smile. “I’ll report every suspicious tofu dog I see.”
“Just keep your eyes open,” Evelyn insists.
About twenty of us gather around Mrs. Brewster. She takes a folded piece of paper from her pocket and lays it flat on the nearest table. “Find your assigned shift here. This is the shift you will work for the entire two weeks of your kitchen staff rotation.”
The girls crowd the table to see if they’ve gotten breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I hang back and notice that Rosie is over by Devi with the other cleanup crew girls. I wonder if she feels as insulted by the cleanup assignment as Maddie does. All different girls are in her group. It doesn’t seem to me that anyone has been singled out to work cleanup for any reason. Why does Maddie have to be like that?
Once the first rush of girls leaves the table, I move forward to find my assignment. I groan when I see it.Breakfast! And I have to be there for prep work by four thirty in the morning!
“Follow me to the kitchen,” Mrs. Brewster instructs us. She leads us to a large room with a high ceiling. The fixtures and cabinets look about a hundred years old, deep white porcelain sinks, white metal cabinets. Bulky ovens with heavy doors. The walls are all covered in large white tile and the small floor tiles are in a black-and-white checkerboard pattern.
I’m surprised to find myself taking note of all these details — Evelyn telling me to keep my eyes open seems to have made me more observant.
Mrs. Brewster takes us around, showing where everything is located. In the refrigerator I see the usual — white lettuce, soy cheese, soy milk — and the pantries are full of canned vegetables and fruits. Most of the products are from NutriCorp, which has a big Canadian maple leaf on its logo. Food from a Canadian corporation. I smile to myself. Evelyn will definitely have a wild idea about that!
I’m back in the suite by seven, just in time for curfew.Evelyn and Rosie’s door is closed. The door to the room I share with Maddie is also shut tight.
It’s just as well. Whatever’s bugging Maddie, I’m not ready to listen to it. I’m just as happy not to see her. I would like some company, though.
I sigh, alone in the dark living room. The only light is the last rays of dusk making it through the tall windows. I’m just not in the mood to sleep right now and I wish Evelyn were still up.
I remember that last night we were given an oil lamp for our table. It’s so that we can do a little homework at night in the winter months, but even these need to be doused by eight, when the last round of Student Leaguers checks in and we’re expected to go to sleep. I uncover the glass globe, light the wick, and adjust the flame. Putting the globe back, I take a moment to admire the soft amber light it throws over the room.
The quiet light somehow reminds me of home. Suddenly I feel awful about what happened at dinner and I poke my head into the bedroom I’m sharing with Maddie. She lies on her bunk, snoring lightly as always, her social studies textbook open across her chest. I take my locket from my top drawer and gaze at the photos of my parents before clasping the chain around my neck. For a minute, I feel a little less alone.
Returning to the living room, I slide my English reading off the pile of my books on the table and open it to the assigned page. It’s a novel from the 1800s by Charles Dickens called
A Tale of Two Cities,
set during the French Revolution. Most of the class hate it. They say it’s too old-fashioned and hard to read. I find the writing style slow to wade through, too. But the book captured my interest from the very first line: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
I couldn’t stop thinking about that. It seemed to fit my life so well. The world was in an awful state, and yet here I was, having the most exciting, most free, most interesting time ever.
I sit at the table
“Just keep your eyes open,” Evelyn insists.
About twenty of us gather around Mrs. Brewster. She takes a folded piece of paper from her pocket and lays it flat on the nearest table. “Find your assigned shift here. This is the shift you will work for the entire two weeks of your kitchen staff rotation.”
The girls crowd the table to see if they’ve gotten breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I hang back and notice that Rosie is over by Devi with the other cleanup crew girls. I wonder if she feels as insulted by the cleanup assignment as Maddie does. All different girls are in her group. It doesn’t seem to me that anyone has been singled out to work cleanup for any reason. Why does Maddie have to be like that?
Once the first rush of girls leaves the table, I move forward to find my assignment. I groan when I see it.Breakfast! And I have to be there for prep work by four thirty in the morning!
“Follow me to the kitchen,” Mrs. Brewster instructs us. She leads us to a large room with a high ceiling. The fixtures and cabinets look about a hundred years old, deep white porcelain sinks, white metal cabinets. Bulky ovens with heavy doors. The walls are all covered in large white tile and the small floor tiles are in a black-and-white checkerboard pattern.
I’m surprised to find myself taking note of all these details — Evelyn telling me to keep my eyes open seems to have made me more observant.
Mrs. Brewster takes us around, showing where everything is located. In the refrigerator I see the usual — white lettuce, soy cheese, soy milk — and the pantries are full of canned vegetables and fruits. Most of the products are from NutriCorp, which has a big Canadian maple leaf on its logo. Food from a Canadian corporation. I smile to myself. Evelyn will definitely have a wild idea about that!
I’m back in the suite by seven, just in time for curfew.Evelyn and Rosie’s door is closed. The door to the room I share with Maddie is also shut tight.
It’s just as well. Whatever’s bugging Maddie, I’m not ready to listen to it. I’m just as happy not to see her. I would like some company, though.
I sigh, alone in the dark living room. The only light is the last rays of dusk making it through the tall windows. I’m just not in the mood to sleep right now and I wish Evelyn were still up.
I remember that last night we were given an oil lamp for our table. It’s so that we can do a little homework at night in the winter months, but even these need to be doused by eight, when the last round of Student Leaguers checks in and we’re expected to go to sleep. I uncover the glass globe, light the wick, and adjust the flame. Putting the globe back, I take a moment to admire the soft amber light it throws over the room.
The quiet light somehow reminds me of home. Suddenly I feel awful about what happened at dinner and I poke my head into the bedroom I’m sharing with Maddie. She lies on her bunk, snoring lightly as always, her social studies textbook open across her chest. I take my locket from my top drawer and gaze at the photos of my parents before clasping the chain around my neck. For a minute, I feel a little less alone.
Returning to the living room, I slide my English reading off the pile of my books on the table and open it to the assigned page. It’s a novel from the 1800s by Charles Dickens called
A Tale of Two Cities,
set during the French Revolution. Most of the class hate it. They say it’s too old-fashioned and hard to read. I find the writing style slow to wade through, too. But the book captured my interest from the very first line: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
I couldn’t stop thinking about that. It seemed to fit my life so well. The world was in an awful state, and yet here I was, having the most exciting, most free, most interesting time ever.
I sit at the table
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