Alora Funk- The Deliverance: Book 1

  Chapter 8

  The school-

  When we pulled the boat back in the shed, I set up my cot.

  “Oh sweetie, I can’t let you sleep out here.”

  “Why? I like it?”

  “Because, it is a school night.” Another sentence I would hate to hear.

  I wanted to argue, but I wasn’t ready for confrontation yet. Instead, I reluctantly dragged my blanket in and went to my room. The heater was turned way up and the house was stifling hot. My lungs felt constricted as I tried to breath. I really wanted to be back out in the shed.

  Eventually in my bed, I fell asleep, despite the heat. The next day came too early. I had a lump in my stomach. I wasn’t ready for school. In fact, I was frightened. I was fearful the school would discover how I didn’t know anything. I was scared they would realize I was dumb. It terrified me to think about interacting with the kids. They had all probably heard about me on the news. I didn’t want to go.

  Angela supplied me with an outfit. It was so dingy and ugly. She probably gave it to me because she wouldn’t wear it herself, going to school looking like a dork made me even more anxious.

  While I put on the horrific outfit, the rest of the family was fighting and arguing. They all seemed to be in a grumpy mood. While I was stuffing my feet into the small shoes Angela had given me, the bus drove by and honked.

  “We gotta go,” Angela said grabbing my hand. I only had one shoe on. Getting up, I had to carry the other shoe as I ran behind her. The bus stopped two houses up from us. Traydon, one of the older brothers, shot out of the house and beat us to the bus. He was fourteen. I trailed behind Angela up the stairs and onto the bus, following her to the back seats. She squeezed next to a friend, then looked up at me, and very snottily said, “Oh sorry, no room.” Holding my one shoe, I looked around and noticed every seat in the back was full. I ignorantly stood there, not sure what to do. The kids started shouting at me to sit down, but I didn’t know where to sit.

  “Hey, girl, you must sit down before I can move. Come get a seat up here,” the driver called to me. She was a very large, dark skinned lady, with smooth skin and a pile of hair on her head. Embarrassed, I walked toward the front of the bus. When a seat came open, I dove into it and slumped down. The driver threw the bus into gear, the bus jerking a couple of times as it went forward.

  I felt like a complete idiot as I slouched in my seat, trying to hide from everyone. I could hear the kids whispering about me. I wanted to turn invisible. The bus drove out of the canyon and to the neighboring Brigham City. It dropped us off at an intermediate school called ACYI, meaning Adele C Young Intermediate School. The school only had sixth and seventh grade.

  Since I was in the front, I got off the bus before Angela and Traydon. I stood by its door and waited as Traydon flew by me, hurrying into the school. I continued waiting for Angela. She took her time getting off, surrounded by a gaggle of girls. She looked bothered when I fell in line behind her, jabbering with her friends until the bell rang. I felt awkward and wanted to run and hide. I noticed in my awkwardness, I was still holding the one shoe as my foot froze in the wet sock.

  “We got to go,” she said yanking my arm. “We are late. This is not the class to be late in. I am not really sure where you are supposed to go. Why don’t you come to class with me?” she offered.

  I followed Angela, her acting as if I wasn’t there at all. In the classroom, the kids stared at me.

  “Sit there,” Angela barked as she pointed to the only open seat in the front of the room.

  “You are late, Ms. Sanibel,” the teacher grumbled. He had an orange color band around him. He pointed at me. “Who’s that?”

  “My foster sister. She’s new.”

  “She’s not supposed to be in this class.”

  “Yes she is,” Angela said.

  “You need to go to the office and bring back a paper letting me know you are on my role,” he said to me.

  Angels stood up, “I’ll take her there,” she said.

  “Not so fast, Ms. Sanibel. You do belong in this class, so you better take your seat.”

  “But she doesn’t know how to get to the office,” Angela said.

  “I am sure she can figure it out.”

  “But she is stupid,” Angela said.

  The class laughed. My head spun, for I had all the embarrassment I could handle. I was going to vomit and there was no stopping it. With the acid rising in my throat, I turned around and found a trash can. I ran to it just in time as the puke flowed in. My muscles contracted violently. The acidic sludge came out my mouth and nose, burning both of them. The class groaned at the noise and smell. The teacher looked like he was going to flip out.

  “Take the trashcan and get yourself to the office. And for you Ms. Sanibel, if you ever try to play games in my class again, I will send you to the office as well.”

  I wrapped my arms around the basket and went into the hall. Confused, I looked up and down it, but I had no idea where to go. I wanted to escape and return to Mantua. My hands were on fire. Maybe I would go take a walk around the reservoir. It would be far better than staying there. Lost, I strolled aimlessly until I made it to the office. When I walked in, I think the smell of my puke-can hit the secretaries’ noses. They all looked up in disgust.

