herself either giggling or weeping or both at random intervals throughout the day.
At dinner, the other head girls whispered about her, but no one spoke to her. Her fears of arousing suspicion seemed silly. If she had gone stark raving mad, no one would have cared. None of the sisters would have shown the slightest interest, as long as she met quota and got her girls out of bed on time.
At nine o’clock, Anna lay on her back, waiting. The giddiness finally came, in waves alternating with dread. The little ones snored little snores. Jane gibbered in her sleep. Anna waited. Wondering what would happen if her collaborator didn’t show up. Wondering where they would go from the factory.
Why the factory?
Why not the loading dock?
Or the back entrance to the kitchen?
Where will I sleep tomorrow night?
Will I even be alive tomorrow night?
The bell, in its lonely tower, struck nine thirty. Anna rose. She slipped her pinky out from beneath her pillow and hung it around her neck. Abbess McCain had ordered her to wear it at all times, as a reminder of her sins, but that wasn’t why she wore it now. She was going, and she had no intention of leaving a single piece of herself behind.
Anna slipped into her work dress and shawl. For the first time in five days, she pulled her shoes off, hoping to move silently in bare feet. Carrying her shoes and the key, she crept to the old door and leaned her ear against it. Nothing stirred.
She knelt down and peered through the key hole. Across the hall, on a maroon tinted tapestry, a woman martyr writhed in agony of fire. In the corridor, few candles flickered and no one waited.
Anna slid the key into its hole, wincing at the barely audible scraping sound. As she turned it, ever so slowly, she realized that she had never considered the possibility the key might not fit. It would have been a wasted worry. The lock clicked open with no resistance.
“What are you doing?” A high-pitched whisper, so close the lips must have been touching her shoulder.
Anna spun around, choking her scream. Mary Two stood behind her, holding her blanket up to her chin. Straw clung to her hair, smaller bits stuck to the snot trail under her nose.
“Mary!” Anna struggled to keep her voice at the level of a whisper, “go back to bed. This instant.”
“You aren’t s’posed to be doing that.”
“Quiet, Mary, go back to bed.” Then she added, “I am supposed to be doing this. It’s head girl duties.”
“Lizzy said we need to keep an eye on you ‘cause if you go loopy Sister Eustace won’t feed us anymore.”
“She…What? No, Mary, you must be quiet,” Anna whispered, her nerves jangling like Sister Eustace’s key ring. “Lay down now and hush up!”
Mary backed away from her, looking toward the pile of straw. “Lizzy…” Her tentative voice rose, no longer a whisper but not quite the volume of normal speech. She would be yelling soon.
Anna rushed her, clamping her hand over the little girl’s mouth. They tumbled together into the straw. Mary tried to thrash free, but Anna wrapped one arm around both of Mary’s and used the weight of her body to hold the girl still. Her right hand, over Mary’s mouth, pushed her head into the straw. Anna pinched Mary’s nose shut with her thumb and forefinger. The panic in the younger girl’s eyes burned as bright and feverish as it did in Anna‘s.
Anna pushed her face to Mary’s until their noses touched. She could feel Mary sucking against her palm, desperate for a breath, but Anna held her fast, glaring into her eyes. You have to be quiet, screamed through her head. It took all Anna’s will not to scream it out loud. Her body trembled all over. She felt the girl under her kicking the straw, felt her chest spasm and hitch for air.
The unlocked door floated open on its silent hinges. Candlelight spilled across Mary’s face, revealing her black, terrified eyes and her bluing skin. Anna’s own drowned face from the cistern flashed into her
At dinner, the other head girls whispered about her, but no one spoke to her. Her fears of arousing suspicion seemed silly. If she had gone stark raving mad, no one would have cared. None of the sisters would have shown the slightest interest, as long as she met quota and got her girls out of bed on time.
At nine o’clock, Anna lay on her back, waiting. The giddiness finally came, in waves alternating with dread. The little ones snored little snores. Jane gibbered in her sleep. Anna waited. Wondering what would happen if her collaborator didn’t show up. Wondering where they would go from the factory.
Why the factory?
Why not the loading dock?
Or the back entrance to the kitchen?
Where will I sleep tomorrow night?
Will I even be alive tomorrow night?
The bell, in its lonely tower, struck nine thirty. Anna rose. She slipped her pinky out from beneath her pillow and hung it around her neck. Abbess McCain had ordered her to wear it at all times, as a reminder of her sins, but that wasn’t why she wore it now. She was going, and she had no intention of leaving a single piece of herself behind.
Anna slipped into her work dress and shawl. For the first time in five days, she pulled her shoes off, hoping to move silently in bare feet. Carrying her shoes and the key, she crept to the old door and leaned her ear against it. Nothing stirred.
She knelt down and peered through the key hole. Across the hall, on a maroon tinted tapestry, a woman martyr writhed in agony of fire. In the corridor, few candles flickered and no one waited.
Anna slid the key into its hole, wincing at the barely audible scraping sound. As she turned it, ever so slowly, she realized that she had never considered the possibility the key might not fit. It would have been a wasted worry. The lock clicked open with no resistance.
“What are you doing?” A high-pitched whisper, so close the lips must have been touching her shoulder.
Anna spun around, choking her scream. Mary Two stood behind her, holding her blanket up to her chin. Straw clung to her hair, smaller bits stuck to the snot trail under her nose.
“Mary!” Anna struggled to keep her voice at the level of a whisper, “go back to bed. This instant.”
“You aren’t s’posed to be doing that.”
“Quiet, Mary, go back to bed.” Then she added, “I am supposed to be doing this. It’s head girl duties.”
“Lizzy said we need to keep an eye on you ‘cause if you go loopy Sister Eustace won’t feed us anymore.”
“She…What? No, Mary, you must be quiet,” Anna whispered, her nerves jangling like Sister Eustace’s key ring. “Lay down now and hush up!”
Mary backed away from her, looking toward the pile of straw. “Lizzy…” Her tentative voice rose, no longer a whisper but not quite the volume of normal speech. She would be yelling soon.
Anna rushed her, clamping her hand over the little girl’s mouth. They tumbled together into the straw. Mary tried to thrash free, but Anna wrapped one arm around both of Mary’s and used the weight of her body to hold the girl still. Her right hand, over Mary’s mouth, pushed her head into the straw. Anna pinched Mary’s nose shut with her thumb and forefinger. The panic in the younger girl’s eyes burned as bright and feverish as it did in Anna‘s.
Anna pushed her face to Mary’s until their noses touched. She could feel Mary sucking against her palm, desperate for a breath, but Anna held her fast, glaring into her eyes. You have to be quiet, screamed through her head. It took all Anna’s will not to scream it out loud. Her body trembled all over. She felt the girl under her kicking the straw, felt her chest spasm and hitch for air.
The unlocked door floated open on its silent hinges. Candlelight spilled across Mary’s face, revealing her black, terrified eyes and her bluing skin. Anna’s own drowned face from the cistern flashed into her
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