17. Alicia

BEFORE

"I think it's my birthday," Norah said.

The three of them were in bed, looking up at the ceiling. Alicia had told all the jokes she knew, including the crappy ones. Norah laughed at them all indiscriminately. They were lying there, waiting for sleep to come, when Norah made the announcement.

Alicia propped herself on an elbow. "You think?"

"It's either the sixteenth or the eighteenth, I can't remember which."

"You don't know when your birthday is?"

Norah wasn't listening. "It's the eighteenth today. So either way, I must be twelve."

Norah seemed happy enough with that, but Alicia was appalled. "Can't you ask Miss Fairchild? Or your social worker?"

"Probably. But it doesn't really matter, does it?"

Alicia was about to say that yes, it did matter, because birthdays were special. Then it dawned on her that birthdays might not have been all that special for Norah.

"Have you ever celebrated your birthday?" she asked gently. "Had a party or anything?"

Norah thought for a minute. "There was a photo of me at Mum's house with balloons in the background. I think that was a party. But I don't know if it was mine or someone else's."

"Do you know when your birthday is?" Alicia asked Jessica.

She nodded. "May twelfth. I had a party the first year I came to Wild Meadows, when I turned five."

Alicia felt a tug of emotion. "That's the only birthday party you've ever had?"

Jessica nodded again, clearly not wanting to expand on this.

Alicia had had a party every year of her life, she was pretty sure. Certainly every year that she remembered. Not big parties. One year, she was allowed to pick a friend and go to the movies and have McDonald's afterward. Another year she had two friends over to Grammy's friend Judy's house to swim in her backyard pool. But there was always cake, a few balloons, and the birthday song.

"What's so good about parties anyway?" Jessica asked.

"Well," Alicia said, "the food, for one thing. Chips and lollies and sausage rolls. Soft drinks. Cake!" Her stomach rumbled at the thought. "And presents. Everyone who comes brings you one."

Norah and rolled over to face her. "What do you do at the party?"

"Sometimes you play games like pass the parcel, or there's an entertainer—a clown, maybe," Alicia said, enjoying their entranced expressions. "But when you're older, like us, you… I don't know—hang out. Talk. Listen to music. Dance."

"That sounds fun," Norah said. "I like to dance."

Jessica snorted. "When have you ever danced?"

"I dance," Norah said defensively. "If I hear music on the radio or in the supermarket or something. I'd dance at a party for sure."

"Fine." Jessica held her hands up in surrender. "You dance."

They were all quiet. The silence felt slightly wistful.

"Why don't we dance now?" Alicia said suddenly. "We can have a dance party for Norah's birthday."

Jessica scoffed. "Yeah right. Like Miss Fairchild wouldn't lose her mind."

"She wouldn't," Alicia said, "if it was a silent dance party."

Jessica and Norah looked unconvinced.

"Come on, spoilsports." Alicia rose, crossed the room and pretended to put a tape into a cassette player, feeling excited and a little foolish. "Norah, what's your favorite song?"

"‘Kung Fu Fighting,'" she replied, without a moment's hesitation.

"Good choice," Alicia said. "I'm putting it on. There you go, it's playing. Now… dance."

Alicia closed her eyes and began shimmying her hips, her shoulders, her hands. Before long she was bopping wildly around the room. There was something about it—the sense of release—after the tension of the past few weeks. It felt fantastic. Alicia got lost in it.

When she opened her eyes a few minutes later to check on the others, Jessica and Norah were also dancing. Norah was standing on her dressing table, playing air guitar and kicking her legs high. Both girls were smiling.

And to her surprise, Alicia realized she was smiling too.

"Alicia? Can you come in here a minute, please?"

The next day, Miss Fairchild called out to her as soon as she walked in the door from school. It was her polite voice, which perhaps should have tipped Alicia off that they had visitors. Usually when they arrived home Miss Fairchild either ignored them or ordered them to do chores.

When Alicia saw the social worker in the living room, she squealed. "Sandi! You're here! Am I going home? I was worried when I didn't hear from you. I thought you would call in a few days. What happened?"

Even as she talked, her delight turned to irritation, and then tears. She hadn't known emotions could transition so fast.

"I'll give you some privacy," Miss Fairchild said, standing. She was dressed particularly nicely today, in a linen dress and pearls, and she'd curled her hair. Obviously she'd known Sandi was coming.

"What's wrong?" Alicia asked when she and Sandi were alone.

Sandi stood. She was wearing the same electric-blue—frosted eyeshadow as last time, with spidery mascara. Her nails were orange and she smelled of sickly floral perfume.

