SOME CHILDREN ARE awakened by the sound of birds singing outside their windows. Lorraine dreamed of birds, strange birds with multicolored feathers, but it was the squeal of a garbage truck’s brakes that awakened her. Her first sight was a dingy beige wall. The bed she had slept on felt lumpy. For a few minutes the little girl didn’t move; she was bewildered by her surroundings. Then slowly she began to recall the previous night. She remembered the gang, the deserted streets, and Bettina.
Lorraine had spent the night in an old appliance box. Her “bed” was a pile of old clothes.
Rubbing her eyes with chubby fists, Lorraine sat up. She pushed a ragged coat off herself and crawled out of the box. Rising to her feet, she gazed out the litter-strewn alley at the people who were walking by.
There was no sign of the old woman. Her two suitcases were propped against the inside back of the box. She found herself too hungry to think about checking to be certain the money was still there. Instead, she plunked herself down on an upturned box and buried her face in her hands. She was a pathetic little sight, a small child in the midst of all that filth, but no one turned to look at her.
Presently she felt a hand on top of her head.
“Here, now, child,” a voice said, “did you think old Bettina had deserted you?”
Lorraine looked up to see the woman standing before her, a white paper bag held tightly in one fist. She opened it and pulled out a buttered bagel and a pint of milk. Lorraine accepted them and ate as if she were starved.
“I talked to Jesus last night,” Bettina said, pulling another crate to sit beside her, “and he told me it’d be all right just to borrow some money from your suitcase. I went to the Y and had a shower. This morning, while you slept, I got rid of my old rags and bought this dress from a street vendor.”
Lorraine sucked hard at the straw, making gurgling noises as the milk disappeared.
“That’s a nice dress,” she said. “And I don’t mind at all that you borrowed some money.”
Bettina smiled.
“You’re sweet,” she said. “It isn’t that I don’t have good intentions. We’re going to have to find a better place to live, and there’s no hotel that’s gonna rent to a ragged old bag lady.”
She paused for a moment, her vision seeming to focus on a delivery truck that had parked at the curb. Finally she spoke again.
“Well, you work on your breakfast,” she said. “Then we’ll dress you up and look for a room.”
“Are you going to help me find my family?”
“Of course,” Bettina said. “But we have to have a place to stay in the meantime, don’t we? It isn’t proper for a little girl to live on the streets.”
Lorraine nodded and finished her breakfast. Bettina opened the suitcase with clothes in it and found a yellow T-shirt dress for the child to wear. There was a pair of yellow barrettes to match, and a hairbrush. The child stood quietly as Bettina fixed her hair.
Lorraine, Bettina noted, wasn’t exactly a pretty child. But there was something about her. Her almond eyes were a queer gray-green color, and seemed to be watching everything very carefully. Her hair was the blackest Bettina had ever seen on a white child. There was still baby fat clinging to her, and her small teeth were smooth along the edges—an indication they were still baby teeth. For this reason, Bettina guessed that she wasn’t quite six years old.
They spent the morning looking for a place to stay. The desk clerk stared at Lorraine in such a way that the child instinctively felt he was not to be trusted. She took Bettina’s hand.
“Don’t pay attention to him,” Bettina said as they climbed the stairs. “You ignore him, and don’t talk to anyone else either.”
“Why?” Lorraine asked. “What if someone knows me and can help me find my family?”
Bettina gave her head a rough shake.
“No one in this neighborhood would know a nice little girl like you,” she said. “You leave finding your family up to me. I’ll call the police as soon as we’re settled.”
Bettina pushed into the apartment. It was a studio, with a minimal amount of furniture. There was a small kitchen at the back. Bettina found that the refrigerator had been unplugged and opened it to air it out. As Lorraine stood near the door, she checked the sofa.
“Sleeper,” Bettina said. “Big enough for two. You’ve probably slept in better, but at least you won’t be on the street tonight.”
She bent closer to it, wondering if there were bugs hidden inside the foam cushions. She didn’t mention this out loud; no point scaring the child.
“Well, we’ll need a few things to make this place livable,” she said.
“Are we going to stay very long?”