  One of them ran to my side and snatched the can out of my hand. “Oh, you must be sick. You can go lay down on the bed until your mom comes and gets you. What’s your name and whose class are you coming from?”

  I stared at them. I didn’t want to share my voice with them.

  They tried all efforts to get me to speak, but I wouldn’t. Eventually, they got scared and thought I was having a stroke or something. They put me in the sick room and made a call to the nurse. While I was on the bed, I could hear them talking about me.

  “Look on the trash can’s side. It should have the teacher’s name on it.”

  “Oh, there it is. It says Mr. Miller.”

  “Give him a call.”

  I heard a speaker open up. There was static popping noises. They were talking to him through some sort of system.

  “Mr. Miller, what is the name of the student you sent to the office?”

  I could hear Mr. Miller reply, “She certainly is not a student of mine. If you intend for me to have her, then you need to send her back with the proper paperwork.”

  “She has one of your cans. Aren’t you the one who sent her?”

  “She tried to sneak into my class without the proper paperwork. After she violated our breathing air, I sent her to you to straighten out this mess.”

  “Well, the problem, Mr. Miller, is we can’t get her to talk. We are worried about her. Does anyone know who she is?”

  “Ms. Sanibel claims to be her sister. She said she was stupid. I am supposing she means she has special needs.” I could hear Miller say.

  “Ms. Sanibel doesn’t have a sister at this school,” the secretaries said.

  “I don’t know. This is your problem, not mine. Can I now return to my lecture?” I could hear Mr. Miller growl. More static popped over the system.

  “Will you please send Ms. Sanibel down?”

  “Yes.”

  I tried to rest. I had never felt so stupid in my whole life. At least I didn’t think I had. Forthwith, I heard when Angela came into the office.

  “What’s going on, Angela?” they asked her.

  “This is my new foster sister.”

  “Well, why is she here?” a secretary asked.

  “To go to school!” Angela replied, tartly.

  “She can’t show up to school. There is paperwork she must do. What is her name?”

  “I am not really sure. It is either Alora Funk, or Jane Doe.”

  “Alora Funk? Jane Doe? You don’t know her name. This sounds rather unlikely. What is going on here, Angela?”

  “If you don’t believe me, ask my
mom.”

  “Where is your mom?”

  “At home on her butt.”

  “Why did she not bring your ‘foster sister’ in and register her? Surely Mrs. Sanibel understands how the system works. She has plenty of kids to know these things.”

  “Like I said, she is on her butt watching TV. It would take a fire to get her out of her chair.”

  “Okay, Angela, you can go back to class.”

  “Must I?” Angela replied. “I can’t stand Mr. Miller.”

  “Angela, please don’t talk bad about our teachers.”

  “Sorry.”

  I rubbed my head as I listened to their conversation from the sick bed.

  “Hey, wait a minute, Angela. We can’t get her to talk. The nurse had to be called in from another school and is not here yet. Do you think something is seriously wrong with her?”

  “Nah, she is just stupid.”

  “ANGELA!”

  “No really, she is. Do you remember hearing the story on the news a couple of weeks ago about the kid they found in Bountiful who was in a cement room and drugged up? This is her.”

  “No way?” a secretary replied in a shocked voice.

  “Jane Doe. It’s what they called her in the news,” Angela said.

  “Thank you, Angela, get to class.”

  There was whispering among the secretaries after Angela left. Then I heard one of them on the phone.

  “Peggy Sanibel, we need you to come here right away. It concerns Jane Doe.”

  …

  I lay in the sick room for what seemed like half the day. Finally, Peggy showed up. The secretaries chastised her pretty hard for sending me there without even as much as a heads up to them. They told her before I could return to school, she would have to go to the district office and get me registered. Peggy dragged me out of there like an angry bull. She hated being taken away from her precious soaps. Angered, she drove to the district office, which wasn’t very far away. There they told her she would need a copy of my birth certificate, my immunization records, and my transcripts from my previous school. She tried to explain to them my situation, but they wouldn’t listen.

  “So what you are saying is Alora can’t go to school without a bunch of silly, useless papers? You are actually going to stop a child from receiving her education over red tape? I can’t believe it. I thought this was America. You let immigrants in to our schools every day, and they have none of those things. But my foster daughter can’t go to school. That is rich, rich.”

  “I am sorry Mrs. Sanibel, we have policies here. I didn’t write them. Don’t get mad at me.”

