A Place To Call Home

PARTICIPATING IN OUR VOLUNTEER WORK PROGRAM.

  WITH MORE THAN THIRTY ROOMS AVAILABLE, 24 HOUR SECURITY, AND A ZERO DRUG/ALCOHOL POLICY, ANTHONY'S IS A SAFE AND ACCOMMODATING PLACE TO CALL HOME.

  PLEASE CONSIDER GIVING TODAY BECAUSE EVEN A DOLLAR CAN GO A LONG WAY.

  The address and phone number were given at the bottom.

  "Great. Thanks for this," said Sarah, folding the leaflet in half and stuffing it into her bag.

  Cliff smiled. "My pleasure."

  After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Sarah said a final good bye and left the store. She was happy she'd met Cliff because it reminded her that there were still good people in the world; living with and working for the Smolinski's, she'd met so many foul ones that she 'd forgotten there were grandfatherly gentlemen like Cliff still out there.

  Sarah pushed the wheelchair along the sidewalk, her face aglow and feeling hopeful. Not only had she found a wheelchair for Ron, she'd found them a place to stay.

  - 7 -

  ANTHONY'S

  "And here is where you two can get a nice, hot meal three times a day," explained Wynona, the Anthony's Mission kitchen manager. "We've just finished up lunch for the day," (from their position in the centre of the dining hall Sarah could see several people wiping tables and carrying trays of food to the kitchen), but supper is at five o'clock sharp...so if you're hungry, that's not too long of a wait. Of course one of our kitchen volunteers can always fix you a sandwich or something in the mean time."

  "Oh," said Sarah, "that's very nice of you to offer, but we ate not too long ago...so I think we'll be alright until supper."

  She glanced at Ron who sat in the wheelchair playing his video game. He was angry and giving her the silent treatment because she'd kept him waiting so long on the bench beside the hot dog stand.

  Wynona smiled. "Okay...well...I'll leave you two here then. Grab a seat. Miss Bertolino shouldn't be much longer."

  "Sure, thanks."

  The plump, rosy-cheeked woman gave Ron a motherly pat on the shoulder. "This one doesn't talk much does he?"

  "No, but when he does," said Sarah, "watch out!"

  She smiled nervously, knowing her little joke would only anger Ron further.

  Wynona giggled. "Aren't all boys just the same, eh?"

  "Yeah."

  "My two nephews are the same way. If they're not talking their heads off they're - "

  Wynona stopped mid-sentence as the sound of breaking dishware echoed throughout the dining hall.

  "Goodness, what are they doing in there?" she huffed. "I'd better go and make sure everything is alright. Wait here and Miss Bertolino will be with your shortly. Okay?"

  "Yeah. Thanks."

  "Okay. I'll see you later then."

  Sarah watched Wynona go before switching her attention to her foster brother.

  "Ron..."

  "Don't talk to me, Sair."

  "Ron - "

  "I'm not listening," Ron sang, turning up the volume on his game console.

  "Oh geez. How long until you talk to me again?"

  "You left me there, Sair! You said you'd only be a half hour...but it was like two hours!"

  "Ron, it was an hour and fifteen minutes - and I've already apologized a hundred times!"

  Ron ignored her.

  "It took me a lot longer than I thought it would. How's that my fault?"

  Sarah felt her anger rising.

  "I got you a wheelchair so that you wouldn't have to walk on your ankle anymore! I pushed you all the way here and I put up with your verbal abuse the entire time! Can't you just forgive me!?"

  "Jessica Myers?"

  Sarah looked up to see a pretty, brunette standing a few feet away.

  "Uh...hi...yes. I'm Jessica."

  "Hi Jessica. My name's Amy Bertolino. I'm the intake coordinator here at Anthony's."

  "Yes...hi...Wynona said...yes...I'm sorry...my brother and I we're - "

  "Don't apologize. You're probably going through an extremely difficult time. I understand from the note on my desk that you've just left your parents? That you've left home because of a bad situation?"

  "Yes...that's right."

  Amy's expression was sympathetic.

  "That's not easy and I can only imagine how you must be feeling right now. How about we go to my office and we'll get everything straightened out. Sound good?"

  Sarah ran a hand through her hair. She felt exhausted. "Sure."

  Amy smiled. "Good."

