Finding Katie: The Diary of Anonymous, a Teenager in Foster Care

by Beatrice Sparks

  Wednesday, February 23

  Mrs. Jackson fell down the basement steps a couple of weeks ago and hurt her back. Since then I’ve also taken on the “mother” role. It’s too bad that her accident happened just as she was kind of beginning to understand a little about what “mothering” is! I remember when we went through the mothering section in a mental health class. Sister Martha would have made a wonderful mother. I wonder why she became a nun.

  Lately I’m often getting so weary that I wonder if a convent isn’t where I’m going to wind up.

  Tuesday, March 1

  Today the Child Protection ladies came again. They were absolutely amazed by the change in Donita, her running around and talking and laughing. She even sang a little song for them, which Melba Lacy and I had made up:

  I’m happy, you’re happy, happy is nice.

  I’m happy, you’re happy….

  Sing the song twice.

  We all laughed and clapped our hands after she had finished, and Miss Martin reached into her purse and found a piece of candy for Donita. Little Donita was so excited she wanted each of us to take a lick.

  Our little ugly duckling has turned into a beautiful miniature princess! The frightened child who had, not long ago, shrunk away from every living thing now belongs to the happy side of life! My heart thumped with joy.

  By the time Miss Martin had finished with her Child Protection checklist, she too had fallen in love with the sunshiny little creature who used to be just a blob.

  Thursday, March 3

  Miss Witterhouse, who teaches fifth grade and is also the school nurse, saw me leaning against the hall wall and suggested I come into the First Aid Room. I tried to perk up and follow her, but even walking was hard. She asked me lots of questions and took my blood pressure and stuff, then asked me what I was eating and doing during school and at home. I told her what I thought she wanted to hear, just as the bell rang.

  On the way home on the bus Melba Lacy said Miss Witterhouse had asked her into the First Aid Room and had quizzed her in detail about me. I felt uncomfortable as she said she had told the absolute truth about me doing most of the work around the house, as well as tutoring her about everything important to get into college, so she could get a good job and be a somebody! She also told Miss Witterhouse that I was basically the one who had gotten through Donita’s hard shell and into her heart and a lot of other stuff that she had a big part in! I reached over and hugged her for making me seem so magnanimous. I’d always wanted to have that word bestowed upon me, since the day I first heard it in a spelling bee study.

  Goodnight dear little sisters, Donita and Melba Lacy.

  I rarely think of Dick and Frog anymore, or my stranger daddy and what’s happened to Mama. What will happen to her when she’s no longer young and beautiful? But I can’t allow myself to think about that. It’s too painful. Painful is not nearly a destructive enough word!

  Friday, March 4

  Miss Witterhouse met me in the hall at lunchtime and gave me some vitamins and minerals to take. She also said I’d been working too hard, both at school as a teacher’s aide and in the mother role since Mrs. Jackson had been “laid up out of commission.”

  Uggggh, I’m beginning to understand their slovenly verbalizations.

  But that doesn’t make me better than they are, especially after Daddy, who I trusted implicitly…don’t go there self! Go to sleep and dream sweet dreams of the glorious future that Melba Lacy and Donita and you are headed for.

  Saturday, March 5

  Last night on the porch steps, Melba Lacy and I talked about everything good that was going to happen in our lives. How we were going to go to college on scholarships. (How I’m going to manage that is left up to faith at this moment.)

  I don’t know what happened to Melba Lacy, but while we were looking up at the stars, talking about how beautiful they were, she quietly said, “I’m going to change my name to Star.” It took me a long time to explain how hard it would be to legally change her name.

  Melba Lacy (who usually spreads sunshine around every thing she touches) seemed so downcast that I tried to raise her spirits, but I couldn’t, not one bit.

  Finally she snuggled close to me and whispered that she hated the name Melba because it was also her mother’s name, and that she had let him do the bad things to her.

  Tears overwhelmed me as they froze into hard rocks of ice throughout my body. This priceless little girl who had chosen to be a friend and neighbor to everyone she met had herself been abused. Still she had somehow turned the anger into love, at least for most people.

  We wept together and clung terrified in a black limbo, until I was able to tell her a little about my time when…

  She pulled away from me in the middle of my first sentence and crumpled against the porch post. Then she told me that her father had hurt her as far back as she could remember, often with her mother passed out at his side.

  By that time I was numb. Still I slowly slid toward her. “You’re right, little sister,” I whispered. Then I told her I thought we should take her name “Melba” and go bury it behind the chicken pen, never to even think of it again.

  She agreed and we wrapped the name Melba in an old piece of newspaper, placed it deep in the ground, and covered it with chicken droppings. Then we crossed our hearts and repeated our vow not to ever, ever, ever think of our…bad things…again.

  When we got back to the middle of the yard, a lacy trail of white cloud floated over and between the stars, almost in a blessing kind of way! “See those lacy white clouds? They have chosen your new name,” I whispered as I hugged her so hard she gasped. “The name Melba that was your mother’s is gone, and now there’s only you, Lacy.”