  “Oh I’ll get mad. I’ll get mad at all of you. I don’t have time for this today. I have important things I am supposed to be doing right now, but instead I am stuck here fighting for a free education, promised to me by my government. Paid for by my taxes.”

  I almost laughed when she said she had important things to do. The only important thing she did all day was make dinner, and that was still hours away. When Peggy could see they weren’t going to budge, she stomped out of there. She was so mad, actually foaming at the lips with little bubbles of spit spilling onto her chin. Her aura was almost the same color of orange as Mr. Scary had, not as dark.

  Still irate, Peggy drove me home. It wasn’t until we went inside, I realized she had left all the young kids she babysat back at the house, alone. I couldn’t believe she left such young kids, appointing the five year old in charge. When we got in, she didn’t even do a head count. She mumbled under her breathe as she sat in front of the TV, returning to her beloved soaps. When it became apparent she wasn’t going to give me any direction, I left for a walk to the campground. I really liked it there. Since it was Monday, there weren’t any campers around.

  I sat at a picnic table the rest of the day, thinking about things, but there wasn’t much for me to put my mind on. I replayed my few memories over and over again, trying to recall the trapped or lost memories, but having no success. Darkness settled on me, my stomach grumbled. I was so hungry, I decided it was time to walk home. As I entered into the house, I could smell the savory scent of sausage. Passing the dining room table, I could see I had missed dinner. My stomach growled as I realized I had also missed lunch. I wasn’t eating much since I moved in with the Sanibels.

  Peggy was still sour from not being able to get me registered at school. She didn’t offer to take me out on the reservoir. She sat in her recliner mumbling and growling at each little infraction one of the kids made. My stomach screamed as I headed to bed. Another starving night in the Sanibel home.

  “Hey, Alora,” she said as I walked up the stairs. “Don’t plan on going to school tomorrow. Child Protective Services has to straighten out your registration with the school.”

  I was alright with that.

  The next day, I tried to sleep in, but it was hard to do with all the sounds of kids getting ready in the morning. I finally came down after the kids left. Weakness made it hard to walk. I needed food. I went into the kitchen to see if there was any breakfast. Peggy called from her recliner, “Don’t bother about breakfast. You missed it. If you sleep in, then that is the consequence.”

  Her words were harsh and uncaring. I felt lightheaded and had to sit. When the feeling passed, I stood back up. I didn’t have anything to do, so I sat across from Peggy in the family room. She was engrossed in her soaps, not even looking up to say hi, still wearing her torn flannel pajamas. There were many stains on them, plus they were so frumpy, making her look double her size. As she zoned into the TV, I noticed her color band was grey. The color made me feel uncomfortable. I didn’t want to stay there for long. What I really wanted to do was go back to the campground. I really liked it there. It was peaceful and my soul seemed to align with nature, but I didn’t dare leave, for I couldn’t afford to miss lunch. Waiting for lunch, I sat on the couch, drifting to sleep a couple of times, but then jerking back awake. Finally, at 1:00pm Peggy made soggy macaroni and cheese. It didn’t taste good, but I was ravenous, and I wolfed it down. It barely satisfied my hunger pains.

  After lunch, I headed to the campground, then changed my mind, knowing if I went over there, I would become distracted and probably miss dinner again. I decided to stay a little bit closer. I walked across the road and the parking lot to the reservoir. Scaling down the giant boulders, I sat next to the water. It was really cold as large snowflakes fell, floating down in their brilliant designs. I studied them until I became too cold and had to return home. It was 3:00pm when I went into the house. I didn’t know what else to do, and I wasn’t about to sit with Peggy again and watch soaps. Bored, I went to my room and took a nap until the dinner bell awoke me.

  …

  Thursday morning, I slept in, awaking to Peggy screaming at me, “Why are you still in bed? The bus comes in fifteen minutes and you aren’t even dressed.” She turned and stomped out of the room. I couldn’t believe she had expected me to be ready for school when she hadn’t even told me I was going. I looked at my clothes pile. I only had about four different things to wear. Everything was dirty. I picked out the least dirty outfit and slipped it on.

  As I was leaving the house to get on the bus, Peggy stopped me. “You aren’t riding the bus today. I guess I have to waste my time and take you and make sure Child Protective Services registered you.” Angela had warned me the previous evening how Peggy became extremely crabby whenever she had to do real work. According to Angela, Peggy was so lazy she rarely left her day time TV. She said the only real work Peggy ever did was make dinner. I was seeing what Angela meant. It didn’t make sense why Peggy was so ornery to take me to school and fill out my paperwork.