  She went up to Ron. "How about I show you to the rec room, big guy? We have a foosball table, toys, video games a computer, books, puzzles - you name it, we've got it. Does that sound like fun? I see you already have a video game. Would you like to go and check it out? It's Ron, right?"

  Ron paused his video game and looked up at Amy. "Yeah...and no, I'd like to stay with my sister if that's alright."

  Amy smiled and looked back at Sarah.

  "I'll bet she's pretty important to you."

  Ron nodded and Sarah felt her cheeks flush.

  "Okay then...so how about we all go to my office together. We'll get something to drink, we'll sit back a bit...and we'll just figure things out. Sound good?"

  "I guess."

  "I'll take that as a yes!" Amy exclaimed enthusiastically, seizing the handles of Ron's wheelchair.

  "Right this way, guys."

  Sarah followed as Amy wheeled Ron to her office. They passed through the dining hall to the opposite end, down a corridor, and then stopped in front of a half-open office dor.

  "Come on in," she said, going in first with Ron.

  "Thanks."

  Sarah stepped inside after them and and took a seat on a comfortable, padded chair.

  "And we'll just move this table out of the way..." said Amy, making a space for Ron and the wheelchair, "and voila! Now. Ron. What would you like to drink? Pop? Juice?"

  "Grape soda."

  "Okay. And for you Jessica?"

  "I'll have a coffee thanks."

  She hoped that choosing a coffee would make her seem older.

  "Okay. Give me two minutes. Feel free to look at some of the books on the table there (she motioned towards the pile of books on the coffee table in the centre of the room) - some of them are kind of weighty - but others are quite easy to read and there's a lot of good information on domestic violence and such...anyways, I'll be back in a jiffy. Alright?"

  "Yeah."

  "Okay."

  Amy tousled Ron's hair. "Cheer up, you're in a good place now."

  Ron managed a smile and Amy left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

  "I'm sorry for getting angry, Sair," said Ron almost immediately after Amy had gone.

  Sarah pulled her chair closer towards her foster brother. "No...I'm sorry Ron. I never should have left you that long. When I think of what could have happened...it was very irresponsible of me."

  "Well...yeah...but you were doing something to help me...you got me a wheelchair...and my ankle has stopped hurting for the first time since yesterday...so you did good, Sair."

  "Did I?"

  "Yeah. Just...I don't want to ever be left alone like that again, okay? I was scared...I didn't know if something had happened to you...I didn't know if you were coming back."

  His words cut like a knife through her heart and Sarah felt awful.

  "I'm sorry Ron. I love you so much. You're my only brother - well foster brother - but still - you're my brother...and I promise to take better care of you."

  Ron smiled. "Thanks. I love you too."

  Sarah couldn't help but wrap her arms around him.

  "Tell me when I'm being mean or irresponsible, okay?" she said into his shoulder.

  She felt Ron move his head.

  "Because I don't always know."

  "I will."

  The door opened and Amy stepped in and then out again. "Sorry...am I interrupting?"

  Sarah released her brother. "No, we're good. You can come in."

  Amy smiled and
stepped back inside. "Awesome...I hope you two figured things out."

  "Yeah, we did."

  "Excellent...here's your coffee...and Ron...here's your grape soda."

  "Thanks."

  "No worries."

  Amy took a seat behind her desk and cleared a space for her mug. "Alright then...where were we..."

  She took a sip from her mug. "Jessica." (Sarah looked up.) "You've left home because of a bad situation. We don't have to get into details at this point in time - we do have three counselors on staff here that are willing and able to listen to you whenever you like. You just have to make an appointment with one of them...but, I need to know what your support network is like here in the city...because that will determine - when the time is right - the strategy we devise for helping you get on your feet. So, do you have a support network of some kind in Toronto?"

  "You mean like friends?"

  "Friends, family, co-workers - "

  "No, not really."

  Sarah had almost mentioned her dad, but had caught herself in time. She'd already told them that she and Ron had left their parents.

  "Okay...next question. Are you employed or do you have a source of regular income?"

  "No...not right now. I want to get a job soon though."

  Amy smiled. "That's excellent and we have a great team here that can help you with your job search...we'll leave that for a couple weeks though...until you get settled."

  Sarah nodded.

  "Alright. Next question. Ron. He looks like he should be in school. How old are you Ron?"

