The Orphan Collector. Ellen Marie Wiseman

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СКАЧАТЬ He was out of breath, his face red and his hair disheveled.

      “Your girlfriend was giving us the stink-eye,” Mary Helen said.

      “She’s not my girlfriend,” Finn said.

      “Shut up, Mary Helen,” Pia said.

      Mary Helen ignored her and glared at Finn. “I just wanna know one thing. What would your mother think if she knew you were friends with a filthy Hun, ’specially with your older brother over there fighting to keep you safe?”

      Pia bounced to her feet. “Take that back!”

      Mary Helen’s head snapped around and she gaped at Pia, shocked to hear her standing up for herself. “What’d you say?”

      “I said take it back!”

      Mary Helen held up her bony fists. “You want a fat lip to go with that stink-eye, scaredy-cat?”

      “Jaysus,” Finn said. “In the name of all that’s holy, shut up, Mary Helen. You’re not gonna fight.”

      “Oh yeah?” Mary Helen said. Suddenly her hand shot out and grabbed the front of Pia’s dress. She yanked Pia forward and pushed her contorted face into hers, the stench of garlic and onions wafting from the bag around her neck almost making Pia gag. Thinking only of escape, Pia grabbed Mary Helen’s wrist with both hands and tried to pull her off. A quick stab of pain twisted in her chest, sharp and immediate, and she gasped, unable to get air. She let go of Mary Helen’s wrist and tried to step away, suddenly disoriented and dizzy. Finn pried Mary Helen’s fist from Pia’s dress, moved Pia behind him, and stood between them. Pia sat down hard on the ground and tried to catch her breath.

      One of the teachers hurried over. “What in heaven’s name is going on over here?” she said. It was Miss Herrick. She towered above them, willowy as a flower stem.

      “Nothing, ma’am,” Mary Helen said. “You must be balled up. We were just playing a game.”

      “Well, it doesn’t look like a game to me,” Miss Herrick said. “You and your friends run along now, Mary Helen, and leave Pia alone.”

      Mary Helen harrumphed, but did as she was told. The other girls followed, their faces pinched.

      “Are you all right, Pia?” Miss Herrick said. She bent down to help her up, reaching for her arm.

      “Don’t touch me,” Pia said, louder than intended.

      Miss Herrick gasped and clapped a hand to her chest.

      Pia instantly regretted her outburst. The last thing she needed was to get in trouble at school. Mutti would never understand. She got up and brushed off her dress. “I’m sorry, Miss Herrick,” she said. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I was frightened, that’s all.”

      Miss Herrick sighed. “That’s understandable, I suppose. I know Mary Helen likes to start trouble, and everyone is feeling anxious these days, but are you sure you’re all right? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

      Pia mustered a weak smile. “I’m fine. Thank you, Miss Herrick.” She wasn’t anywhere near fine, but how could she explain to the teacher what she’d felt when she grabbed Mary Helen’s wrist? She’d think she was crazy.

      The next day, Mary Helen was absent from school and Selma Jones fainted while unpacking her sandwich during lunch. Miss Herrick rushed over to Selma and shook her while the class watched, mouths agape, but Selma didn’t move. Miss Herrick ran out into the hall yelling, and two teachers carried Selma away. Beverly Hansom’s mother pulled her out of class shortly afterward, scurrying into the room and wrapping a protective arm around her daughter, her face pale. On the playground that afternoon, the teachers spoke in hushed voices behind their hands, their brows lined with worry. Rumors flew that Mary Helen and Selma had the flu and Mary Helen was already dead.

      After the last lesson of the day, Pia hurried out of the building and started for home, her books held to her chest, her head down. Normally she would have waited for Finn on the school steps, but she had to get away from there. She needed to go back to her family’s rooms, where she could close the door and hide from everyone and everything. A block from the school, a Red Cross ambulance sped by, and a man on a bench was reading a newspaper with the headline: ALL CITIZENS ORDERED TO WEAR GAUZE MASKS IN PUBLIC. On the streetlamp above him, an advertisement for masks read: “Obey the laws and wear the gauze, protect your jaws from septic paws.”

      Deciding she didn’t want to walk the rest of the way alone, she ducked into a landing to wait for Finn, away from the congested sidewalks, and leaned against the doorframe, wishing she could disappear. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry. Two women with scarves over their mouths darted by arm in arm, walking as fast as they could without running. A gray-haired couple wearing gauze masks and carrying suitcases rushed out of a building and hailed a cab, the old man practically pushing other pedestrians aside with his cane. Even the motorcars and horse-drawn wagons seemed to go by faster than normal. A strange awareness seemed to fill the air, like the lightheartedness on the day before Christmas, or the shared excitement she’d felt before the fireworks display on her first Independence Day in Philadelphia. Except this awareness felt ominous and full of menace, like the sensation she felt at the parade, but ten times worse. And now everyone could feel it.

      When Finn came walking down the block, her shoulders dropped in relief. She stepped out of the landing onto the sidewalk in front of him.

      “Hey,” he said, surprised. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

      “I did,” she said. “I’m right here, aren’t I?” She started walking and he fell in beside her.

      “Ye are, but I didn’t know where you were. I thought . . .”

      “You thought what?”

      He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Everyone’s getting sick. Remember we heard Tommy Costa and his family left town?”

      She nodded.

      “Aye, well, his best pal, Skip, said he died last night.”

      Pia stopped in her tracks. Tommy was the boy who had put his hands over her eyes at the parade. “Was it the flu?”

      “I can’t think of anything else that’d take him that quick.”

      She hugged her books to her chest and started walking again. Tommy and Mary Helen were young and strong. How could they be dead from influenza? How could Selma Jones be fine one day and fainting the next? And why had she felt pain when she’d touched them? Was it the flu she’d felt? No. She couldn’t feel sickness in another person. It had to be a coincidence. Or maybe her shyness really was starting to become a physical ailment. More than anything, she wanted to tell Finn what was going on, to ask him what he thought. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

      At the end of the fourth block, they turned left into Jacob’s Alley, a cart path lined with bakers, shoe cobblers, tailors, and cigar makers working out of storefronts in brick houses, their families’ apartments above. Some of the homes had been turned into boardinghouses, or rented-out rooms to sailors. Crepe ribbons hung from several doorknobs, black and gray and white, swirling in the afternoon breeze. Some doors were marked with signs that read: “QUARANTINE INFLUENZA: Keep out of this house.” At the end of the alley, a woman in a black dress came out of the silversmith’s shop and tied a piece СКАЧАТЬ