Orphan Train, page 9
“That doesn’t sound so bad at all.”
“But he also sent me a newspaper article of a boy that got adopted with him. Jack. I wouldn’t call him a good friend, but someone I got along with. Jack got adopted by an old man who beat him like a runaway every day. Jack finally ran on his own. Got caught up in a bank robbery in Kansas City. Newspaper said he killed a teller at the bank, and they hanged him.”
Theodore was speechless. Hearing emotion in Ernie – emotion that wasn’t his usual anger or hatred toward the general population of the earth – was startling enough. But to learn he had friends that had actually been adopted, and one that met his demise at such a young age, and in such a horrible way, was eye opening into the life of the boy Theodore had known for three years and hadn’t much cared for at all.
“It’s just the luck of the draw I guess,” Ernie continued as they approached the schoolhouse. “Some boys get out alright I reckon. Some don’t.”
“Think you’ll get adopted this time?”
Ernie shook his head. “I won’t be there to find out.” He smacked Theodore on the shoulder and – for the first time ever – gave him a sincere smile. “Our secret?”
Theodore nodded uncomprehendingly.
17.
Theodore spent the next two days a nervous wreck. He hardly ate. Sleeping was difficult. Every time he looked at his little brother, who was still overjoyed by the idea of the adventure ahead of them, he felt sick to his stomach. If he had eaten anything, he probably would have vomited.
He lay in bed well into the warm nights worrying about being separated from Rollie. He’d promised Mother before she died that he would always look after him; a promise he fully intended to keep. But the more he learned about the orphan train, the more he felt he had no control over whether or not he and Rollie would stay together.
The general mood in the boy’s home didn’t help him either. All of the boys that were his age or older had become solemn. The joking stopped. The wild stories Anselmo would tell were few and far between, and lacked any fun. Ernie didn’t bully anyone at all. Suppers were nearly silent, except for Rollie and Peter. And their conversation seemed to stir up the anger in the older boys.
“Why don’t you two shut your traps?” Anselmo finally had enough.
“But aren’t you excited?” The somber mood of the older boys was missed on those excited by their future. Rollie talked as fast as a horse could run. “Mr. Thomas said we’re going to the Oklahoma Territory. That’s where Indians live! We could be adopted by savages! We’ll have to run away just to save our own hide! It’s so exciting!”
“Rollie,” Theodore interrupted. The boy didn’t hear.
“We could learn to ride a horse too! What if a Vanderbilt wants a new son? We could be rich! Go to the finest schools!”
“Rolllie!” Theodore yelled as Ernie threw a roll across the table at the small boy. Rollie finally caught on and went silent. His feelings had been hurt by the action of both older boys, but more so by his brother, who had never before yelled at him. “Shut your trap for now, alright?”
The rest of the meal was finished in silence.
WHEN MR. THOMAS HOLLERED for lights out that evening, Theodore made his way to the far end of the room where the older boys were gathering for the nightly card game. Theodore had made the walk a few times to play cards and nobody batted an eye when he appeared silently and sat down on a vacant corner of Anselmo’s bed. Ernie was shuffling the cards and not a word was spoken until the cards had been dealt. Anselmo was lying flat on the bed tossing a ball up and down, and Sam mindlessly gnawed on his fingernails. The usual banter and bragging of one’s card skills was noticeably missing.
While each boy looked over the hand they’d been dealt, Sam spoke up in hushed tones. “I talked with Miss Brighton today.”
“And?” Anselmo replied a long moment later, annoyed with the dramatic pause. He was annoyed because he knew what the outcome of Sam’s meeting with Miss Brighton had been.
“She said we all have to go.”
“Did you tell her I’m one month shy of fifteen?” Ernie lay two cards down and picked up new ones.
“I am fifteen,” Anselmo yelled in a whisper. “Why should I have to go? Who’s going to adopt a fifteen-year-old two-time reject?”
“What’s so bad about going?” Theodore asked. The three boys stared at him. At first, he could tell, there was anger in their gaze. Anselmo shook his head and folded his hand with a toss of his cards. He lay back down and continued tossing the ball to himself.