  "I'm eight."

  "And were you going to school when you lived at home?"

  "Yes."

  "What grade are you in?"

  "I'm in third grade."

  Amy smiled. "Great."

  She turned to Sarah. "We are required, by law, to ensure that all children under the age of sixteen attend school...I'm not sure yet how old you are..."

  "I'm nineteen."

  Amy cocked her head. "You sure don't look nineteen...do you have some ID or something that I could look at?"

  "Yes, of course," said Sarah, retrieving her wallet from her bag.

  "The only reason I ask is because if you are a minor...we would refer you to Child Services."

  Sarah swallowed to remove the knot in her throat. "Right...well..I'm nineteen so..."

  "Yes, so that doesn't apply to you then."

  "Okay."

  Sarah handed Amy the same fake ID cards she had given Harriet at Le Luxembourg and watched with a mixture of pride and anxiety as Amy examined them.

  She was proud that she could pass herself off as nineteen, yet anxious about her future at Anthony's if anyone discovered that she wasn't nineteen year old "Jessica Myers", but instead, a fourteen year old runaway named Sarah Litchmore.

  Out of the corner of one eye she could see that Ron was just as anxious as she was.

  He sipped his soda, watching Amy closely and waiting to see if the fake ID would pass this latest test.

  Sarah was grateful he hadn't said anything that might conflict with the information she'd given thus far.

  "Okay...great."

  Amy returned the fake ID to Sarah.

  "So. Jessica - you've obviously finished school. Have you given any thought about going to college or university?"

  "Somewhat - my mom went to Ryerson - but she dropped out when she found out she was pregnant with me."

  This, at least, was true.

  "Well, Ryerson does offer many great programs. I did my undergrad there. So that's something we'll have to look into for you. You would probably need student loans and there's quite a bit of paperwork with that - and given that it's October - you wouldn't be able to start until the winter term anyways...so I think we'll leave that for now. I will make a note though to have Cynthia - she's one of our counselors here - go over that with you sometime in the next month."

  Sarah nodded.

  "As far as Mister Ron is concerned though," she said, grinning, "we've got to get you back in school asap. Are you comfortable going to the school you're at now - or would it be easier to change schools?"

  "I don't know."

  Amy looked at Sarah. "We do like to minimize the upheaval on the children coming out of situations of domestic violence and so I would suggest that we keep him where he is - unless of course he's not happy there."

  "Well, we're from Pickering..." said Sarah slowly.

  Amy nodded. "Ah. I see. And so, I'm assuming that Ron was going to school there?"

  "Yes."

  "And that is a bit far..."

  Amy picked up the page she was looking at and flipped to the next one.

  "Hmm...well, I guess we can transfer him then. To somewhere in the city. I'll try and call the school next week - after you two have had a chance to settle in - and see about getting him transfered."

  Sarah felt her stomach do a backflip. If Amy called the school, the game would be up. Because the school surely knew by now that they were missing. Unless Hank and Gloria hadn't reported them missing...because that would look bad on them...and the cops would come sniffing around...but then Mrs. Whittaker would have reported them missing and she would have told her son what Sarah had told her about Hank and Gloria and...

  "Jessica?"

  Sarah gave her head a shake. "Sorry. What did you say?"

  "I just want to know the name of the school. Or I suppose Ron can tell me."

  "Eastbrook Elementary," said Ron.

  Great.

  "Eastbrook," said Amy with a smile. "I know where that is. I grew up near there."

  Even better.

  "But I didn't go to Eastbrook - most of my friends did - but I didn't."

  Phew.

  I went to Saint Theresa. Hey, when your family's Italian Catholic - public school just isn't an option!"

  Sarah nodded, thankful she'd gotten away with that one. Still, she hadn't really gotten away with anything. As soon as Amy called the school...

  She would have to think of something.

  Amy clasped her hands together. "Well...now that that's in order...I just need you to fill out our Admittance Form."

  She dug inside a file folder and extracted a double-sided sheet of paper.

  "Fill this out, sign it and we'll get you two into a room."

  Sarah took the sheet of paper and the pen Amy gave to her and wrote in the required information. When she was finished she returned it to Amy. Amy signed and dated it then stowed it back into the file folder.

