by Sharon McKay
“But you said that we are not going to—”
“GO!” Bell, as tall as a ten-year-old, hustled around her desk and slammed the only door in the house shut.
Pax took five long steps, stood in the middle of the great room, and called each child’s name. “Bhima, Santoso, Guntur, Bambang, get up. Visitors are coming. Put on your school clothes.” He tried to sound like Bell. “Spit spot,” he added.
All four gave him sleepy, curious looks. It was a school day. What else would they wear?
“Where is Mega?” Pax asked but did not wait for an answer. He charged out to the porch.
“Kai, come here,” Pax called out. Where was he? He called again, and again.
“Here I am! Catch me.” Kai raced around from the back of the house, ran up the steps and, with a mighty leap, flung himself at Pax.
“Whoa!” Pax’s arms circled the child as he stumbled backwards. Kai giggled.
“That wasn’t funny. Where did you go?” Pax set him down and put his hands on his hips, which is exactly what Bell did when she was annoyed.
“The outhouse,” said Kai. “Am I in trouble?”
Pax reached down and gave Kai’s yellow T-shirt a tug. “Not yet. Just don’t run off. You are a good boy.” And Kai was a good boy. Pax saw to it.
“I have something to tell you.” Kai stood on his tiptoes and cupped his hand around Pax’s ear. “Mega lost her penis,” he whispered.
“Her what?” Pax stepped back, amazed.
“I saw . . . in the outhouse.”
Just then, Bell emerged from her office like a tiny bull released from a stockade. “Pax, I told you to take Kai to Ol’ May’s. Hurry. They may be here any minute.” She was wearing her least dirty dress. A dark stain, in the shape of a muddy flower, bloomed below her shoulder. The stem of the muddy flower trickled down to the hem. The washer-woman did not come very often, and like Cook, she had not been paid in months.
“Where is everyone?” Bell muttered something that sounded like fuddy-well and then went back in the house, presumably to make a search of her own.
“Guntur, Mega, Bhima, Santoso, Bambang,” Pax yelled. Only Bambang made an immediate appearance. He tossed his head back and neighed like a horse.
Kai pulled Pax’s shirt. “Pax, what about Mega’s penis?”
“We’ll talk about it later,” whispered Pax.
“No, now! We have to look for it.” Tears bubbled up, turning Kai’s big eyes into puddles.
“Kai, go to Ol’ May’s house and wait.” Pax gave him a nudge.
“No! Ol’ May is mean and her head is big.” He crossed his arms over his chest. Despite being only three, Kai spoke in complete sentences.
Pax nodded. Ol’ May was scary looking. Only Bambang went near her, and that was because she paid him to do chores.
“I’ll come and get you when the visitors leave. Be a good boy.” Pax shooed him away. “Bambang, where is Cook?” he asked.
Bambang shrugged. “She did not come today.”
“But I want to see the visitors too,” Kai whined.
“What visitors?” asked Bambang.
“An American is coming to give us money,” said Pax.
Bambang slapped his arms to his sides like a little soldier, then lifted one in a silly salute. “Tally-ho!” he hollered.
Pax rolled his eyes. Bambang was reading Black Beauty again. All week long he had insisted that he be called Merrylegs.
The others came after, each one seeming to emerge out of the woodwork. Mega, Bhima, Bambang, Santoso, and Guntur were all dressed for school, Mega in a blue skirt and white blouse, the boys in blue shorts and white shirts.
Santoso and Guntur, the twins, gave each other two swift punches.
“Stop that!” Pax got hold of Santoso’s ear and gave it a twist. Santoso howled. Guntur gave his twin brother a smack for making a fuss. “Line up,” Pax commanded. Five children were accounted for; he was the sixth. Pax did not count Kai.
“It’s time to go to school,” Bhima piped up. He was the smallest boy and normally as shy as Mega.
“We are not going to school,” said Pax.
“But . . .” Guntur stopped punching Santoso.
“An American is coming. Neigh, neigh!” Bambang galloped up and down.
