Page 38 of An Unexpected Ascension
“Briar!” Sister Mary singsongs.
Growling at myself, I say, “I know, I know. They’ll never learn.”
“They also won’t feel the pain,” she reminds me.
I set him down, explaining to him why we don’t climb the shelves. Although, the logic doesn’t really stand anymore since the danger doesn’t exist. Now, it’s just considered bad manners.
“When you need something, what do you do?” I quiz him.
“Ask for help.” He smiles.
“Exactly, now which book were you looking for?”
He points to one on the third row. I hover my hand over one then another until he’s nodding his head excitedly.
The baby in Jessie’s arms starts to fuss, drawing my attention over to her.
“Here, I can—” I start, but Jessie seems engrossed by the little girl.
Her warm chocolate eyes catch mine briefly, a subtle reassuring look that’s she’s more than capable, so I back off.
“Miss Briar?” A young girl around the age of four tugs at the hem of my shirt.
I kneel down, my face level with hers and scan her little pale face. Her dark bangs bounce against her forehead, her hair pulled into a ponytail with a small purple scrunchy. In her, I see myself.
“Yes, Daphne?”
“When I was little, I used to have a puppy. Can you help me draw one?”
“Of course!” I smile, letting her lead me to her table near the window.
I sit on the small, child sized chair next to the girl as she places crayons in front of me. Another perk of helping at the orphanage is not having to pay for all these little luxuries. Her eyes widen as I pick up the brown one, the tip already to paper.
“No! He wasn’t that color. He was black with white spots.”
“Oh, a Dalmatian.”
“No. Not like the dogs in 101 Dalmatians. He was all black, but his paws and belly were white.”
“Ah, got it.”
I didn’t know enough about dogs to name that one, let alone try to guess, so I just swapped the brown crayon for the black one and started drawing.
The girl watched me, explaining every now and then what the dog looked like, what his name was – Blackberry, because he was black...
When I finished the outline, she insisted she color it in. Handing over the crayon, Sister Mary calls my name.
I look up to find her busy shushing a crying toddler.
“Yes?”
“When you leave, can you take those clothes there over to Sally in the Market, she’s just past the dais to the right. It’s the bright yellow tent. She offered to make a trade for little May over there with Jessie. That girl is growing like crazy!”
She nods her head to the pile of clothes on the counter by the door.
“Of course! I’d be happy to.”
Sister Mary smiles her thanks.
