy to be with her true daughter.

Just then, the dog, Lester ran into the room and the little son, Don, sniffling and crying, came right behind him.

Lester ran over to Charlotte and so did Don.

“What are you doing up out of bed so early, Don?” Ann was appalled.

Lester kept licking Charlotte’s leg.

“Get away from her, Lester,” Pearl piped up.

Don looked at Charlotte and smiled. Charlotte and Don did well together. She looked after him in the late afternoons, read him books and told him adventure stories. Charlotte was kind to him and he felt it. Don didn’t feel so sick when she was close by. Now he reached for Charlotte’s hand and scowled at his father as Lester barked.

“Go back into bed, Don,” Henry said, reaching out for his son. “It’s too early for you to be up.”

“Leave Charlotte alone!” Don exclaimed.

“She’s turning our own son against us!” Ann began trembling . “She’s affecting our little child’s mind. We can’t allow that.”

Henry looked at Charlotte directly.

“Why did you break your promise to us?” he asked.

“It was only a few minutes,” Charlotte said quietly, “I needed time to talk to a friend.”

“She’s lying, Henry, I’m sure of it,” Ann broke in.

Henry, too, was now trembling. “Take this as a warning,” he said to Charlotte. “You’re here on probation now. These are hard times everywhere. In two days we’re starting to pack to move to a smaller house down at Winston and Breighton. We’re not even sure there’s room for you there, especially if you don’t behave!”

Winston and Breighton was in the middle of a tough and unruly neighborhood downtown, where most of the gangs were. Charlotte had heard the kids speak about it in school.

“You’re on probation, probation,” Daisy echoed.

“If you behave, we may be able to find a spot for you to sleep in the attic,” Ann chimed in. “But only if you obey every single word. If you pass probation one hundred per cent.”

Henry seconded it.

“One more lie or act of disobedience and we’ll have to call the Director to find another foster home for you.”

At that Lester jumped higher up on Charlotte’s leg, licked her hand another time, and then turned to Henry, baring his teeth.

Charlotte’s head was spinning. Sleep in an attic in a smaller house in Winston and Breighton? She knew she couldn’t do it. She knew that, somehow, she had to get out of this place.