ALSO BY GENNIFER CHOLDENKO
Al Capone Does My Shirts
Al Capone Does My Homework
Al Capone Shines My Shoes
Al Capone Throws Me a Curve
Chasing Secrets
If a Tree Falls at Lunch Period
No Passengers Beyond This Point
Notes from a Liar and Her Dog
One-Third Nerd
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2020 by Gennifer Choldenko
Cover art copyright © 2020 by Iacopo Bruno
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Wendy Lamb Books, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
Wendy Lamb Books and the colophon are trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
Visit us on the Web! rhcbooks.com
Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at RHTeachersLibrarians.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Choldenko, Gennifer, author.
Title: Orphan eleven / Gennifer Choldenko. Description: First edition. | New York : Wendy Lamb Books, [2020] | Includes bibliographical references. | Summary: In 1939, after cruel treatment at her orphanage renders her mute, Lucy runs away and joins the circus, working with the elephants and unaware that the orphanage matrons are hunting for her.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019023493 (print) | LCCN 2019023494 (ebook) | ISBN 978-0-385-74255-9 (hardcover) | ISBN 978-0-375-99064-9 (library binding) | ISBN 978-0-385-74256-6 (paperback) | ISBN 978-0-307-97578-2 (ebook)
Subjects: CYAC: Orphans—Fiction. | Orphanages—Fiction. | Selective mutism—Fiction. | Runaways—Fiction. | Circus—Fiction. | Elephants—Fiction. | Human experimentation in medicine—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.C446265 Or 2020 (print) | LCC PZ7.C446265 (ebook) | DDC [Fic]—dc23
Ebook ISBN 9780307975782
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
Penguin Random House LLC supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to publish books for every reader.
ep_prh_5.5.0_c0_r0
To Meredith Bullock, my “big sister,”
to David Macaulay, who believed in me,
and to Alan Blum. He knows why.
Contents
Cover
Also by Gennifer Choldenko
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Part One
Chapter One: Home for Friendless Children
Chapter Two: “Smartest Man in Chicago”
Chapter Three: “No Orphan Borrows”
Chapter Four: “First Sound Come Out”
Chapter Five: The Smell of Frying Bacon
Chapter Six: “Firecracker Smart”
Chapter Seven: A Lie They Told Orphans
Part Two
Chapter Eight: “Encyclopedia of the Incredible”
Chapter Nine: “The World’s Smallest Man Meets the World’s Largest Dog.”
Chapter Ten: “You Used to Talk, Like Everybody Else”
Chapter Eleven: At the Bottom of the Skinny Gray Stick of a Tail
Chapter Twelve: “Ever Since Mackinac Picked Her”
Chapter Thirteen: “The One You Got to Worry About”
Chapter Fourteen: “Our New Favorite OOFO”
Chapter Fifteen: Breathing Lessons
Chapter Sixteen: Glittering Sparks of Light
Chapter Seventeen: “The Wrongest Possible Side of Diavolo”
Chapter Eighteen: “First-of-Mays”
Chapter Nineteen: Vocabulary List
Chapter Twenty: Elephantoff
Chapter Twenty-one: The Elephant Car
Chapter Twenty-two: “John Robinson”
Chapter Twenty-three: “You’re One of Us.”
Part Three
Chapter Twenty-four: “He Doesn’t C-care…About You.”
Chapter Twenty-five: Orphan Eleven
Chapter Twenty-six: OOFOs Looked Out for Each Other.
Chapter Twenty-seven: A Teakettle Whistling
Chapter Twenty-eight: The Blue Ford
Chapter Twenty-nine: Lucy Simone Sauvé
Chapter Thirty: The Route Card
Chapter Thirty-one: Last Train to Chicago
Chapter Thirty-two: Woman in Red
Chapter Thirty-three: “Ward of the State”
Chapter Thirty-four: “You Were Always Such a Chatterbox.”
Chapter Thirty-five: “From When We Were Little”
Chapter Thirty-six: Sawdust in Her Shoes
Author’s Note
Glossary of Circus Terms
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Most kids who ran away got caught. Or they came back on their own sorry feet. Nobody had anywhere to run to or they wouldn’t be in the Home for Friendless Children in the first place.
But it wasn’t every day they were allowed outside the gate.
Even so, Lucy wasn’t about to run. After five years of looking at that wrought-iron fence, it had become as much a part of her as the metal cot she slept on. There wasn’t anything else that was hers. Unless you counted a folded piece of paper, the list of this week’s vocabulary words, the blue button, and the baby tooth in her pocket, and the extra pencil stub stuck in the hem of her dress.
What with the downpour, today was a lousy day to run anyway. Rain dripped off Lucy’s chin and flattened the thick mass of her curly red hair. Rain made her stockings squishy in her too-small shoes. Rain soaked her wool coat, making it feel like the weight of her eleven years was on her back.