  "Great...now that we have that all out of the way...we do need to go over some house rules (Ron grimaced) - I know, no one likes rules Ron, but rules are important when you have a lot of different people living and working together. Rules help alleviate conflict - and therefore they are entirely worth the extra time and effort it takes. On that note, we do try to keep it pretty simple here at Anthony's and we feel that our rules are fair. That being said, it is essential that you both know what's expected of you while you are staying here."

  Sarah looked squarely at Amy to show that she was listening.

  "So, I'm not going to go over all of our rules with you at this time - you can read them at your leisure - they're posted on the back of each bedroom door and as well in the dining hall and in the rec room...but I will give you the two most important ones right now. First and foremost," she began, looking at both of them simultaneously, "here at Anthony's we have zero tolerance for drugs and alcohol. And there are no second chances when it comes to this."

  Her mouth was set in a serious line as she glanced down at a piece of paper on her desk. She scanned it momentarily for the section she was looking for and read aloud: "Residents found with drugs or alcohol in their possession will be given two hours to pack their bags and vacate the premises. Likewise, residents found to be under the influence of drugs or alcohol will be given two hours to pack their bags and vacate the premises."

  She looked up. "Any questions regarding our drug and alcohol policy?"


  "No."

  "Good. Rule number two. Each resident is assigned to a dorm floor...because we have enough vacancy at this time, you and Ron will have a bedroom for yourselves - in the winter we'll often place two compatible individuals or families together in one room as we're extremely full when it's cold outside and space is extremely tight. But, for the next month or two anyways, you'll have a room to yourselves."

  Sarah nodded.

  "I'm going to put you on the purple floor - let me explain," she said, responding to Sarah's quizzical expression. "Each of our dorm floors is painted a different colour. The first floor is yellow, the second floor is green, the third floor is purple, and the fourth floor is blue."

  "Cool," Ron interjected, "those are the same colours as the tables in the dining hall."

  "You're just a sharp little man, aren't ya?" Amy teased. "Yes, Ron, the tables in our dining hall are yellow, green, purple, and blue. Now as you may be able to guess, residents of the - "

  Sarah cut in, "purple floor eat at the purple table and residents of the green floor eat at the green table, and so on."

  "Ex - actly," said Amy, seeming not to mind her interruption. "And, what's more, we also assign all of our chores in the same way. There's a chore chart posted in the dining hall. All residents aged twelve or older must take part in our work program. Ron...since you're eight...no chores for you."

  Ron grinned and looked at his sister. "Does she have to do chores since she's four - nineteen?"

  Amy smiled, seeming not to notice his near blunder. "You bet!"

  Sarah made a face.

  Amy laughed. "Hey now...this place couldn't survive without residents helping out! Our philosophy is that only when our residents are active participants in the shelter's operations, will they feel a responsibility towards Anthony's and themselves. This feeling of responsibility means that you work hard to keep the place going strong. It benefits everyone, and it gets you work experience for your resume... say for instance you work in the kitchen for the three months that you're here - that might get you a restaurant job...or say you help us build a new deck - that gets you carpentry slash construction experience which you can then put on your resume and maybe land a job in that field."

  Sarah looked doubtful. "And...what if we get a job outside of Anthony's and work there?"

  "We still require you to take part in chores because we do believe that you need feel responsible for this place in order to be successful here - and in life. Responsibility is good - it makes you grow."

  "So...what types of chores are there?"

  Amy smiled. "Well, I'm glad you asked. There's laundry duty, kitchen duty - and that's split into two - one colour team, for example Team Purple, makes dinner. Another colour team, say...yellow...puts dinner away and cleans up. In addition to those two, we have general cleaning - that's stuff like bathrooms, washing windows, vacuuming the hallways...we have handy person duty which is helping paint...or fix the stairs...or hang a new door...or what have you - my cousin Paul often comes to oversee our handy person projects."

  "Okay."

  "The most fun one though - the one that everybody likes - and I know you will too Jessica - is social activities . Every Saturday night we have a fun night where we do karaoke or play charades or have a chess tournament - and each group gets to plan one social activity each month. So it works out nicely because we get lots of different ideas."

  "That sounds pretty cool," said Sarah, starting to feel as though she might actually enjoy her time here.