  Grouchily, Peggy drove me to school. Her color band was red as she sped down the canyon. She yelled each time she got stopped behind a slow driver. She didn’t seem to have an ounce of patience. Again, she left the little kids she babysat behind. I bet t
heir mothers would have killed her if they knew what type of babysitter she was, leaving their kids unattended. Peggy played the part of a competent caregiver to the parents. When they picked up their kids, she would always brag about how exceptional their one kid was. “If only all the kids were as great as yours,” she would say. She was such a fibber. She did have an easy job, because she didn’t do anything. There was a small alcove by the front door. She would have the parents wait for their kids there. They always seemed to be in a hurry, so they didn’t mind not venturing past the alcove. She never brought them into her home. They probably would have died if they saw how messy it was.

  …

  After she had parked, we went to the front desk at ACYI. Peggy handed over a piece of paper and said, “Alora is ready for school. I did all of your requirements.” She didn’t even wait to hear what they had to say. She turned her back and walked away.

  “Wait!” a secretary called after her. “Let’s make sure she is registered before you go. There are fees you have to pay. Plus, you might want to help her pick some of her classes.”

  “Fees? I thought the government promised us a free education.”

  “Mrs. Sanibel, you paid fees for Angela and Traydon. It’s the same thing.”

  Peggy flung her checkbook out of her gaudy purse. She studied their fee sheet. Moaning and carrying on, she scribbled out a check using a chunky purple pen.

  “What is your foster kid’s name?”

  “Alora Funk.”

  The secretary typed the name into her computer. “Are you sure you registered her?” she asked. “I can’t find an Alora Funk.”

  “Well, I didn’t actually register her. Child Protective Services had to come and do it. Please hurry. I have important things I need to be doing.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you. Alora isn’t in our system. Give me a minute and I will call the district and see what is going on.”

  Peggy took a piece of paper and picked her teeth with it. “Oh, you won’t find her under Alora. Child Protective Services gave her the name of Jane Doe. Try that.”

  The secretary searched for it. “Oh phew, here it is. Jane Doe.”

  “She doesn’t want to be called Jane. Her name is Alora Funk,” Peggy interjected.

  “Not according to our records. See here, it says Jane Doe.”

  “I know what it says, but that isn’t her name. It was a name Child Protective Services gave her because they didn’t know what else to call her. She was rescued from a horrible situation. All of this is pretty scary to her; the new school, a new family, everything. The least you could do for her is to let her have her name.”

  The secretary rubbed her forehead. You could tell she was sick of Peggy. She glared at Peggy, raising her voice an octave. “We have to go by what we legally have her registered as. If you want it changed, then have Child Protective Services change it. Otherwise, there isn’t anything we can do.”

  “That’s horse crap,” Peggy said. “You have no idea what this child has been through. Give her one thing she can call her own. Her name. I bet you like your name. What if I started calling you Fanny, instead of Lacey? Would you like that, Fanny? I feel this poor child has nothing. She came to me without an identity, without a history, and without possessions. She has since told me the only thing she has is her name, and I want to make sure she is able to keep it.”

  “Please, Mrs. Sanibel. We aren’t your enemy here. All we are trying to do is our job. There are policies and we can’t change them. It is not in our power. If you want her name changed, then Child Protective Services will have to do it.”

  “That’s horse crap,” Peggy growled again.

  “Listen, most of our teachers here are pretty easy going. Jane can tell them…”

  “It’s Alora,” Peggy snapped.

  “Jane, Alora; she can ask them if they would use a nick name on her. Most will do that.”

  Peggy threw her hands up in the air. “Alora doesn’t talk.”

  “What do you mean she doesn’t talk?”

  “What I said was pretty simple. She doesn’t talk. Well, she can, but she won’t. Can you let her teachers know?”

  “I am sorry Mrs. Sanibel, we can’t. Jane will have to do that.”

  “I tell you, it’s Alora, and even still you call her Jane. What’s wrong with you people?”

  There were several kids sitting in the office. They seemed to be getting a kick out of the ruckus Peggy was making. I wanted to hide.

  Another secretary came over to help ease the tension. She decided on a diversion tactic as she handed me a paper. “Alora,” she said to me, using my name. “Would you like a quick tour of the school?”

  “She doesn’t talk,” Peggy growled. “And of course she would like a tour of the school.”

  “You have several kids here, Mrs. Sanibel. Would you like to give the tour?”

  Peggy looked at her phone. “Mercy me, look at the time. I really have to be going. Are we done yet?”

  If the secretaries were done or not, I am sure they were more than ready to send Peggy on her way.