“There you all are.” Bell pushed back the plastic door and walked in front of the line, inspecting each child. “Bambang, pull in your stomach. You look too well fed. Mega, run and get that hair ribbon I bought for you. It is on my desk. Hurry. The rest of you, hold out your hands.” Bell peered down at their nails.
Within minutes they were the best they could possibly be, under the circumstances. Mega returned with the ribbon laced through her fingers.
“Bell, Cook is not here,” said Pax.
“Never mind, we can cook for ourselves,” said Bell.
Pax lowered his head. Bell did not cook. What she was really saying was that he and Mega could cook for them all.
“Give me that.” Bell tied the ribbon into a hank of Mega’s hair. That’s when Bell noticed Kai standing behind Pax. “Why is he still here?” She was fuming like a little smokestack.
“Kai, come. I will take you to Ol’ May’s hut.” Pax reached out his hand.
“No.” Kai jutted out his lower lip and crossed his arms over his chest.
It was too late anyway. The foreigners were coming up the path.
Chapter 4
A man and a woman jumped the ditch that ran beside the orphanage and stood on the porch. The woman wore jungle clothes: pants and a vest with many pockets, a hat with a wide brim (netting tucked around the crown), and a great big black purse-thing tied around her middle.
“Hello. Welcome to the Pink House,” said Bell in the fake, cheery voice that she used for guests.
Introductions were made. The American woman spoke with an American accent, but the man Bell called Dr. Bennett spoke just like Bell. He was thin, with water-colored eyes.
Pax pulled Kai in close. “Just stay here and be quiet,” he hissed.
“But Pax, what about Mega’s penis?” Kai whispered.
Pax leaned down, cupped his hand around Kai’s ear, and whispered, “Girls do not have penises. Only boys have penises. No talking.”
The woman scanned the house, her eyes trailing up and down, around and about. “It really is pink,” she announced, her voice rising in surprise. She had a very long nose. Pax thought that she looked like a horse. He glanced at Bambang. Did he notice?
“We love the color pink,” replied Bell with a snort.
Pax looked into Bell’s eyes. This was no time for her to get . . . like she got . . .
Bell caught herself and cleared her throat.
“Bell, why don’t you introduce the children?” Dr. Bennett interjected, quickly.
“The paint was a donation. Very kind.” She coughed.
“Bell, introductions?” repeated Peter.
“Of course.” Bell resumed her promenade behind the line of children. “This is Santoso and this is Guntur.” She placed a hand on each of their heads. Both did their best not to twitch. “They are twelve-year-old twins—such good boys. They were babes, hardly walking, when a policeman brought them to me. He said that they had stolen fruit from a cart one too many times. They were starving, poor things.”
Bell moved down the line. “This is Mega. She is ten years old.”
Mega looked up at Bell, then over at Pax. She was eleven! Almost imperceptibly Pax looked at Mega and shook his head. Mega stayed quiet.
“When she arrived she was so frail that it would not have surprised me if she had floated away.” Bell fluttered her fingers heavenward while moving sideways. “This is Bambang.”
“No, Bell, my name is Merrylegs!” Bambang kicked up his legs like a pony.
Bell cleared her throat. “Yes, right, Merrylegs. He likes to . . . read . . . about . . .” Bell stopped and looked at the American woman. Did she know that she looked like a horse?
“He likes to rea
d about nature.” She moved on quickly and stood behind Bhima. “Ten years ago this . . . poor child . . .” she paused.
Pax sighed. She had forgotten his name again.
“. . . arrived in the arms of a prison guard. This horrid man—quite filthy, actually—said, ‘His mother is dead. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him back to prison.’ What else could I do?” asked Bell. “They torture in prison. Everyone knows that.”
Pax sucked in his breath. Would this woman report Bell for saying bad things about the King and his government? It was hard to tell.
Finally Bell stood behind Pax. “And this is my right-hand boy. His name is Pax, Paxton, and he came to us from a loving mother. She was very sick, but despite her illness, she took great pains to find her son a good home where he would receive an education. His father died before he was born.” Bell gave Pax a little nod. She ignored Kai completely.