She took Alicia's hand in one of hers. "Your grandmother couldn't call, honey, she was too ill from the pneumonia."

Alicia blinked. "Grammy has pneumonia?"

"She did." Sandi clasped both of Alicia's hands now and looked at her desperately. Tears filled her eyes. "She became ill in the hospital. I'm so sorry, honey. Your grandmother passed away this morning."

Alicia pulled her hand away.

Sandi put her arms around her. "Shh… Oh, it's okay, honey. I know. I know. Shh…"

Sandi didn't need to shush her; Alicia wasn't crying. She stared, unblinking, over the social worker's shoulder. "Grammy's… dead?"

"I'm so sorry, sweetie."

Sandi hugged her tighter. Alicia just stood there. It was as though someone had turned a dimmer switch. Everything became dark. Her limbs became heavy and cold and she buzzed, like static was running through her.

Finally Alicia pushed Sandi's away. "Why didn't someone tell me she had pneumonia?"

"I thought you were told." Sandi glanced at the door Miss Fairchild had exited through.

"I didn't get to say goodbye to her," Alicia said dumbly. And then, almost immediately: "What will happen to me?"

Your grandmother has just died and you're already thinking about yourself!the little voice said. You are a selfish girl. You didn't deserve her.

"I've explained the situation to Miss Fairchild. Obviously, you were only meant to be a respite placement but under the circumstances she's willing to keep you on here indefinitely."

The lights seemed to dim further.

"I know this is distressing. And it's a lot to take in."

Alicia shook her head. "I can't stay here."

Sandi blinked her spidery eyelashes. "Oh. Well, we can look into another placement for you…"

"I don't want another placement. I want Grammy."

Sandi's face crumpled in sympathy. "Oh, I know, baby. Shh. It's all right. I know. Come here."

Sandi opened her arms, and this time Alicia sank into them. Despite what Sandi said, it wasn't all right. With Grammy dead, nothing would ever be right again.

Alicia lay in bed all afternoon, crying so hard her head ached and her throat became sore. Jessica sat on the edge of the bed, her hand resting on Alicia's arm. Norah was at the foot of the bed, her long legs stretched out, almost reaching Alicia's nose. Neither of them seemed to know what to say or do.

"Are you going to stay at Wild Meadows?" Jessica asked.

Alicia hadn't thought she had any tears left, but at this, her vision blurred again. "I told Sandi I didn't want to. She said she'd look into another placement. But I don't want another placement." She let out a sob. "I want Grammy. She was all I had. Now I've got nothing."

They let her weep for a minute or two. Alicia assumed it was because they knew she was right. She had nothing. But when she looked up, Norah was shaking her head.

"You have us," she said. "That's not nothing."

Alicia felt a stab of guilt. Before she could say anything, Norah continued, "You don't have to leave, you know. There are worse places than Wild Meadows."

Alicia nodded, but she didn't believe it.

"It's true," Norah said. "For example, the family that locked us outside from seven in the morning till five in the evening every day—boys in one paddock, girls in another, while the parents sat inside watching daytime television. Or the family that made us pick up dog poop with our bare hands if we forgot to wash up before dinner, to teach us a lesson. The place with the foster brothers who locked me in the cupboard and wouldn't let me out until I touched their ding-dongs…"

Alicia stole a look at Jessica. Her eyes were full of tears.

Norah crossed her legs, resting her ankles on Alicia's side. "And the family who made us watch movies with naked people in them… that was gross."

As the stories went on, each one definitely, unequivocally worse than Wild Meadows, Alicia began to cry too. No child should have to choose between this place and one of those others Norah described, just because their parents had died or were unable to care for them. It wasn't right.

"At least here, we have each other," Norah said at last. "Maybe if we stick together, we can become like… like sisters."

Even through the grief that pierced Alicia, it was hard not to be affected by what Norah was saying. Especially when, after a couple of seconds, she extended her pinkie. Norah wasn't one to be sentimental; it made the gesture all the more moving. "What do you say?"

Jessica offered her own pinkie without hesitation, which Alicia found equally moving.

She could see that, after the stories Norah had just shared, it did make sense to stick together, forge their own family. But that meant staying at Wild Meadows with Miss Fairchild. It felt like an impossibly cruel choice.

And yet, there were Jessica and Norah looking at her, their pinkies extended, their expressions painfully hopeful. Alicia sighed. How could she say no to pinkies?

She closed her eyes, sent up a prayer to Grammy. Extended her pinkie. Within seconds it had been snatched up into a three-way.

"Sisters," she said.