Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Whether I liked it or not, I was trapped here and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
“I know how to run the washing machine and the dryer,” I said at last. Auntie Amelia had taught me how to take care of my own clothes—it was one of my chores at her house.
Nancy Spaulding’s lip curled.
“Well, that’s a start, I suppose. I just lost my last laundry girl a week ago and the clothes are really piling up—you’ll have to take her place. Come on, let’s go.”
She led me to the other side of the house where there was a small, dark laundry room. Though I didn’t know it yet, this was going to be where I spent the majority of my time when I was allowed in the main house. There was a washer, a dryer, and an ironing board all set up with an iron at the ready.
Nancy lectured me about always sorting darks and colors and only using bleach on the whites and making certain there was water in the iron so I would steam the clothes as I pressed them—not burn them.
This was much more complicated than the laundry routine at Auntie Amelia’s house had been. I tried to take it all in but inside I was still burning with anger and resentment—thinking of my precious music box in Alexis Spaulding’s careless hands and my books and mementos all thrown in the trash. So I probably missed a lot of it.
“And that’s it,” Nancy Spaulding finished at last. “Now get to it! Take that empty basket and go collect the dirty clothes from the family bedrooms and wash them just like I showed you.”
I picked up the empty basket obediently but then hesitated.
“I don’t know where the family bedrooms are,” I pointed out.
Nancy threw up her hands as though I was an endless trial to her.
“I can’t believe they sent me such a stupid girl!” she exclaimed like I was an employee from a temp agency instead of a foster child. “Very well. Minnie? Minnie!”
The thin girl with the long black hair came running from the direction of the kitchen.
“Yes, Ms. Nancy?” she panted, looking up at Nancy.
“There you are.” Nancy gave her a sour look. “I want you to take the new girl all around the house and show her where to get the family’s dirty laundry. Only the family’s laundry, mind,” she added, giving me a hard stare. “You’ll be doing your own laundry and the laundry of the other fosters on Saturday night and that is the only night non-family clothing is to be put into the washer and dryer. Afterwards, you’ll give each of them a thorough cleaning. Do you understand?”
I understood all right—I was to be nothing but an unpaid domestic servant here in her big, grand house. I also understood that she considered us “fosters” beneath her and her family.
“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth.
Nancy Spaulding slapped me again with no warning. As I clutched the side of my face, the tears stinging in my eyes, she pointed a long skinny finger at me.
“You watch your tone when you speak to me, girl!” she snapped. “When you address me or my husband, you call us ‘Ms. Nancy’ and ‘Mr. Gary.’ And my daughter is to be called ‘Miss Alexis.’ Anything else is disrespectful and you will be punished for it—do you understand?”
Again I wanted to shout and cry and scream at her. But then I saw the little girl called Minnie. She was standing right behind Nancy Spaulding and shaking her head, a look of warning in her almond-shaped eyes. She seemed to be trying to tell me to keep my mouth shut.
And so, though it was the hardest thing I’d ever done, I simply nodded and said,
“Yes, Ms. Nancy,” in a choked voice.
“That’s better.” Nancy Spaulding nodded approvingly. “Now take that empty basket and gather the clothes.”
“Excuse me, Ms. Nancy,” I said, swallowing my rage as I tried to speak in a way that wouldn’t get me slapped. “But what about my clothes. The ones Miss Alexis didn’t want?”
“I suppose you can gather them up and bring them out to the barn when you’ve put the first load in the washer,” she said impatiently. “But mind you just put them in your trunk and come right back. If you try to wander off in a direction you’re not supposed to, you’ll be sorry.”
I didn’t know what she meant by that, but I was soon to find out.
“C’mon.” Minnie was tugging on my sleeve. “I’ll show you the family rooms,” she said in her high, thin, birdlike voice. “So you can get started on your chores and you don’t miss supper.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I followed her anyway with the empty basket clutched in my hands.