  “Lacy, Lacy, Lacy…” she repeated over and over, as though she had never heard the word before.

  It was very late when we started for the house! But we had dumped mounds of mental garbage. I felt a lot like the new Lacy, that I had buried a lot of my mental garbage, too.

  Monday, March 7

  I think my vitamins, minerals, and strict eating patterns are doing me good. Miss Martin from Child Protection makes sure we get the right food every week now, but Mrs. Jackson is still unable to do any work around the house.

  Lacy and I found some old rope and made a swing for Donita. She loves it and sings:

  Up, up in the sky,

  Where the little birds fly

  With Donita and Lacy and Katie.

  It’s funny how nobody seemed to have any kind of problem with Lacy’s name, not even the kids at school.

  Tuesday, March 8

  Often I dream about Mark and Jennifer and the dear, dear nuns that sometimes I used to think were too strict. How grateful I am for the wonderful education they gave me, and that I can share at least some of it with Lacy. Sometimes I literally cry over the lazy way the kids are taught here. Education isn’t thought of as one of “the majestic stairways to eternity,” as Sister Mary used to call it. I wish, I wish, I wish I could go back! But that would only be if I could take Lacy and Donita with me! They are now my family, and I must prepare them to get out of this lower-class existence! In many ways they aren’t even aware of what wonderful things are going on outside this rural little community. If they only knew about museums, with dinosaurs and statues and things that existed long, long before the time of Jesus…and aquariums, and the Hollywood Bowl, and planetariums, and just walking through great universities, like UCLA, and seeing thousands and thousands of books, all in good condition, in the libraries. There are so many things I want to teach them and show them!

  Wednesday, March 9

  Today has been the blackest day of my life!

  The Child Protection ladies came and Miss Martin, without any warning, told us that she had found a wonderful home for Donita, “now that she had come out of her shell and is becoming, in all ways, like a normal child.”

  I don’t know how Miss Martin could have prepared us for this, and I guess I should be happy
that Donita is going to a nice home in Pasadena, which is a lovely city, but still it’s like tearing out and taking away part of my heart.

  I could tell by the look on Lacy’s face, and the tears in her eyes, that she feels exactly like I do.

  The ladies and Mrs. Jackson started talking about some papers and saying it was hard to put black children into prestigious homes. That Donita would be lucky!

  I wanted to scream and tell them how “lucky” I was! Prestigious home? Yes! Loving and caring home? No. My nannies and tutors, especially the nuns, taught me everything I know about the good and right things in life. What if the new family isn’t good to Donita?

  Miss Martin had lured Donita up onto her lap with some Hershey’s Kisses. Lacy and I watched as she reached into her bag for toys to play with and cookies to munch on. With broken hearts we knew that she had been bought and paid for by the system.

  Something inside tried to tell me that maybe Donita would be going to a wonderful home, with love, music, and laughter filling in every room. Maybe I was just being possessive and jealous because I had been mainly the one who dragged Donita out of her black, closed-out pit, inch by inch, syllable by syllable, musical note by musical note, touch by touch, hug by hug! I wanted what was best for her! I did! I do! I really do! But at the same time I feel like I’m losing a part of myself.

  Donita kissed Lacy and me before she, with an armful of presents, skipped, humming and happy, to the car that was going to take her to another life.

  After the car had disappeared out of sight, Mrs. Jackson sat down on the steps with Lacy and me and we all cried for a while. Then Mrs. Jackson told us what she said she shouldn’t tell us.

  It seems some different ladies, who had brought Donita to her house, had left a stack of papers on her table. Papers that told about her past: horrible, almost unspeakable, sexual, physical, and verbal abuse. When the Jacksons got her she was like a rag doll. She could not walk, talk, or feed herself, and at times she seemed almost blind, her eyes were so unfocused.

  Mrs. Jackson credited me entirely with bringing the child out of her shell. That wasn’t really true because Lacy helped a lot. Little Lacy who sees only the good in life. She seems to be able to overlook, or something, the old bad things in her life while I seem to be hanging onto mine like I will never let go! I wish I could let go…

  Dear, dear Jesus, please, please help me to let go.

  Thursday, March 10

  Lacy and I both cried and prayed for Donita most of the night. Twice Lacy sneaked to my cot and we cuddled together and whispered about dear little Donita, and how hard it would be to live here without her.

  This morning Lacy and I asked Mrs. Jackson if we could possibly phone Donita or write to her. Mrs. Jackson said there was no way we could do that.

  All day at school I was like a zombie, worrying about Donita, wanting to go and kidnap her and Lacy and take them…where? Lacy had been in three different homes before she came here. I don’t know if they moved her around because…Oh, I hope not! But why would they move her if…maybe the people got sick…or died…or…

  Monday, March 14

  Today is another hellish one. The Child Protection ladies, this time a different pair, brought Charles and Belva to become part of our family. Both of them seemed sullen and angry. When they were introduced to us Charles whispered, while the ladies were talking, “You hos call me Charles and I’ll scramble your brains. My name is Cha!” The look on his face made us think he really meant what he said, and that we will call him Cha forever more.