The American woman looked down her long nose at the orphans. Her eyebrows tented and her lips fluttered. The children smiled broadly. They knew from experience that any minute now the foreigner would reach into that big black thing around her waist and hand Bell coins. Only Pax knew that today Bell had higher hopes. If all went well—and so far, so good—the American would write a fat check, which was the same as money, or almost the same.
“Me, Bell! What about me?” Kai thumped his chest.
“And what is your name?” asked the horse-faced woman.
“My name is Kai.” He beamed.
“And how old are you?” She bent down from the waist rather like a giant chair folding in half.
“I am THREE!” he replied proudly.
The woman straightened up, tilted her head, narrowed her eyes, and peered directly at Bell. “I don’t understand. I thought all the children here were between ten and twelve years old?”
“He is visiting.” Bell went from ruddy red to paper white.
“Bell, I know something!” Kai tugged Bell’s dress.
“Later . . .” Bell peered at Pax, then shook her head, as if she were trying to get a bean out of her ear.
“What do you know?” The man with the water-colored eyes smiled at Kai.
Kai clasped his hands behind his back and took a deep breath. “I know that Bambang has a penis, Santoso has a penis, Guntur has a penis, but Mega does not have a penis because she is a girl.” He took another breath. Bell looked as though she might say something, but Kai kept going. “And Bhima has a penis and Pax has a penis.” Kai smiled. He looked at the man. “And you have a penis. And you . . .” Kai gazed up at the woman with the horse face who loomed over them all like a dark cloud. Her hair was tied up and tucked away. She wore no makeup.
Bell dropped her head. Pax held his breath. The rest of the children stared out towards the path, faces blank, eyes heavenward.
“You . . . have a penis!” Kai punched the air with his fist. He was triumphant.
No one spoke. Not a word. Even the morning sounds—birds, vendors, distant traffic, mothers bellowing at children —seemed to go mute.
“He’s a very bright child. Unusual, really . . .” Bell’s voice floated away.
Bambang couldn’t help himself. He simply could not stand still any longer. He threw his head back, neighed, stomped his feet (hooves), and went galloping down the porch and into the house.
“I think we have heard enough.” The woman pivoted on her heels and marched down the path.
Peter Bennett dug into his pocket and pulled out some bills. “We will talk later,” he said to Bell in a whisper, their two heads almost touching.
Pax edged closer. He could hear everything.
“Thank you, Peter. I know you tried,” said Bell.
“This is enough money for you to get by for the next few months. But Bell, the government is unstable.” Peter slipped Bell the roll of paper money.
“I have been hearing about the revolt for years. I thought it would have died down by now, but the guns are getting closer,” sighed Bell. There was no getting away from the sounds of a brewing civil war. At night they could hear gunfire. Bam, bam, bam, it pulsed like a hurried heart.
“Bell, none of us may be here much longer. Consider returning to England,” said Peter.
“England? This is my home. I have spent my life here. I know what they are saying. Orphanages are out of fashion. Am I supposed to spend my time looking for their relatives who do not exist? Perhaps I could place them in local houses so that they can be turned into servants. Is it better to leave them to the street? You all think that I am an old, white, imperialist colonist. I had no business coming here and picking up children like they were shiny stones. Well, it’s too late now. I love them and they love me.” Bell’s voice, at first fierce, trailed away.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You have given these children a home. And you are an orphanage in name only. You are a family. But the King and his henchmen are arresting people left and right. And the opposing bunch, who call themselves ‘liberators,’ aren’t much better. They are a ragtag group, but they may yet become a force to be reckoned with.” Peter spoke in a near-whisper, but Pax could hear quite clearly. Bell said that she loved them.
“Eventually they will come after foreigners. They’ll make life unbearable for all of us.”
“But you still have contacts in the government, correct?” asked Bell. Fear crept into her voice.
“I don’t think we can count on anyone.”
“We will get by.” Bell stood firm, but she sounded tired.
Peter nodded in Kai’s direction. “He speaks like a six-year-old.”
“He can read, too.” Pax’s interruption startled Bell. She glared at the boy.