  Amy looked touched. "It is cool - and thanks for saying that. We do love a compliment now and again...and please do feel free to pass along your suggestions as well, anytime you see something around here that you think could be improved. I can't guarantee that we'll necessarily accept your suggestion - but we'll definitely consider it and, if we feel that it's worthwhile, we'll discuss it at our monthly board meeting."

  Ron yawned and Sarah nodded slowly.

  "Anyways," said Amy, sensing that they were both tired and getting restless, "I think I've talked your ear off enough for one day. I've pretty much said everything I need to for now...there's always time later for me to pull you aside and just check up on how you're doing and refresh your memory about our house rules if I feel the need."

  Sarah mustered a small smile.

  "But...that being said...do either of you have any questions for me?"

  Sarah thought for a minute. "Uh...yeah...how long can we stay for?"

  Amy nodded as though she felt Sarah's question was a good one.

  "We like to see residents move on after ninety days - because we are intended to be a temporary stop for people. In order to serve as many needy people as possible, we need to keep the door turning - we can't have people staying six months or a year. That being said, we do look at each case individually and so, if after ninety days you do not feel that you are able to leave...we can extend your stay by a few weeks."

  Sarah nodded.

  "I will say," Amy continued, "that most - not all - but most of our residents are able to leave before the ninety days...because you have to keep in mind that throughout your entire stay here you are getting job training, counseling, career advice, resume help - you name it. We'll help you find an affordable apartment...a job...a doctor - speaking of which - I meant to ask...do either you or Ron have any medical needs that need to be addressed at this time? Other than what you filled in on the admittance form that I gave you?"

  Ron spoke before Sarah could. "Yes! My ankle. It was sprained or something...I don't know. It really hurts. Not today. But...like yesterday...it really hurt."

  Amy looked concerned. "Really? Is that why you're in the wheelchair?"

  "Yeah."

  "So you're otherwise fully able to move?"

  Ron nodded.

  "Whose idea was the wheelchair?" she asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

  Sarah blushed because she could tell Amy was intrigued by the fact that Ron was using a wheelchair for an injured ankle.

  "It was my idea. I figured that if I got him a wheelchair, he wouldn't have to walk on his bad ankle."

  "Well, what a great idea you had, Jessica. That's excellent. That's the type of thinking we like to see people doing around here."

  Amy turned her attention to Ron. "So I'll take you to the doctor tomorrow morning then - after breakfast. Would that be alright, big sister?"

  Sarah smiled. "Of course."

  "Good. We have a great community clinic two blocks up and they're always very good with our residents. I have to take Yolanda there tomorrow - her daughter needs a check-up - so it's no problem to take you as well."

  She looked at Ron.

  "Sound good?"

  Ron nodded.

  "That's perfect," added Sarah, thinking ahead to her mission to visit her dad the following morning. Without Ron she'd be able to move a lot faster.

  "Great...so after breakfast Ron...you'll come and meet me here, okay? Let's say...nine-thirty."

  "Okay."

  Sarah nodded. "That's great. Thank you so much."

  "Oh - this is what we do every day for people, Jessica. No need to thank us. Just follow the rules and contribute in a positive and constructive way to Anthony's - and you can thank us that way."

  "We'll try."

  "Good."

  Amy finished what was in her mug and clapped her hands together. "Okay then. We've got your admittance form filled out, I've explained the rules to you - well the most important ones - and don't get me wrong," she said, a broad smile dancing across her face, "they're all important - but the most important ones are that you adhere to our zero drug and alcohol policy and that you stick to your colour team and eat with them and help them with whatever chores Team Purple is assigned. Got it?"

  "Yeah."

  "Good. Now you both look like you could use a nap so how about I show you to your room?"

  "That would be great."

  "Alright. Let's go."

  - 8 -

>   SETTLING IN

  Their bedroom was nothing spectacular. Sparse and tidy, it was almost too small for the two bunk beds and the desk that it held.

  Sarah was slowly waking up from her nap. Lying in her bunk, she gazed at a spot on the wall that she hoped was a blemish in the paint and not a spider.

  Across the room, Ron sat upright in his bunk, thoroughly engrossed in his video game. She was sure that the obnoxious, repetitive sounds of coins being collected and baddies being stomped was what had woken her - mind you, supper was at five o'clock and - what time was it? She glanced at the red, duck-shaped clock on the desk beside her.

  4:46.

  If they went down now they could get a good spot in line - maybe they'd even get to go first.