There was such worry in the child’s voice that Bettina knew at once what her thoughts were. She probably wondered why the old woman wasn’t calling the police right now. The truth was that only Bettina knew about the child. She hadn’t told anyone, not her friends in the streets or at the homeless shelter. And as far as finding Lorraine’s parents, well, what kind of monsters left a baby to wander the dangerous streets of the city? With a suitcase full of money, no less! Let them stew about her for a week. Maybe then, when Bettina brought her back, they’d appreciate the child.
“Of course not,” she said at last. “Just until we find your folks. Now, let’s check out that bathroom. I hope it’s clean. . . .”
When she came out, she was surprised to see Lorraine on the sofa. The money suitcase was open next to her.
“We have one thousand, two hundred, and twenty dollars,” Lorraine announced.
Bettina laughed. “How do you know?”
“I counted it,” Lorraine said matter-of-factly.
“But, child!” Bettina cried. “You didn’t have enough time. And you don’t seem old enough to count that high.”
“But I did,” Lorraine answered.
“You just let Bettina have a look.”
Sometime later, Bettina turned to the little girl with fascination in her expression.
“That’s amazing.”
“I guess I’m good with numbers,” Lorraine said with a shrug.
“I guess you are,” Bettina agreed in awe.
Lorraine began to fidget. “I’m hungry.”
Bettina opened the other suitcase, found a sweater, and turned to put it on the child.
“We’ve had a long morning,” she said. “And heaven knows when you last had a decent meal. But we can’t spend a lot, you know. I know how fast money goes. I’ve been without a home for almost a year now.”
“Really?” Lorraine asked in disbelief. “Did you lose your family too?”
Bettina laughed bitterly. “Yes, and good riddance to all of them. When my husband’s business failed, no one came forward to help. It killed him. So they can all rot in . . .”
She saw the worried look on Lorraine’s face and stopped herself.
“Don’t fret about that,” she said. “Come on. I know a nice Chinese restaurant with a special luncheon menu.”
A short subway ride later, they walked through the red door of a restaurant called Jade Garden. Bettina had not been there since her husband’s death. But today, wearing a clean new dress, she walked in with her head held high. Yes, there was a reason the Lord had sent Lorraine to her.
The maître d’, a handsome middle-aged Chinese man in a black suit, smiled broadly as he greeted them.
“Mrs. Norwich,” he said. “It’s been a long time.”
Bettina’s grey eyebrows went up.
“You remember me?”
“Of course,” said the Chinese. “I never forget anyone.”
He looked down at the child with questioning eyes.
“Oh, this is my grandniece,” Bettina lied. “Lorraine. She’s visiting me.”
“Welcome, little girl,” the man said. “I’ll show you to a table.”
He handed them menus and walked away.
“Do you want me to read it to you?” Bettina asked.
“I can read,” Lorraine said. “I’ll have this.”
She turned her menu around and pointed to an item. Bettina laughed.
“Lorraine, that’s written in Chinese!”
Lorraine read the words out loud.
“It means ‘chicken with peanuts’, “ she said.
Quickly Bettina thumbed through the extensive menu until she found the number that matched the Chinese translation. Sure enough, it described a dish with chicken and peanuts. She shook her head.
“I’m amazed,” she said. “You count faster than anyone I’ve ever met, and you read Chinese. I wonder what else you can do.”
“I don’t know,” Lorraine said. “But my family will tell me.
“When we find them,” Bettina said noncommittally.
Their meal came and they enjoyed it immensely. When they were finished and had paid the bill, they said goodbye to the kind maître d’ and left. With the lunch-hour rush behind them, the platform down in the subway was all but deserted. Bettina dropped two tokens in the turnstile and helped Lorraine push through. It was dark down here, all the lights dimmed by a coating of greasy dust. Bettina saw that the change booth was empty.
“When will the train come?” Lorraine asked, looking down the tracks into the dark tunnel.
“Any minute now,” Bettina said. “Let’s sit on that bench.”
As they approached the seat, they suddenly heard a whooping holler. With amazing speed, like rats scurrying out of water pipes, nearly a dozen tough-looking hoods raced down the stairs and jumped over the turnstiles. Lorraine moved closer to Bettina, fear making her tremble.
“I saw them the other night!” she whispered. “They were in the street when I woke up!”
Bettina moved quickly.
“Hide under here,” she said, pushing Lorraine off the seat.
Lorraine obeyed instantly. Bettina felt deep in her pocket for the tape-wrapped knife blade she kept as a weapon.