“Can he? So he does live here. I thought there was an understanding, Bell. No new children. I can’t protect you if you break the rules.” Dr. Peter Bennett did not speak harshly or rudely. There may even have been a small smile on his lips. It was hard for Pax to tell.
Bell looked as though she might say something, but then seemed to change her mind. The horsey woman was waiting down the path. “You had better go,” she said.
Dr. Bennett nodded, hopped the ditch, and followed the woman down the path towards the main road.
“Now, where do I start with you lot?” Bell looked at Pax. “Isn’t it bad enough that we have one child who thinks he is a horse? You are the one I trust, but did you take this child to Ol’ May’s when I asked you? No. And then you brag about him!” Bell turned away from Pax, bent forward, put her hands on her knees, and stared into Kai’s very large brown eyes. “As for you . . .” She paused. Her lips flapped, and her jaw went up and down, but words did not come out.
Finally she stood up straight, sighed, and said, “Pax, put this money in the money box. Take out enough to buy yourself a pair of shorts for school. Did you think I didn’t notice? Kai needs shorts too. Go!” She dropped the bills into Pax’s hand. “And take the penis counter with you!”
Chapter 5
Two years later
“Breakfast,” Mega called out as she placed a bowl of fruit on a mat. Now thirteen and still very shy, she was in full control of the kitchen, having assumed the role of cook naturally. The other children pitched in.
“Eat up, you lot, or you will be late for school,” Bell bellowed from the doorway of her office. But her bellow was no longer fierce and was often followed by a coughing fit. She was tired a great deal of the time now, too. And she was no longer round and soft; in fact, she was skinny.
“We are leaving, Bell,” said Pax.
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out. AND SHOES!!!” Bell bellowed and waved at the same time.
Shoes. Each child sighed. Bell believed that children had to learn how to wear shoes. That is to say, the soles of one’s feet, left to their own devices, would harden into thick, flat, black, leathery flippers without the experience of shoe-wearing. Given that Bell had ambitions for every child, the wearing of shoes was a necessity. But how to outfit children who insisted on growing? I
n the end, each child had a pair of slip-slidey, toe-numbing shoes that they wore down the path to school. But once out of sight of the Pink House, and Bell, the shoes were removed and fastened (by laces, string, or plastic-bag ties) to each child’s waist.
One might imagine that owning shoes would be a status symbol. Quite the opposite. The sight of the children with shoes bouncing off their legs or backsides announced to the neighborhood that they were from the Pink House and therefore orphans. To be an orphan did not simply mean that one did not have parents, it also meant that a child had no older siblings, aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, second cousins, third, fourth, or fifth cousins. The children with the shoes tied to their bodies had no one. Children that unlucky were to be avoided at all costs.
Pax followed Santoso, Guntur, Mega, Bambang, and Bhima out of the house, across the ditch, and down the lane. Only Kai remained behind.
Pax called their area a village. Bell had an English word for it: slum. For a very long time he didn’t know what that meant. She might have said platypus or penguin for all the meaning the word had to him. But then he’d looked up the word in one of the fat books on the shelf in Bell’s office. “Slum—squalid, overcrowded, inhabited by very poor people. Hovel, rathole.” He’d also looked up the word village: “larger than a hamlet and smaller than a town. Settlement.”
“We do not live in a rathole, we live in a village,” he muttered as he stepped up his speed. Teacher would be angry if they were late.
Five-year-old Kai sat cross-legged on the floor of Bell’s office, pencil in hand, looking pensive. “Bell, do you know that eight times eight equals sixty-four, but if you take sixty-four and divide it by four it’s sixteen, and if you take sixteen and multiply it by four it’s sixty-four again?” He looked pleased.
“I do now.” Bell sighed. Pax had taught Kai a few simple additions, then subtractions. Kai had learned his multiplication tables on his own.
Kai jumped up and picked a red ribbon off Bell’s desk.
“Don’t touch that. It’s for Mega. I traded a perfectly ugly pair of earrings my mother left me for that,” snapped Bell.