  "Hey rooster. Are you ready for supper?"

  "In a minute - I just have to finish this level."

  "Alright, one minute - hurry up though because I'm hungry."

  "Okay."

  As she had predicted however, Ron's "minute" turned in to five and by the time they'd managed to catch the elevator to the main level and make it to the dining hall, supper was already being served.

  Seeing the long line at the food counter, Sarah was annoyed Ron had delayed them until she learned that tables drew straws to determine the order in which they were served.

  Annette had drawn for their table that evening and earned them the right to dish up second. Sarah wheeled Ron across the room to the purple table. A chair was taken away and she parked Ron in the vacant space before taking a seat beside him.

  While they waited for their turn to dish up, Ron and Sarah got to know some of the other residents from their floor. Annette was middle-aged and originally from Jamaica. Her husband had passed away, suddenly, that summer - leaving her with no money and no income. She lost her apartment when she could no longer afford to pay rent and Annette explained to Sarah that Anthony's was helping her to register for social assistance and to find a new apartment.

  Immediately to Sarah's right sat Selma, a new mother who had fled an abusive husband just two weeks earlier. (At least that's the story Annette gave her.)

  Her infant son Amir lay in a bassinette beside her, sucking a pacifier.

  At the far end of the table was John, and Sarah summed him up with three adjectives: loud, obnoxious, cave man. Ron disagreed with her assessment of John and laughed several times at his ability to squirt water from his nose. Apart from Annette, John, and Selma, the six other members of Team Purple sat in stony silence, their minds clearly on other things. Sarah didn't try and talk to them.

  When it was their turn to dish up, Sarah left Ron at the table and followed the group to the food counter at the front of the dining hall. She collected two plates and two sets of cutlery - one for her and one for Ron. Cups and pitchers of water and juice were already at the table.

  A skinny, white guy whose dreadlocks poked through his ball cap was in charge of mashed potatoes and Sarah accepted a scoop on each plate.

  She thanked him and advanced with the line. When she looked up, she noticed a girl behind the food counter staring directly at her.

  Sarah scowled, narrowing her eyes, and the girl looked away.

  Who was she? A resident? Dressed in a lime green shirt with her dark brown hair largely hidden beneath a black ball cap, Sarah guessed that she was roughly the same age.

  She was serving what looked to Sarah like Caesar salad.

  "Peas and carrots, my dear?" asked an old woman with badly dyed, "blonde" hair.

  Sarah nodded without taking her eyes off the mystery girl further ahead.

  "You could at least say please, young lady."

  Sarah turned to face the old woman in front of her.

  "I'm sorry. I'll have some peas and carrots, please."

  The woman wasn't sure whether her reply was sarcastic or sincere and she sloppily dropped a scoop onto the two plates in Sarah's hands.

  "You're welcome."

  "Thanks."

  Sarah moved forwards. Five servers stood between her and the mystery girl.

  Caesar salad was her favourite - and she didn't want to miss out - but she didn't feel like talking to the girl and so Sarah cut out of line after getting two slabs of meat loaf.

  Carefully balancing their plates, she returned to the table .

  "Here you go little brother...bon appetit."

  "Meat loaf! Awesome!"

  Sarah smiled at his enthusiasm.

  "And hopefully it's a lot better than the meat loaf from Mauricio's."

  (Mauricio's was the greasy spoon Hank and Gloria always ordered from whenever they felt obliged to feed Ron and Sarah.)

  Sarah sat down and they dug into their meals, not speaking until their plates were licked clean and not even a pea remained. Sarah had looked over at the mystery girl several times while eating, but only for a second, and every time the girl was either busy serving someone or looking casually in the opposite direction.

  When they were finished eating, Annette reported that it was Team Purple's job that evening to do dishes and clean up. Sarah's groans made Selma laugh.

  "It's not so bad."

  Sarah made a face.

  "We work very quickly. It will not take so long, I think."

  The dining hall began to empty ten minutes later and while Ron wheeled himself to the rec room, Sarah dragged herself to the kitchen. Wynona handed her gloves and an apron and assigned her the task of scrubbing pots. Sarah hated doing dishes - that was one thing (perhaps the only thing) she'd liked about living with the Smolinski's: they always ordered take-out or ate microwave dinners because Gloria was too lazy to cook - and so there were never any dishes to do.