“Yo! Bitch!” one boy yelled.
From her hiding place Lorraine heard the sound of running feet, yelling . . . and what seemed to be Bettina’s screams. She curled herself up and wished it all to be a nightmare. It had to be, because she was certain she’d never been so scared.
They’re gonna kill us!
Her young mind screamed in terror.
And suddenly a voice cut into her silent cries.
No! You’re stronger! You can control them!
Lorraine opened her eyes. Where had the voice come from? There was no one looking under the bench. She could see only scuffling feet—most in sneakers, Bettina’s pumps among them.
Close your eyes.
Bewildered, but too frightened to protest, the little girl did as the voice commanded. She realized now that it wasn’t from outside, but from within her own mind.
Who . . . who’re you?
My name is Marty. I’m here to help you, Lorraine.
You know my name!
I have heard you thinking it.
Bettina’s screams brought the child back to reality. She didn’t know how this strange voice came to be in her head, but she was too young to separate it as fantasy. To her the voice was very, very real.
Help me, Marty! I’m scared!
Crawl out from under the bench.
No!
You have to! It’s the only way. Crawl out and look one of them straight in the eyes. You can control them!
Shaking all over, but almost powerless to resist the voice in her head, Lorraine crawled out from under the bench. She glanced quickly at Bettina, who lay unconscious on the platform.
Look at the biggest one!
Lorraine’s head snapped up, her gray-green eyes as round as if she were in a trance. She found the biggest, most evil-looking member of the gang and fixed her gaze on him. He said something to her she didn’t really hear or understand. With Marty’s words encouraging her, she continued to stare at him. Another hood pulled out a knife and moved toward the child, but the big one snapped a commanding hand to keep him away.
“That’s the little bitch we saw the other night,” he said. “She’s mine.”
Just keep looking at him. Don’t move. I’ll help you.
Lorraine tried to draw strength from Marty’s words.
Menacingly the big boy moved toward the little girl. Lorraine, though her knees were wobbling, held her ground.
Tell him he’s a coward!
“You’re a coward,” Lorraine said in a grim little voice.
Some of the other boys laughed. But without warning or explanation, the big thug stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened and he screamed.
“No! No! Oh, shit, man! N-n-n-n-o-o-o-o!”
“Whazzamatter?” someone yelled.
None of the other kids could see anything.
The gang leader backed away in horror, his whole body going into convulsions of fear. It was as if he were seeing something that no one else could. He tripped over his untied shoelaces and landed hard on the platform, screaming and crawling away from Lorraine crab-style.
“What the hell’s wrong with him?” someone shouted.
The boy rolled over on his stomach and began to retch. Humiliated, he dragged himself to his feet and wiped blood from his nose with the back of his hand.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he commanded.
“What’re you so afraid of, Royce?”
“Shut up!” Royce screamed, pushing through the revolving gate and running upstairs.
The other gang members followed, and the subway platform was silent once more.
Lorraine fell to her knees and began to cry.
It’s over. You stopped them.
I don’t understand what I did.
You brought out his worst, deepest emotion—fear. He’s been humiliated. He’ll never bother you again.
Who are you, Marty? Where do you come from?
I can only tell you the name they gave me. Marty. The less you know, the safer you’ll be. When the time is right, when everything is ready, I’ll contact you. I have to go now. You stay with the old woman. She won’t harm you.
Don’t go away! Please, I’m so scared!
But her mind was a blank. As clearly as she had heard the boy speak, she now heard only silence. After a moment, though, she opened her eyes to the sound of moaning. Bettina was pulling herself to her feet, holding her head. Lorraine ran to help her.
“Are . . . are you okay, child?”
“Uh-huh,” Lorraine confirmed with a nod. “But you’re hurt!”
Bettina fished through the pockets of her coat until she found a handkerchief. She pressed it to her head.
“Bettina . . .”
Bettina turned to the child.
“Just a little blood,” she said. “I wasn’t really passed out, you know. It was a trick to make ‘em stop. I didn’t dare open my eyes. But what was that kid screaming about?”
Lorraine didn’t really know the answer to that, so she simply shook her head.
“I want to go home,” she said.
Bettina took her hand. At that moment a train rumbled into the station. Together they got on board.
Bettina did not even look at the transit cop who was riding in the car.