It wasn’t like she’d get far with Matron Mackinac not more than five feet from her. Mackinac had piercing eyes, lips the color of dead fish, and a heart like a lump of coal—black and dusty and small.
Lucy had trusted Mackinac once. She’d tried her best to please her by coming early to choir, earning first desk in the schoolroom, and scrubbing the muddy footprints from the hall outside her office. She’d even told the other orphans not to bad-mouth Mrs. Mackinac. Now she hated herself for it.
For the last year and a half, Mackinac had humiliated Lucy every time she opened her mouth. “What a disappointment you are, and I had such high hopes,” Mackinac had said in front of everyone. “You’ll never amount to anything.” The harder Lucy tried, the more Mackinac mocked her.
Where Mackinac had only occasionally noticed her before, now she singled her out for daily torment. In the dark orphanage nights, Lucy wondered if Mackinac and Miss Holland, the lady from the university, were right when they said something was terribly wrong with Lucy. “You are an embarrassment to the orphanage. Everyone can see it.”
Now Mackinac hovered over
Lucy and Bald Doris as they shoveled river sand into burlap bags to staunch leaks in the staff house.
But they were outside the fence and the clean smell of the rain and the glimpse of the world beyond the trees sent a wild thrill through Lucy.
If Lucy’s best friend, Emma, had been there, they could have run together. Emma saved Lucy a place in line, shared the handfuls of sugar she got from the cook, and made Lucy laugh when she missed her big sister, Dilly. “Everybody misses someone. Best not to dwell,” Emma said.
But last week a lady had signed the papers to adopt Emma. With Emma gone, every day was orphanage gray.
Lucy did not want to go anywhere with Bald Doris. Doris was a girl you made sure was in front of you in line so that you could see what she was up to. She lied as easily as other girls tied their shoes. About as often, too.
The rain hammered down on Lucy’s head and battered her shoulders.
In weather like this, it didn’t matter if Lucy spoke or not. No one could hear what anyone said.
Matron Mackinac pulled her oxfords out of the mud and slipped a cough drop between the gap in her teeth. “Lucy, get working!”
Lucy was shoveling. Bald Doris was leaning against the wall. But as usual, it was Lucy whom Mackinac scolded.
“We aren’t even halfway—” Rain drowned out Mackinac’s words. “Stay here,” she shouted, and ran across the grass to the boys’ house.
Lucy’s heart knocked like a woodpecker in her chest. Orphans were never left alone outside the fence.
If only Lucy had had time to plan. Then she’d know which direction to run. No matter which way she chose, Bald Doris would tell Mackinac, but Lucy had fast feet.
Only now it was too late. Mackinac was coming out of the boys’ cottage. Lucy had lost her chance.
The disappointment tasted like blood in Lucy’s mouth.
Mackinac struggled to close the rain-swollen door. Next to her were two boys carrying shovels. One boy was Lucy’s size—small for an eleven-year-old. He had dark hair and a bounce to his walk like the ground sprang him up with every step. The other was as big as a barn door, with falling-down trousers that seemed to need his regular attention. Both had on the charcoal-gray coats all the orphans wore.
The bigger boy nodded to Doris. Doris made a face at him. The boys dug in, shovelheads clinking against each other in the river sand.
Matron Mackinac walked along the line of sandbags set against the side of the house, one hand on the skirt of her umbrella to keep the wind from turning it inside out. She slid the candy around in her mouth, her eyes flicking between the girls and the boys. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back,” she said, and hurried off, her oxfords making squelching noises as she pulled her feet out of the mud.
Lucy took a step forward. But the wind rose, shoving her back, and her right foot returned to its place by her left.
Then the wind died down and the sound of the river filled her ears. All of the awful things that had happened to Lucy at the orphanage came rushing through her head: the humiliating lessons with Miss Holland, the cruelty of Matron Mackinac, the cold sweats on the mornings Mackinac read the list of orphans to be sent to reform school.
Lucy took off across the wet grass and through the trees. She leapt the ditch to the dirt road, her legs sailing under her.
She had just gotten to the river when she heard pounding feet behind her.
Lucy stole a look over her shoulder to see how close Mackinac was.
But it was the big boy, with one hand gripping his trousers, followed by Bald Doris. The smaller boy was gaining on Lucy, his arms pumping with effort.
Mackinac had sent them to catch her. Lucy forced her feet to run faster.
The smaller boy pounded at her heels. “Wait! Hey!”
Get away! The words floated through Lucy’s head, then slipped back down her throat.
“We’re coming with you!” he shouted.
Lucy stopped, her throat burning. She bent over to catch her breath and got a good look at the bigger boy. His ears stuck out of hair that needed cutting, but his blue eyes were unafraid, as if running away were a natural thing to do, like a burp.
Bald Doris was right behind him, scratching her head. The matron had shaved her hair to get rid of lice, but the ointment they rubbed on her scalp made her itch.