  “We are fine. If you need to go, then please do,” the second secretary said.

  When Peggy left, all the people in the office shot each other looks. I am sure they were dying to talk about her, but probably restrained from it since I was there.

  “Before your tour, why don’t you visit with the counselor? She may have some things you need to do first.” She called LeAnn over.

  “LeAnn, I have a new kid for you. Stella should have sent you an email with her background in it. You really will want to become familiar with her story.”

  “Sounds good.” LeAnn took me back to her office, a tight room with a desk and a bookshelf full of thick textbooks. The air was stuffy and smelt a little off. I sat across her desk as she took her seat behind it.

  “Tell me about yourself,” she said. I stared at her. LeAnn spent the next twenty minutes trying to build a rapport with me, but she wasn’t getting anywhere because I wasn’t talking.

  “Okay, I read you can talk, but I guess at this time you are choosing not to. I hope one day you will trust us. Anyway, what I want to do is run a series of academic placement tests on you. I want to find the best classes for you.”

  When I didn’t say anything, she stood up. “Follow me,” she said as she led me into a small room, having four desks in it. She plopped a stack of papers in front of me and a pencil.

  “Don’t stress it too much. You aren’t getting graded on this. We want to see where your abilities are; how much you know. If you need anything, stick your head out and call for one of us.”

  I stared at the test as she left me alone. I looked at the first problem. It was a mathematical equation. In fact, the next four were as well. I had no idea what to do with them, so I put my head on my test and took a nap.

  At the end of the day, LeAnn congratulated me for doing such a good job. She should have looked at the blank test before opening her mouth. She led me to the bus, and excitedly told me I would start classes the next day. I got on the bus. As I tried to sit in a seat, kids would growl at me and tell me there was no room. Eventually, the bus driver called me up to sit behind her. The kids laughed at me. I hated school.

  …

  The next day, when the bus dropped me off to school, LeAnn was in the parking lot waiting for me. She guided me to her office.

  “Sit down, Jane,” she said. I sat. Her office stunk. It was hot and LeAnn looked at me as if she was trying to think of what to say. Sweat trickled down my chest.

  “What happened? You turned the test in blank. You haven’t done one problem. I don’t think you realize how important that test is. We need you to do it today and do your best. I know I told you it didn’t matter much, but it really does. Do you think you can finish the test for me today?” I stared at her.

  She took me to the same room
and returned my blank test and pencil. I treated the day the same as I had the following one, sleeping it away. LeAnn hadn’t learned. She never once came and checked if I had done any work, not even when she had brought me my lunch. At the end of the day, the bell rang and I excused myself to the bus.

  …

  When we got home, Angela grabbed the mail out of the mail box.

  “Hey Alora, you have mail. No fair, I want mail,” she said as she tossed an envelope at me. It was addressed to Jane Doe.

  I hid the letter in my backpack as I went into the house. I didn’t want Peggy to see it and read it before I had a chance. I don’t know why I worried. She didn’t even look up from her TV when we came in. As quietly as I could, I walked by her recliner and went up the stairs. Once I was alone in my room with the door closed, I brought the letter out. I noticed it had a strong perfume smell to it. I opened it up.

  Dear Jane Doe,

  This is your friend from the hospital. Please don’t tell anyone about this letter. I just wanted to see how you were doing. I feel responsible for you and just want to make sure everything is alright. I would like to meet with you Monday at the store there in Mantua. I can’t remember its name, but there is only one small convenience store there. I will meet you there as soon as you get home from school. Please don’t tell anyone about this meeting. I will explain to you later and you will understand why we must do it in secret.

  -Your friend from the hospital.

  …

  The letter made me a bit nervous. Was it a trap from one of the Russians? Why must it be kept a secret? I thought about telling Peggy. If she thought it was a good idea, then I would go to the store on Monday. Most likely, the letter was from London, the lady who visited me each night when I was at the hospital, but what if it wasn’t? I hid the letter under my mattress and went down to talk to Peggy.

  She was sitting in her recliner. Jill was standing at her side holding a book.

  “Please read to me, Mommy.”

  Peggy didn’t even look at her as she brushed her aside. “I can’t sweetie. Mandy is about to find out her husband is dead. I have been waiting for this all week,” she said as she kept her eyes glued to the TV.

  Disappointed by her mom, Jill walked away with tears in her eyes. At that moment, I despised Peggy. Sure, she was a good woman for opening her doors to me, but I hated how despondent she was with everything. She always was bragging at what a good mother she was. But was she? She hardly interacted with anyone. It seemed like TV was more important to her than anything. I decided not to tell her about the letter.