One

I didn’t see no point in sleeping. I was nervous. I didn’t want to go back to the orphanage, the housemothers that ignored everything, and the men that “cared” for the children, the food that could never really be identified, and a chef nobody has ever seen. At least, none of the kids have. I looked out of the window over the headboard, pretending to look at the stars. I was looking passed them. My Poppa was up there, worried about me.

 

My Poppa was always worried about me. As long as I can remember, I’ve been running. I’ve been climbing. I’ve never stopped. There was always something to run to. Now, now there’s only stuff to run from.

 

The lady was snoring in her room. I could hear it from all the way down the hall. I tried to step out of the bed, but the floor creaked. I snapped my foot back and shushed the wooden groan. I huffed and rolled over in the bed, covering my head and admitting defeat.

 

I must had fell asleep without realizing, cause the next thing I know the old lady was above my bed, telling me it was time to get up and eat. She handed me a cup of warm salt water and I rinsed my mouth out, spitting it back into the cup. I stood up as she passed me a set of clothes, saying something about her granddaughter being around my age, and that I was staying in her room. I instantly wondered where her granddaughter was, or why she wasn’t staying with her Mama in the first place?

 

I never knew my Mama. She died giving birth to me on the kitchen tile. I wasn’t named for nothing special, or after nobody special. Sometimes I wonder if my Poppa really loved my Mama when he knocked her up, considering he ain’t name me after her or nothing. Then again, who names their child when their half-drunk, mourning the loss of the baby’s Mama?

 

After getting dressed in the button up red plaid shirt and cuffed capris, I stumbled down the stairs to the kitchen, where the handsome Tabby sat by the empty chair, as if awaiting my arrival.

 

“My cat sure has taken a liking to you! Caught him sleeping in your bed last night- had to shoo him away, I tell ya!”

 

I looked at her through my eye slits, upset she removed this handsome devil from my room. If he was comfortable, he could have very well stayed. Instead, I kept my mouth shut and mustered a nod, focusing on the eggs on my plate. I watched the tabby the whole time as he pranced around the kitchen, happy and carefree. When I finished my food, I pushed myself away from the table, and brought my plate to the sink.

 

“Child, I’ll do that. The pipes need to warm up, sometimes they freeze in the night time.”

 

Again I nodded, and just placed my dish in the sink, feeling odd not cleaning it. In the orphanage we have to clean our own plates after eating, then clean our rooms. Instead, I’m leaving a dirty dish in the sink, and putting on a pair of sneakers to go to the place I so desperately ran from just hours before.

 

Me and the woman walked up the one-street town, to the one hill- with the only orphanage for miles. There was dew on the grass, if that’s even what you want to call it. It was white, frosted to the grass because of the cold of the winter. It crunched under my feet, and made my sneakers squeak.

 

I stopped.

Why am I following this woman? Why am I walking back up that hill I just ran down? Why was she bringing me there if she didn’t like it?

 

I wanted to run. I Looked behind me into the sunrise. I needed to run.

 

But my feet wouldn’t work. They wouldn’t run. They wouldn’t move. I just stood there in undecided terror- not knowing what to do.

 

“Child,” the woman cooed up ahead, “come on, girl!”

 

I sighed, and, against my better judgement, I turned around towards the woman, and continued the trudge up the hill, the soil sinking under my feet. The same wet soil that was stuck between my toes. The same soil I’ve played in since I was just seven-years-old.

 

I kept my chin buried in my chest, so I couldn’t see the house gaining on us. Before I knew it, she was knocking on the front door, and I was trembling, sweat accumulating on my forehead.

 

The door opened and housemother Mary stands in the threshold. Mary is the nicest of the housemothers. She tells stories, and kisses our injuries. She’s the only person in all of the orphanage I was going to miss if I succeeded in running. I knew the address, so I could have written a letter or something.

 

Unable to stop myself, I jumped into Mary’s arms. She was a large woman; her hugs were almost suffocating- usually.  This time, the just held me. I sobbed. My eyes poured water all over her apron.

 

“There, there,” she patted my back, “what happened, little one?” She asked, looking up at the old woman.

 

I looked at her too, waiting for her to explain the events of last night in a way Mary would understand.

 

“This young lady came knocking on my door late last night,”

 

“Well, thank you for taking care of her, Misses….”

 

“Miss Oakland, Genevieve Oakland, Madam.”

 

I recognized that name from somewhere, but I couldn’t put a finger on it.

 

“Oh. Oh my! Miss Oakland, I apologize. I’m sorry our young orphan bothered your sleep, I’ll see to it she’s properly handled,” Mary promised. I cringed when she said this and looked up at her. She truly worried about us, so I can tell she was very upset to hear I’d tried running again.

 

“Oh, there won’t be a need for none of that, young lady. I’d like to adopt this here child and care for her on my property.”

 

I eyes widened and I hoped I wasn’t dreaming. I mean, I’ve seen so many children come to the orphanage, and get picked by prospective parents, but never me.

 

Then, this old lady- who I burdened- was offering to parent me?

 

I was trying to understand my excitement, I didn’t know whether to cry, or celebrate, or scream, or…. and then everything went black, my body lost feeling- and I was on the floor, crying hysterically. Somebody wanted me.

 

Somebody wanted me.

 

Alaska had a home.

Author's Note

Any ideas on what to name the book yet? Your thoughts on the name Alaska for the main character?

It was either that, or Dakota.

Reviews

[SweetNutmeg]

One tiny flaw: "I was looking passed them." Passed should be past.

The only other thing I can say is I wouldn't mind hearing more about her emotional reaction at the end.

I like the name Alaska.

[chubbycatchan]

Aaaaewwwee yyyiiiiissssss! I hoped that would happen c:

[ZombiieszAreReal]

usually people do hope orphans find good homes