That "Freak" of a Girl

The late-July sunshine in London was dazzling, shining through gaps in the thick, lush green leaves onto Rose's face.

She was sitting in a daze on a bench in the corner of Beer Park, watching the water splash from the fountain in the center. It sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight.

In the distance, a few young women were playing with children who were just learning to talk, in the shade of the trees beside the fountain.

Scaffolding was being set up in front of the fountain. Once the sun had fully set, there would be an open-air concert here, and supposedly free ice-cold beer would be served.

That was why Mr. Johnson had sent some of the older children to the park that morning to try their luck. God willing, someone wealthy might take a liking to them and bring them home to help out, so they could find a better way to earn money.

In the distance, Alice was diligently helping the workers, hoping for a chance to serve beer. Sweat ran from her temples to her chin, and the heat had turned her already round cheeks rosy, making her few freckles stand out even more.

Rose lowered her head and stared into space, grinding a few pebbles under the toe of her shoe.

Sensing someone come to a stop in front of her, Rose looked up.

"I'm going to tell Miss Elena-" Alice drawled in a shrill voice, "that all you do is laze around here. Even Becky, the youngest, is working."

"Stop wasting your time. They're just using you as free labor. No one's going to hire seven- or eight-year-olds to work," Rose said. "Mr. Johnson only told us to come try our luck. Maybe none of us will be that lucky-"

"Don't try any more of your little tricks, Rose!" Alice snapped, eyeing her warily.

Rose was one of the prettiest children in the poorhouse. She had been adopted twice in the past seven years, but neither adoption had lasted longer than two years-because strange things always happened beyond anyone's control wherever she stayed!

Behind her back, Alice and the others called her a "freak." No normal child would be returned twice in a row! Now none of the children at the orphanage played with her.

Rose had been in this world for ten years. According to Miss Elena's records, her eleventh birthday would be in a few days, on August 1.

At first, as a baby, she could only take in the world around her without understanding it, her ears full of heavily accented English and the yells and babble of children. By the time she was three, she had figured out that she had been reborn in twentieth-century Britain, in "Frenshem," as the locals called the small town. Tall birch trees grew all across its southern end, while a vast stretch of wasteland lay to the north.

The low red walls and gray-blue sky made up the whole world of Rose's childhood in this life.

When Rose was five, a well-dressed couple offered to adopt her, but only six months later, she was sent back to the poorhouse on the grounds that "strange things happen wherever this child stays."

When she was seven, a kindly elderly couple came to the poorhouse and took Rose home. Two years later, they insisted that Rose could "communicate with the devil" and quickly completed the paperwork to return her once again.

Being returned twice in a row had made the poorhouse director, Mr. Johnson, treat her very badly. Mr. Johnson was a kindly-looking fat old man, and he was the most popular person among the children.

Whether faced with the director's harassment or rejection from children her own age, Rose always seemed not to care. Being able to see the bright, beautiful sun of this world again, to stand in it on two healthy feet, was the greatest fortune.

As long as she could learn a trade or earn a diploma, she might, with luck, find a relatively respectable job once she reached adulthood.

But first, she had to get into school, receive an education, and graduate without trouble.

In twentieth-century Britain, even a school for the poor required a guardian to pay a considerable care fee. Although the government provided some subsidies, the children here still had to go out and work every day. Once well-behaved children reached the right age, Mr. Johnson could act as their guardian and apply to a suitable school for them.

But once a child was deemed a problem, they would be sent to St. Bruce's Church School in southern Scotland. Whenever the old people on the street mentioned it, they always used words like "torture" and "chains," making it hard to think of the place in a favorable light.

Some children chose to go out and earn money early, like Marge, one of the older girls at the poorhouse. She was already sixteen and now worked as a maid for a middle-class family. According to Becky, Marge's greatest dream now was to save up enough money and marry a man with a respectable job.

Rose didn't want to go to the church school. It sounded like the sort of hellhole where disobedient children would be strung up and whipped. But she wanted to be someone's maid even less.

"There's always a way!

She would say it to herself when she first opened her eyes each morning, and again when she sat at the table and saw the blackish boiled beans on her plate, just as people drowning in hardship always talked of hope.

The days passed, one after another, and Rose's eleventh birthday was fast approaching. If she couldn't save enough money and get Mr. Johnson's recommendation before September this year, she would miss her chance to go to school. Then she would either face the whip or become a maid like Marge.

Rose sat on the bench. When Alice got no response from her, she rolled her eyes at her and walked away, muttering.

"You'll find out soon enough," Alice said with a cold snort. "Being a maid is much harder work than this!"

Rose pressed her lips together, her face expressionless, but those words had sent her heart plummeting.

She thought silently to herself, I'll go look for work in town again tomorrow-

But there were always more workers than jobs in town. How could a little thing who wasn't even as tall as a counter get a turn?

Perhaps I could try to get on Mr. Johnson's good side, Rose thought, pressing her lips together.

But the thought of Director Johnson, the man most popular with the children, made Rose uncomfortable all over. Whenever he narrowed his eyes and smiled at her, in particular, she felt as though she were being watched by a venomous snake.

Rose sighed, stood up from the bench, and walked over to Alice. She saw Alice glare at her as she approached, then turn her head away and make room for her.

"Thanks," Rose said softly, touching Alice's little finger with her own.

Alice turned her head sharply away from her.

It was nearly ten at night by the time the open-air concert was completely over. A thin mist shrouded the streetlamps, whose faint light could not illuminate the dark road. Alice led the timid Becky along behind Rose as the children hurried back together.

By the time the girls had hurriedly washed up, blown out the constantly flickering candles, and lain down on their less-than-soft beds, Rose felt as though her back were about to break.

Even though the children had worked late into the night, the person in charge had stingily given them only a few pieces of rock-hard bread as payment—they hadn't gotten a single coin!