“You wouldn’t understand.” Ernie showed that glimpse of human emotion that Theodore had seen a couple of days earlier.
“It’s just hard,” Sam finally explained. “The train, it’s fun and all. The first time. But when you stop at over sixty small towns and nobody wants to adopt you, it hurts. You know? And then to go through it twice like we all have. Makes you feel like, like – like nobody wants you. Anywhere.”
Theodore finally understood. These three boys, who seemed to fit in among the most mature in the home, actually understood far more than they led on. They weren’t just older and street wise. They had experienced life already defeating them. First by living in a boy’s home, then by the rest of the world not wanting to adopt them. Although he was a year younger than them, he was starting to understand that he would most likely fall into that same group.
“How many older boys get adopted from the train?”
“A couple.” Sam was the only one who wanted to explain it. And he didn’t want to, he just understood more than Ernie and Anselmo that Theodore truly didn’t know any better yet. “The train back from Kansas City is a long ride. Only the oldest boys are in the cars. It’s a good way to make friends like these.” He patted Ernie on the shoulder.
“What will you do? Ride the train like nothing’s wrong? Pretend you have hope?” Theodore was realizing just how cruel the idea of an orphan train could be.
None of the boys responded for a long time. Ernie dealt a second hand. Sam stared blankly at his cards. Theodore felt like he owed them all an apology, but wasn’t sure what he would apologize for. Finally, Ernie whispered almost inaudibly. “I’m not going.”
Sam sat up from his hunched position with surprise. Anselmo propped himself onto his elbow, traded in three cards, and leaned into the circle. Their heads were close enough together that whispering was all that was needed.
“Not at all?” Anselmo asked curiously. “My plan was to go, but run at one of the stops along the way. Somewhere nice to look at. With hills and trees and such.”
“I don’t need trees and hills,” Ernie replied flatly.
Theodore was intrigued. “You can get off anywhere you want?”
“No. But they don’t hold up the train looking for you.” Sam spoke as if it were no big deal, playing his hand as he did. “The workers will look for you until the whistle blows, then they write you off as a runaway.”
“Does it happen a lot?”
Sam nodded. “Mostly older boys.”
“Is that what the three of you will do?”
Anselmo nodded. Sam shrugged. Ernie stared directly into Theodore’s eyes and didn’t say a word.
“You could join us,” Sam offered. He was polite and sincere.
“Yeah,” Anselmo got excited in a way he hadn’t been in a few days. “We could stay together, find work, make a living for ourselves! We’ll all go in together, buy a big piece of land and some horses. Raise livestock. Nobody would know we’re rejects. A whole new start!”
“And if they find out, we’ll make them pay,” Ernie returned to his bullying ways in Anselmo’s fantasy. All four boys were smiling. Nobody knew if Anselmo was serious or not. A venture like that sounded like something he’d get into, to be sure.
“I don’t know,” Theodore finally replied to Sam when the excitement calmed a little. “I couldn’t just leave Rollie like that.”
Ernie and Anselmo looked at each other with concern. Sam saw them and was thinking the same thing they were. Then they both looked back at him, knowing he could deliver the news best. He knew it too, and didn’t look at Theodore while he spoke. “You know, there’s a good chance that you, um, that Rollie will get adopted. He’s young enough and still a polite kid. I’d bet a year of Anselmo’s newsboy money that Rollie isn’t a reject.”
“That’s good, right? I can just be adopted by the same people that adopt him.”
“It doesn’t work like that. Most people don’t want to adopt two kids.”
“I’ve never seen it,” Ernie added quickly.
“And we like you, you know that.” Anselmo added. “But you have a look. Like all of us here. You look older than you are. People don’t want that.”
After a long thought, Theodore realized what they were talking about. “You think I’m going to be a reject?”
Ernie and Anselmo nodded in unison slowly.
“Maybe not,” Sam reassured when he saw the terror overcome Theodore. “You’re at that age where some old farmer may want to use you around the farm.”