The smaller boy had city in him. He was more like the kids Lucy knew back home in Chicago. He squinted at Lucy. “Where we going?”
Cold, wet, and hungry, with blisters forming on her feet, the only idea Lucy could come up with was to find her sister, Dilly, who would be seventeen and nearly a grown-up now.
But Dilly was in Chicago. Lucy had no idea where in the city she lived…or even if she was still there.
The smaller boy’s bright eyes grew large, scrutinizing Lucy. “Let’s introduce ourselves. I’m Nico. That’s Eugene.” He pointed to the bigger boy.
Doris stepped forward. “I’m Doris. Don’t call me Bald Doris.”
“Eugene’s sister?” Nico asked.
“Half sister,” Bald Doris corrected him.
Lucy inspected Eugene. He was twice the size of Doris, but they both had the same round face and fuzzy yellow hair on their arms.
Nico, the dark-haired boy, nodded. “How do you do, Not-Bald-Doris.”
Doris scowled.
Nico turned to Lucy, waiting for her to introduce herself.
Doris took a step forward. “Her name is Lucy,” she said.
Nico nodded, his eyes asking the question Lucy didn’t want to answer. Why hadn’t Lucy said anything?
“Don’t bother talking to her, because she won’t say anything,” Doris said.
Nico shrugged and they started walking again. The dark sky made the late afternoon seem like evening as they moved in and out of the trees on the side of the road. The lights of the cars shone long and low in the mist.
Nico hopped over a stone wall. Lucy and Eugene scrambled after him. Bald Doris was caught in the headlights as she tried to get a toehold.
The car didn’t stop.
“We got to get moving,” Nico said. “They’ll send somebody after us.”
“Matron Grundy,” Eugene said with such certainty that Lucy wondered if he’d run away before.
Lucy and Nico walked together. Eugene stuck close to Doris.
“We’ll find Frank and Alice,” Nico announced.
Lucy glanced over at him. He seemed full to the brim with himself. Even so, she liked how confidently he said “Frank and Alice,” as if he were reading the time from a clock.
“They your parents?” Doris asked.
“No,” Nico said.
“Uncle and aunt?”
“Not exactly. Frank is the smartest man in Chicago.”
Chicago. Frank and Alice lived in Chicago!
Lucy had been six when she’d left Chicago. She’d come to Riverport with her mama to join Mama’s brand-new husband, Thomas Slater, but her big sister, Dilly, had not been with them. At the last minute there’d been no money for Dilly’s ticket, so Dilly had stayed in Chicago with the neighbors, the Sokoloffs, to wait for Mama to wire money. Mama and Lucy had taken the train to meet Thomas Slater. But when they arrived, they found out everything he’d said was a lie. Mr. Slater had no home, no job, no car, and no money. But Mama loved him, so they stayed in Riverport and she got a job as quickly as she could. She found work as a maid for a lady who was very sick with tuberculosis, and then Mama got sick, too. Mama was terrified Lucy would catch TB, so Thomas Slater dropped her at the Home for Friendless Children. “Just until your mama gets back on her feet,” he said.
At the orphanage, Lucy had sent two letters to Dilly at the Sokoloffs. The nice teacher, Miss Ellie, had given her the stamp and mailed the first one. But the envelope had come back stamped ADDRESSEE UNKNOWN, and Miss Ellie said there
was no point in sending another.
After that Lucy made up a song for the postman and sang it to him as he walked along one side of the orphanage fence and she walked on the other. She sang that same song every day, until he’d agreed to take the second letter without a stamp or an envelope. That letter came back like the first: ADDRESSEE UNKNOWN. So Dilly wasn’t living with the Sokoloffs, or the Sokoloffs had moved. Either way, Lucy had no idea where Dilly was.
Now Doris asked, “How do we find Frank and Alice?”
“Hitch a ride to Chicago,” Nico said.
Hope rose inside Lucy at the word “Chicago.” Was Dilly still there?
The orphans moved onto the main highway, where there was a steady stream of cars. They were more likely to get caught out here, but how else could they get a ride?
The ditch that bordered the highway swelled with water. The air smelled new, and the sky was bigger than it had seemed in the stark orphanage yard.
Now that the wild chase was over, Lucy’s toes stung in her too-tight shoes. Orphans’ shoes were always too big or too small.
Nico ran in front, waving down the cars, but no one stopped.
Then Lucy took a turn. Three cars sped by, but the fourth, a pickup truck with loose hay flying out the back, was slowing.
Nico and Eugene grinned at Lucy as they ran toward the truck. But just as it pulled onto the shoulder, an old blue Ford rolled up behind it with Matrons Mackinac and Grundy inside.
“Run!” Nico shouted, taking off down the side bank. Lucy followed him, grabbing the roots of a bush to keep from slipping.
Orphan Eleven Page 1