  She made her way to the dish pit and began filling one of the large, metal sinks with hot water. She added a dollop of soap and then got to work scrubbing out a pot the size of a small rain barrel.

  It had been the pot used to cook the potatoes and no amount of soap or elbow grease seemed to remove the large patches of potato starch.

  "You know it's easier if you use a scour pad," called a voice from behind her.

  Sarah whirled around and found herself face-to-face with the mystery girl.

  "You."

  "Yeah. Me. My name's Rachel. I saw you at supper and I was going to say hey...but you didn't seem too keen."

  Sarah wasn't sure whether she should be on her guard or not. Could she trust this stranger?

  It would be nice to talk to a girl my own age for a change.

  She'd use her fake name though - just to be on the safe side.

  "Sorry. It's been a tough week. My name's Jessica."

  She gave Rachel a quick once over. She wasn't exceedingly beautiful, but she wasn't someone that Sarah would consider "ugly" either.

  She was Sarah's height, and slender - but not athletic. Well maybe volleyball. She had a lot of freckles on her face - but her dark, brown eyes grabbed you and drew your attention away from them.

  "Are you a resident too?"

  Sarah suddenly realized that she was still wearing her goofy, yellow latex gloves and she hurried to slip them off her hands.

  "No - although I'm here so much that it feels like it...I'm a volunteer...my parents' idea of a punishment."

  Sarah was curious. "How's that?"

  "It's a long story," answered Rachel with a smirk. "Here, (she passed Sarah a ball-shaped, metal scour pad), put your gloves back on and get scrubbing and I'll tell you all about it. Wynona will kill us if she sees us standing around.

  Sarah wasn't used to taking orders, but she'd already decided Rachel was worth it and she hurried to put her gloves back on and resume scrubbing.

  "So basically," Rachel began as she tipped a stack of dirty plates into the sink, "my friend Stacey scored Brittany Shears tickets from Live 95."

  "Oh my God! Did she invite you!?"

  "Oh yeah. The only thing was that the concert was in Hamilton."

  "I remember that. That was like..."

  "I
n August."

  "Yeah."

  "Two months ago. And yeah, so anyways, Hamilton's like, a one-hour drive from the city and we figured since it was summer and all that my mom or dad would drive us. And also since her mom doesn't drive or have a car."

  "Okay," said Sarah, stepping back as Rachel sprayed leftover salad from a bowl and water flew everywhere.

  "Well, my parents were both busy with work and told me they couldn't take us."

  "But you had tickets!"

  "I know!"

  "So what did you guys do?"

  "Well," said Rachel, grinning mischievously, "we took my dad's van."

  "No way!"

  Rachel giggled. "Yeah way! You even said it yourself! We had tickets! You know how hard it is to get Brittany Shears tickets!?"

  "I know, I know. But stealing your dad's van - when you don't even have your license - do you have your license?"

  "Hell no. I don't even have my G2."

  {Author's note: A G2 is a learner's permit in Ontario}

  "Holy...and I thought I did crazy stuff..."

  "Yeah, well. Look where it got me," said Rachel gloomily, removing a chunk of meat loaf from a plate with a jet of water.

  "How did you get caught?"

  "Well my dad called the cops and reported the van stolen."

  "Holy - "

  "Yeah, and he reported me missing."

  Sarah stopped scrubbing.

  "And? So how did you get caught?"

  "Well, we had no idea of course that my dad had reported the van as being stolen and all so when we got back to the city a cop actually pulled us over. I guess they were looking for us...so they called my mom who freaked - and Stacey's mom - and they came and picked us up from the police station. My dad wouldn't talk to me for like a week after. He was pissed."

  Wynona came through the kitchen doors and Rachel stopped talking.

  "How are the dishes coming, girls?"

  "Pretty good, Wynona."

  "That's what I like to hear," sang the plump supervisor. "Are you showing Sarah the ropes?"

  "Yep. She's a natural."

  "Good. I'm glad. Now get a move on - we've got lots more dishes coming your way."

  "Okay."

  Wynona left the kitchen and Rachel made a face.

  "She's nice but she can be annoying sometimes...anyways, my dad was so pissed and my mom said that instead of grounding me that they were making me work here."

  "For how long?"

  "Every Thursday, Friday and Saturday for six months."