“Yeah,” Ernie said with malice. “And he’ll probably beat you like a stubborn mule.”
Sam swatted him quickly. “Don’t tell him that.”
“You’ll be fine,” Anselmo said after hushing the other two. They were getting loud enough that he was afraid Mr. Thomas would hear. “Try not to worry yet Theo. Wait and see. You and Rollie could both turn out alright.”
After the game ended, Theodore went back to his bed. He didn’t sleep a wink that night.
18.
Theodore walked out of the schoolhouse for the last time confused by his own feelings. His teacher had given him a warm embrace. She had known Theodore for more than half of his life and was sad to see him go. The hug made Theodore sad. But as he hopped down the steps of the schoolhouse, he was also excited for what lie ahead the next morning. The adventure of riding the rails, seeing far away cities he’d only read about, the potential to see real life outlaws and Indians – as long as he didn’t think about the idea of losing his brother, he was excited.
There was one final good-bye he wanted to have with his good friend and old stickball foe. Theodore looked for Rollie outside of the schoolhouse, but the younger boy was bouncing with his group of friends already half-a-block down the road toward the boy’s home. Theodore thought of calling him back and making him go to the old neighborhood but decided against it when he heard the loud, joyful laughter from the group already so far away. He didn’t want to spoil Rollie’s fun. He put his cap on his head and walked alone to his former home.
He wasn’t sure if the group of stickball boys would be out playing or not when he turned the corner. He hoped they were. He wanted to join them for one more swing. Unlike Rollie, who had tried to teach stickball to anybody at the boy’s home that would listen, Theodore hadn’t even touched a stick since the day he walked through the doors of the orphanage. He was excited by the thought. Maybe I’ll hit it farther than the bay this time. One last lost ball before I leave.
When he turned the corner, however, he didn’t see the boys playing. He didn’t notice anything at all. He stopped in his tracks when his eyes naturally locked themselves on his old house, and the confusion he was experiencing with his emotions suddenly became crystal clear. He missed his mother. He stood there a moment staring, having instant flashbacks to the many memories of growing up in that house. Mother in her rocking chair. Mother pulling a hot pan out of the oven on a cold winter night. The smile on her face when he tried on a scarf she had knitted just for him two Christmases ago. Her lovely smile, and the feel of her cold hand on his face the day before she died. Theodore felt a lump returning to his throat, and tears welling in his eyes. He shook his head to rid himself of the happy memories – and the tears – and walked on.
While nobody was playing yet, a small group of the boys had gathered and were getting ready. Roy was among them, already tossing a ball back and forth with his younger cousin. When he saw Theodore walking toward them, his smile stretched from ear-to-ear and he threw the ball right over his cousin’s head and toward Theodore. The smile traveled with the ball, and Theodore’s smile matched Roy’s when he caught it.
“I thought you’d forgotten about us,” Roy said when Theodore was closer.
“I tried. But it’s hard to forget just how far I can hit a ball off you.”
“You’re still the only one,” Roy’s cousin ran off to join another group of boys throwing a ball to one another. Roy and Theodore sat down on the steps of a house nearby. “How are things at Washington Square?”
Theodore pulled a bag of candy from his pocket and offered one to Roy. He’d seen both Anselmo and the newsboy do it and wanted to be just like them. He felt like it was a mature, relaxed thing to do. Then Theodore gave him a rundown of his new life – the routine, the food, his new friends. Roy listened intently and asked questions as he talked. “It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be. It’s different though. I miss this, stickball in the neighborhood. Rollie is trying to teach stickball to the boys we live with, but they don’t seem to care as much as he does.”
“He’s a good little player. If anyone can teach them, it’s the two of you.”
“We won’t have time, though. And that worries me.” Theodore then proceeded to tell Roy all about the orphan train. Roy seemed fascinated by the idea of seeing the wild west. When Theodore told him about all the different stops they may go to, he was convinced it would be fun. But when Theodore became somber and explained the likelihood of being separated from Rollie, Roy grew concerned inside.