  Tuesday, March 15

  Lacy and I have been sitting out on the steps talking for hours, wondering if Donita is missing us as much as we are missing her, wondering if she’ll have a mother or a nanny who will encourage her to grow mentally and in every other way.

  We pretended that she now lives in a lovely little cottage with a swimming pool and a nice clean room of her own, and a mother who spoils her terribly…not really spoils her, but teaches her to find happiness by doing unto others as she would have them do unto her. That is what dear Lacy does, and she didn’t even know she was doing it until I told her about the nuns.

  As much as I miss Donita, which is with every cell in my body, I’m glad she isn’t here. I don’t trust Cha one bit, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he…Oh, come on Katie, now you are conjuring up trouble.

  Wednesday, March 16

  When Dick and Frog were here, they slept in the same room. Now Belva has the extra cot in with us. It is so crowded we almost have to hop over each other, and we can’t whisper to each other any time we want because Belva curses at us and tells us to “Shut the——up.” She has got the worst dirty mouth I’ve ever heard. In fact, half of her vocabulary I don’t even understand. It’s almost like a foreign language…but you can still tell it’s obscene!

  Thursday, March 31

  I’m worried about Lacy. Cha and Belva are always buying her stuff and giving her money, and they are keeping her away from me as much as they can. They always sit with her between them on the bus, and they are nice to her while they ignore me completely. I hope they aren’t going to pull her away from me.

  Lacy has been doing so well in all the different categories of life that my self-confidence hasn’t been in the dumps all the way. She’s been helping her teacher and getting fantastic grades on all her tests. But for some unknown reason she’s still being pulled toward Cha and Belva like a magnet. In our cramped surroundings at home or on the bus, I haven’t been able to talk to her without having Cha or Belva over my shoulder.

  Something is going on that is making goose bumps hop up and down my back!.

  I know that Lacy isn’t working on her homework like she used to and that I’m seeing money change hands in a way that is really suspicious. But I can’t find a way to talk to Lacy about it. No telling what Cha and probably Belva would do to me, or Lacy, if I tried to get in their way. They are really sweet to both Mr. and Mrs. Jackson at home. I know it’s fake but obviously the Jacksons don’t!

  Sometimes on the school grounds Cha and Belva are like demonic animals. And once on the bus, I saw Cha take a small knife out of his pocket and stab a kid in the arm because he wouldn’t change seats with him. Then he whispered something to the kid that made his face turn white and he immediately got up and moved.

  I’m scared of Cha and Belva twenty-four hours a day, because they are estranging Lacy from me, but mainly because they are leading her astray and I can’t understand how they are doing that! I’m so worried I can’t sleep, I’m beginning to get depressed again, and I constantly dream about little Donita. Life is…I’m not even going to write it!

  Thursday, April 7

  Today Cha and Belva didn’t get on the bus after school. After we’d gone a few blocks Lacy came over and sat by me. We wondered what had happened to them. When we got home Mrs. Jackson was furiously out of control. She said the school had called and Cha and Belva had been picked up for selling drugs on the school grounds. Then she yelled and swore about how hard it was to have delinquent, evil kids in your home. She acted like we were as bad as they were and we crept outside to get out of her way.

  All during dinner Mrs. Jackson complained about how hard she had it and how nobody appreciated everything she did for them, and who in hell she’d get to take Cha’s and Belva’s places. We were glad when the Jacksons got through slurping down their food and waddled in to the living room to become one with their television programs.

  Friday, April 8

  Sitting on the porch steps and listening to the crickets and watching the moon and stars (that is, when you can see them through the smog) is therapeutic.

  For two or three weeks, Lacy has been in the grip of Cha and Belva. Poor little naïve thing! She really thought they were doing good. They had told her that a wealthy man Cha knew was giving him money to give to throw-away kids like us. She wanted to give some to me, but Cha said I had disrespected him and she had to choose between helping poor kids or doing my selfish
thing. She started crying then like the dam within her had broken and I held her tight and told her over and over that she hadn’t done anything wrong.

  After a few minutes of blubbering and sniffing, she told me how she had given kids little envelopes Cha said were full of money to help them buy things they could in no other way have. They, in turn, gave her back little envelopes to give to Cha and Belva.

  She broke down completely then, and put her head in my lap, sobbing that she was as bad as they were…and she would probably go to jail with them…that she deserved it for being so gullible. She asked me if I could ever forgive her and if I would come and visit her in the juvenile hall. We were like real sisters again, clinging together like we had no one, or nothing, to cling to!

  Sunday, April 10

  For three days Lacy and I have both been thinking that at any moment the police would drive up to the door, or the phone would ring, wanting Lacy to come to juvenile court or something. We were being like angels, cleaning up the house after we’d made breakfast, mowing the lawn, trimming the hedges, fixing dinner, and cleaning up. Being so polite and grateful for just being together that we could hardly stand it.

  Lacy couldn’t believe that she had literally been selling drugs. She, the Pollyanna of all Pollyannas, being a schoolyard pusher.