  "Holy crap!"

  "Yeah, the judge agreed that this could count as my community service and he said that if I do it for the full six months, I won't have a record. And I'll still be able to get my G2 when I'm sixteen."

  "Dude, you are so lucky to get off that easy."

  "Tell me about it - but, sheesh - it totally sucks not being able to hang out with my friends on weekends. It's totally killed my social life...oh well, eh? Three and a half months to go..."

  "Yeah..."

  They finished the dishes and when Wynona came in half an hour later, they were seated on two upside down buckets, helping themselves to some of tomorrow's fruit salad.

  "GIRLS!"

  "Uh oh."

  "Sorry Wynona. We were bored...and hungry."

  "I don't care! That's for tomorrow!"

  Red-faced and with her mouth set into a thin line, she wrenched the bowl from Rachel and carried it to the counter.

  "I only picked out the blueberries..."

  "I don't care. Next time you two can wipe down tables and sweep the dining hall - I don't trust you in the kitchen anymore - and just think - this is only Sarah's first night. Way to set an example."

  "I'm sorry, Wynona," Rachel whined, knowing that Wynona wouldn't stay mad for long.

  "It's time for you to go home anyways. Your dad's waiting outside. Sarah, off to bed with you. I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow. Team Purple has lunch clean up. Make sure you're here."

  Sarah felt as though she should fix the sudden mess she founder herself in.

  "Okay. I'll be here. And Wynona?"

  "Yes?"

  "I'll help clean up at supper tomorrow night too - to make up for eating some of the fruit salad."

  Judging by her expression, Sarah thought she would say no. Instead though, the woman's expression softened.

  "Okay. Alright...but from now on - no more funny stuff. You're not allowed food from the walk-in. If you're still hungry after supper, you can have leftovers. But no digging in the walk-in and attacking food meant for tomorrow. Alright?"

  "Alright," said Sarah, happy Wynona had forgiven her.

  In addition, not only had she made up for her little miscue, but she'd given herself a chance to spend more time with Rachel.

  "Alright then. Rachel, you're gone. See you tomorrow at five. Sarah, I believe Ron is patiently waiting for you to take him upstairs. The rec room closed ten minutes ago."

  "Alright."

  '"G'night Jessica. It was nice meeting you."

  "G'night. See you tomorrow."

  The girls parted company and Sarah made her way through the dining hall towards the elevator. Ron was seated in his wheelchair playing his video game.

  "Sair - just wait until you see the rec room! It has everything! A computer, a Nintendo Wii, board games, a foosball table, a dart board,..."

  Sarah smiled to herself and drowned out her brother's commentary with a happy thought. After more than two months of not seeing Julia Whittaker, she'd finally made a new friend.

  - 9 -

  NORMAN FOSTER

  The following morning, Sarah stood in front of the bathroom mirror, examining her appearance one final time. It would be her first time seeing her dad - and she wanted to look her best. After several minutes, when she was confident that her hair was as good as it was going to get and that the small zit on her forehead was covered with enough foundation to make it (almost) unnoticeable, she returned to her room. She didn't have as much time as she would have liked to get ready as Amy had already taken Ron to the Bronson Street Community Clinic and they would be back for lunch. It was half past nine which meant she only had two and a half hours.

  She considered that not having seen her father - two hours with him would literally be an eternity - but then again, seeing as it was her first time seeing her father - shouldn't she spend as much time with him as possible?

  You're over-analyzing it again Sarah. After today, you'll have plenty of time to hang out with your dad.

  With that happy thought, Sarah pulled on her shoes, slung the bag over her shoulder and left the room. Selma stopped her in the hallway for a quick question about lunch that day ("Does all pea soup contain pork?") and going down the stairs she got stuck behind a slow-moving blind man. But after several minutes she was finally outside and walking towards Dundas Street.

  I can't believe I'm actually going to see my dad today! What will I say? Will he like me?

  After checking her map (one of the few little freebies she'd gotten from Anthony's Mission), she found the nearest Dundas Street subway station.

  She knew the subway system well (the only benefit of making so many deliveries in the city for Hank) and she exited at the Queen Street station.

  Outside, she walked the one block to Bay Street. Her dad's office was on Bay Street - but she wasn't sure of the number. She removed her dad's business card from her pocket to double check the address.