some clothes. In the car, she explained more about Catholic Children’s Aid.
Jules found it impossible to say more than yes or no to Eileen. Her mouth was dry, and her tongue felt swollen.
It was terrible having a stranger, a social worker, come into their house.
I feel like I’m under arrest
.
“I don’t need you,” Jules cried out suddenly, in a panic, her voice breaking. “Get out! I’m not going anywhere. I have to be here for when my dad comes back! He’s coming back. You can’t take me anywhere. You can’t!”
“It’s all right, Jules. It’s okay. I’m only here to help you and your dad. And part of my job right now is helping you find him. I’m going to leave my contact information for him, both here and at his work, so he can get in touch with me when he comes back. I know you’re very worried about him. But you can’t be on your own.” Eileen kept looking around the shabby kitchen as she spoke.
I’m always on my own, you idiot. I don’t need anybody to look after me – except my dad. Get the hell out of here!
Jules sat down in a kitchen chair and wouldn’t move. “No, I’m not going,” she said. She held on to the seat of the chair with an iron grip.
Eileen found a beat-up suitcase in her father’s closet, but Jules refused to pack any of her clothes. Eileen had to do it.
No. No. No
.
Eventually, Eileen got Jules – somehow – to move, to walk out of that house. She used words that were meant to be kind, about finding her dad and helping them both, but mixed in were words about the law and Catholic Children’s Aid. The outside world was grabbing her, reaching in and pulling Jules away from her dad, her life. And there was nothing she could do about it.
Eileen drove Jules to downtown Toronto. She explained that they were going to an emergency home, where children like Jules stayed after they were taken by Catholic Children’s Aid. Jules had thoughtshe was going to be put in some kind of orphanage, but it turned out to be just an old house on Roncesvalles. Mrs. Currie was the owner. As they walked through the front door, children seemed to be screaming and running everywhere. Jules barely noticed anything else.
Help me, somebody. Help me. I have to get out of here!
Mrs. Currie gave Jules something to eat, but Jules pushed the food away. Eileen sat down with Jules and began asking a lot of questions about Jules’s dad and their life together. She even asked about her mom. Jules just shook her head
yes
or
no
.
I’m not going to say anything. Not going to betray my dad more than I’ve already done
.
Jules wasn’t going to talk about his angry moods or the endless drinking. And yet these were the things Eileen wanted to hear about – like she was a detective for the bad in people. Eileen also asked Jules about the bruise on her cheek, about whether her dad or anyone else hurt her.
Dad spanks me sometimes. So what? Lots of parents spank their kids. You’re turning him into a bad man
.
Eileen left around seven-thirty. Mrs. Currie was watching TV in the living room with the other kids. Jules told Mrs. Currie she was tired, and Mrs. Currie took her up the narrow, creaky stairs to the second floor, showed Jules where the bathroom was and where she was supposed to sleep.
Jules stood in the middle of the bedroom, hearing nothing as Mrs. Currie spoke to her. The room washot, stuffy. The smell of bleach was strong, and when she breathed in, Jules could almost taste it on her tongue. Toys were scattered across the wooden floor. Two blue dressers flanked the large window, which looked out onto the street, and crayon scribbles covered every inch of the gray-white walls. Jules’s small suitcase rested on the bottom bunk of the bunk bed against one wall.
As soon as Mrs. Currie left her, Jules changed into her pajamas and opened the bedroom door before lying down on the bunk bed. She listened to the sounds of TV and people moving around downstairs. An hour later, two boys and a young
Jules found it impossible to say more than yes or no to Eileen. Her mouth was dry, and her tongue felt swollen.
It was terrible having a stranger, a social worker, come into their house.
I feel like I’m under arrest
.
“I don’t need you,” Jules cried out suddenly, in a panic, her voice breaking. “Get out! I’m not going anywhere. I have to be here for when my dad comes back! He’s coming back. You can’t take me anywhere. You can’t!”
“It’s all right, Jules. It’s okay. I’m only here to help you and your dad. And part of my job right now is helping you find him. I’m going to leave my contact information for him, both here and at his work, so he can get in touch with me when he comes back. I know you’re very worried about him. But you can’t be on your own.” Eileen kept looking around the shabby kitchen as she spoke.
I’m always on my own, you idiot. I don’t need anybody to look after me – except my dad. Get the hell out of here!
Jules sat down in a kitchen chair and wouldn’t move. “No, I’m not going,” she said. She held on to the seat of the chair with an iron grip.
Eileen found a beat-up suitcase in her father’s closet, but Jules refused to pack any of her clothes. Eileen had to do it.
No. No. No
.
Eventually, Eileen got Jules – somehow – to move, to walk out of that house. She used words that were meant to be kind, about finding her dad and helping them both, but mixed in were words about the law and Catholic Children’s Aid. The outside world was grabbing her, reaching in and pulling Jules away from her dad, her life. And there was nothing she could do about it.
Eileen drove Jules to downtown Toronto. She explained that they were going to an emergency home, where children like Jules stayed after they were taken by Catholic Children’s Aid. Jules had thoughtshe was going to be put in some kind of orphanage, but it turned out to be just an old house on Roncesvalles. Mrs. Currie was the owner. As they walked through the front door, children seemed to be screaming and running everywhere. Jules barely noticed anything else.
Help me, somebody. Help me. I have to get out of here!
Mrs. Currie gave Jules something to eat, but Jules pushed the food away. Eileen sat down with Jules and began asking a lot of questions about Jules’s dad and their life together. She even asked about her mom. Jules just shook her head
yes
or
no
.
I’m not going to say anything. Not going to betray my dad more than I’ve already done
.
Jules wasn’t going to talk about his angry moods or the endless drinking. And yet these were the things Eileen wanted to hear about – like she was a detective for the bad in people. Eileen also asked Jules about the bruise on her cheek, about whether her dad or anyone else hurt her.
Dad spanks me sometimes. So what? Lots of parents spank their kids. You’re turning him into a bad man
.
Eileen left around seven-thirty. Mrs. Currie was watching TV in the living room with the other kids. Jules told Mrs. Currie she was tired, and Mrs. Currie took her up the narrow, creaky stairs to the second floor, showed Jules where the bathroom was and where she was supposed to sleep.
Jules stood in the middle of the bedroom, hearing nothing as Mrs. Currie spoke to her. The room washot, stuffy. The smell of bleach was strong, and when she breathed in, Jules could almost taste it on her tongue. Toys were scattered across the wooden floor. Two blue dressers flanked the large window, which looked out onto the street, and crayon scribbles covered every inch of the gray-white walls. Jules’s small suitcase rested on the bottom bunk of the bunk bed against one wall.
As soon as Mrs. Currie left her, Jules changed into her pajamas and opened the bedroom door before lying down on the bunk bed. She listened to the sounds of TV and people moving around downstairs. An hour later, two boys and a young
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