announcement any longer. Every day for the past week she’d tried to speak but had failed.
She brought the eggs out to the dining room and took her seat between Darlene and Thelma, across from Adelle, Faye, and Verena, all of whom worked at Camp Forrest—from the laundry to the bakery to the mess.
Leah scooped a portion of pancakes and eggs and courage. “I have an announcement.”
When everyone looked her way, she forced a smile. “I’m expecting a baby.”
Darlene gasped and grabbed Leah’s arm. “You are? My heavens! I’m so happy for you.”
Leah’s smile relaxed. Darlene had been distant lately, and Leah didn’t know why.
“I thought so,” Mrs. Perry said. “Skinny thing like you mushrooming like that.”
“When are you due?” Thelma’s sweet smile more than made up for the homely face the other girls mocked.
“The first of May.”
Mrs. Perry spread oleo on her pancakes. “Give me two weeks’ notice before you move out.”
Leah’s fingers tightened around her fork. “Is it possible to have a room—”
“No children. That’s my rule. I don’t want no squalling babies in here.”
A long sigh, but Leah concealed it. “Yes, ma’am.” She’d look for a new place around the first of the year.
Darlene tossed her napkin onto the table. “Any of y’all have fifty cents I can borrow? I can’t find my pay from last week, and I want to see if the beauty shop can squeeze me in this morning.”
“I do.” Leah pushed back her chair. It felt so good to give rather than receive.
“Stay put, Mama. I saw your purse on your bureau.” Darlene trotted upstairs.
As she ate, Leah fielded questions. If only Miss Mayhew would receive Leah’s news as enthusiastically this afternoon.
Footsteps thumped downstairs. “Why, you little thief.”
Leah whipped around in her chair, and her blood ran cold.
Darlene marched to the dining room, brandishing dollar bills. “My pay! You stole it.”
“What? No. I didn’t steal—”
“Four five-dollar bills—exactly what I was paid on Friday.” Red-hot anger warped Darlene’s features, and she waved the bills in Leah’s face.
Leah’s breath raced. Just like in the orphanage. Stealing. Accusations. Falsehoods. “I was paid on Friday too. I promise, it’s mine. I would never steal from you—from anyone.”
“Liar!” Darlene kicked Leah’s chair. “You told me yourself—you used to steal from your friends.”
Leah ducked her head, her face tingling with coldness. It was all over. “Just little things—things they’d lost. I stopped years ago.”
“My mama said never to trust an orphan. I should have listened to her.” Darlene stomped her foot. “Mrs. Perry, I will not put up with this.”
Mrs. Perry stood, crossed her arms over her ample chest, and glared at Leah. “Two things I don’t abide—girls entertaining menfolk upstairs and thieving. Get out.”
Leah’s chest collapsed. “But I didn’t take her money. We all know she always loses things.”
“Convenient for you, eh?” Mrs. Perry barked out a laugh. “Should never have rented to a raggedy little good-for-nothing. Get out of my house.”
Leah stared. But only Thelma looked sympathetic. The hard expression on her landlady’s face and the appalled looks of the other girls said the sentence would never be revoked. “When do you want me to leave?”
“Right this minute. We’ll watch you pack, make sure you don’t snitch anything else.”
Nothing to do but obey. Leah trudged upstairs and pulled the dress shop box from under her bed.
“I’ll help.” Darlene flung open bureau drawers and dumped the contents on the floor.
Leah winced but kept packing. When girls ganged up in the orphanage, she’d learned to keep her head down, her mouth shut, and to escape quickly. And to never, ever cry.
Thelma knelt in front of her, holding her compact. “Where do you want this?”
The unexpected kindness made Leah’s eyes water more than the familiar cruelty. She grabbed her old canvas schoolbag. “In here. Thank you.”
Thelma gathered Leah’s toiletries into the schoolbag while Leah filled the box with clothes.
Then Leah pinned on her hat, slipped on her raincoat, slung her purse and schoolbag over her shoulder, and picked up her box.
Mrs. Perry stood back from the doorway. “I’ll follow you out to watch those sticky fingers of yours.”
Somehow Leah’s feet made their way downstairs and out onto the porch.
The door slammed behind her.
Rain pelted the sidewalk and made the leaves shiver.
Leah pulled her hood over her hat and arranged her coat around the cardboard box the best she could. With her hands full, she couldn’t raise her umbrella.
At the end of the block, she stopped. Where to? She didn’t belong anywhere.
Tiny puffs of her breath turned white and floated away. She