Three Little Words by Ashley Rhodes-Courter Read Free Book Online Page B

friends.
    “You’ll be happier living with other girls,” Mrs. Potts insisted.
    “Can’t I go to Luke’s house?”
    “They don’t have enough beds for the ones they have.”
    I knew it was hopeless to ask about my mother or Adele. I flung my arms around Mrs. Potts’s waist and looked up pleadingly. “Please, can’t I just stay?”
    “They won’t let you,” she sputtered angrily. Something had happened, but I would not find out until much later why they took me away.
     

     
    According to my tally, Mrs. Hagen was my eighth so-called mother in three and a half years. To cope, I pretended I was destined for a different life, just like Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, the Little Princess and, of course, Alice. I had only to fit in the shoe, be kissed by the prince, come into my rightful inheritance, or find some other through-the-looking-glass way out of foster care, and I’d enter the life I was meant to live. Each time I moved, I cheered myself with a little rhyme: Heigh-ho! Heigh-ho! Down the rabbit hole to another place I go! I always believed that my happily ever after with my real mother was just over the next horizon.
    To my annoyance, the Hagens asked me to call them “Mom” and “Dad” right away, but I resisted. Adele had drilled into me the correctness of addressing my elders as “sir” and “ma’am,” so I could pretty easily say “ma’am,” which sounded close enough to “Mom” and sounded respectful enough to satisfy Mrs. Hagen. Plus, the Hagens were suckers for my stare into space. As long as I pretended to listen and said I was sorry for any infractions, I got off without much punishment. The important thing, I had learned by now, was not to get on a foster parent’s bad side, because certain incidents trailed you like dog poop on your shoes.
    The Hagens lived in the nicest home I had been in so far. There were four bedrooms, two baths, and a breezy family room. In the back there was an inground pool and a combination basketball and tennis court. Even though there were nine people in the house, it did not seem crowded. The Hagens’ daughter, who was around seventeen, had her own bedroom, while the six foster girls (the five others ranged in age from ten to fourteen), shared two bedrooms. I unfolded my Precious Moments sleeping bag, arranged Katie and Lilly on the shelf, put my jelly sandals in the closet, and tested my new bed, which smelled mustier than the sunshine-dried sheets that had flapped on Mrs. Potts’s line.
    I did like having others to play with and enjoyed girly activities, like having my nails polished or my hair done and dressing up like a princess. My imaginary prince’s name was Jonathan Rodriquez. He looked like a grown Fernando and he wore a blue uniform trimmed with gold braid. Someday he would whisk me to his kingdom, where I would be safe forever.
    My new school, Seffner Elementary, was overcrowded. My teacher’s name was Ms. Port, which I thought was a funny coincidence since her classroom was in a portable trailer.
    The day I started there, Mrs. Hagen dropped me off and said, “You’ll have to find your own way from now on, so remember where your classroom is.”
    “I will!” I said in my most chipper voice. When I looked back, she had disappeared. Other children were hugging their parents good-bye, but I was alone. My fingers flew to my mouth, and I bit off my thumbnail as I forced myself up the first metal step, then the next.
    “You must be Ashley Rhodes.” Ms. Port greeted me with a wide smile. As a way to welcome me to the classroom, she asked the students to make new name tags for our desks. “You can write your name any way you want,” she told me. I drew my name in bubble letters. When we finished, we each stood to show off our artwork and say our names. When the other students saw my creation, they clapped.
    I loved school, but I was envious of the children whose parents walked them to the classroom door in the morning and were waiting outside