Awake and Dreaming - Kit Pearson [6]
“Theodora,” mumbled Theo.
“That’s a beautiful name. What have you found today? Oh, you’ll love this. I read it when I was your age! What a lot of books you’ve taken out in only a week! You’re an exceptional reader for your age. Why don’t you pick some more? You can take as many as you like.”
“No, thank you,” said Theo. Ever since she’d lost a library book and Rae had had to pay for it, she wouldn’t let Theo take home more than one book at a time.
“Well, enjoy it. It’s a treat to see these wonderful old stories being borrowed.” The librarian checked out the book, handed it back, and gazed at Theo thirstily. “I just wish some of the others read as many good books as you do.”
Theo flushed and put the book into her bag. Librarians always went into ecstasy over her. Soon she’d be called in to the counsellor to find out why she did so poorly in school, in spite of the fact that she read so much.
BEHIND THE SCHOOL was a grassy playground. Even though it was raining, Theo sat down on a swing, watching the water dribble down the shiny wood of the teeter-totters. She swayed gently, pretending she was a princess.
This is the royal park, she thought. Over there are peacocks and fountains. In a few minutes I will be called in to dinner by my nanny and eat roast chicken and mashed potatoes off golden plates …
“Hi, Theo!” Theo looked up and tried to focus. It was Angela, holding hands with a tired-looking woman in a shapeless black coat. “Mum, this is Theo, a new girl in our class.”
Angela’s mother smiled, but she didn’t seem to speak English.
“I really liked your poem,” said Angela shyly. “I thought it was the best in the class! It sounded so—so real.”
“Mmm,” said Princess Theo haughtily. She willed Angela to go away so she could continue her game.
Angela’s eager smile turned to disappointment. “Well, goodbye. See you tomorrow.” She led her mother away and Theo immediately forgot about them.
She tried to carry on being a princess but her pants were soaked and it was getting late.
She began to walk home. Her wet hair dripped into her eyes and water seeped through the cracked soles of her runners. Her toes bumped painfully against the fronts.
Theo always lingered on the first part of the walk, where renovated old houses were crowded together pleasantly. She stopped in front of her favourite house. Its blue window boxes were planted with tiny fir trees that were still decorated with red bows for Christmas. The front door was sunny yellow. It looked like a house in a little child’s drawing—bright and friendly and neat. On the top floor was a small round window like a peep-hole. That would be my room, thought Theo.
After she passed the hospital, the houses became shabbier; then they were replaced by low apartment buildings. The closer Theo came to her own block, the louder the traffic noise from the busy street behind it.
Theo stopped at the corner store beside her apartment. She stooped to pick up two cigarette butts for Rae. Then she slinked into the store, hoping the owner had a customer. But he was alone and kept his eyes on her as she examined the candy display.
The longer she looked, the more moist her mouth became. Two days ago she’d managed to sneak a chocolate bar into her pocket when the store owner was helping someone.
The week before Rae was paid was always a lean one. All Theo had had to eat today were two jam sandwiches—one for breakfast and one for lunch.
“Are you going to buy anything or not?” the man growled.
Theo shook her head and scuttered out of the store. She couldn’t put off going home any longer.
2
The lobby of the small grey building smelled like cabbage. Theo trudged down the dingy stairwell and along the hall of the basement, pushing past someone’s laundry hung to dry. A TV game show blared from behind Mrs. Mitic’s door.
Opening her own door, Theo took out the cigarette butts, then dropped her sodden jacket. She pried off her wet shoes and socks and rubbed her sore toes. The same show droned from the small TV in the living-room.
“Where have you been?” scolded Rae. She stood up. “It