“They won’t let you stay with him?”
Theodore shrugged. “They say it isn’t up to us.”
“Do you have to go? Can’t you just stay here together in Washington Square?”
“They say all boys have to go this time. It’s tearing me up thinking he’ll get adopted without me.”
“I can imagine.” Roy put a hand on Theodore’s shoulder after a quiet moment. Theodore looked depressed. “You two will be just fine. I can feel it.”
Theodore nodded and spoke quietly. “Thanks.”
“How about a swing?” Roy held the ball up and tried to change the subject. “Me and you, one last time?”
Theodore’s smile returned and he grabbed a stick leaning against the house next to him. The boys walked to their respective places and Theodore took a couple of practice swings. The natural feeling returned. The stick in his hands. The rotation of his hips. He was ready. And smiling.
Roy lobbed a pitch gently toward Theodore. He could have sent the ball sailing into the bay easily, but Theodore knew Roy did it on purpose. He caught the ball before it got to him and threw it back.
“Don’t go easy on me. I’m not a six-year-old.”
“Just warming you up,” Roy knew now that Theodore meant business, and he prepared for a full speed wind up and throw. The first one was too low to swing at, so Theodore stopped it with his foot. He didn’t think about the speed behind the pitch; it stung to get hit with. The group of boys all gathered around to watch. A few of them ran to the deep field, and Roy’s cousin ran behind Theodore to gather any balls that passed the batter. The second pitch came fast and Theodore swung too late to connect with it. Roy smiled.
“Do that again,” Theodore taunted his friendly nemesis. “I dare you.”
“You asked for it.”
Roy threw the same pitch again, faster than Theodore had ever seen before. He swung fast and hard, and sent the ball to the right side of the neighborhood. It careened off a building just under the second-floor window and bounced all the way to the other side of the street. It wasn’t in the bay, but if they’d been playing in a game Theodore would easily be at second- or maybe even third base. With a smile in his heart, he declined Roy’s offer for another hit and set the stick down.
“Your buddy the newsboy,” Roy joined him on the steps again. “He came out a few days ago and took a couple of swings. I tossed a gentle one and he swung with his might. The ball flew in a straight line and hit Mr. Hatchell’s cat that was sitting on his front porch. Knocked the cat right off. I’ve never seen Mr. Hatchell laugh so hard. Poor cat walked with a limp for two days.”
The boys shared a laugh and a few more stories. More of the stickball boys had arrived and a game was starting to form. Theodore stood up and brushed off the seat of his trousers.
“Thanks for the last hit.” He stuck out his hand maturely. Roy returned the handshake, and without a word the boys embraced in a hug.
“You two take care of yourselves,” Roy wouldn’t shed a tear, but his chest felt empty while he said goodbye to his friend. “If you don’t get adopted and make it all the way back here, there will always be a stick waiting for you.”
Theodore finally relaxed the embrace and walked off, waving to a few of the other boys as he did so. His new friends were great, but he knew he’d never have another friend like Roy.
THEODORE HAD SAID MORE goodbyes in the last few weeks than he’d ever wanted to in his life. Losing his parents was difficult in a way he would never be able to fully describe with words. Hugging his best friend for the last time hurt nearly as much, although in a less permanent way. He thought about what Roy said, about there being a stick waiting for him if he made it back to New York. Knowing the chances were good that he would be an orphan train reject, maybe this wasn’t the final goodbye with Roy.
As he walked toward the boy’s home lost in his thoughts, he passed by the alleyway that Anselmo and the other older boys disappeared into everyday on their way to hock papers. He was surprised to see that group of boys standing in a group in the alley. And Ernie was with them. Theodore turned into the alley and joined them.
“Look at this guy,” Anselmo put an arm around the mopey boy. “So sad. Like he’s nervous about the train or something. You know what you need?” Theodore expected Anselmo to pull one of Theodore’s own books or bags of candy from a pocket and give it to him. He was surprised by what came next. “You need a hug. Ernie, give the kid a hug.”
