I shouldn’t still be here.

The sisters find jobs for everyone before their eighteenth birthdays, but mine came and went, unnoticed, two weeks ago. 

I blew hot breath on my hands and crunched across the frost-covered ground. Chickens clucked and pecked at my heels until I filled all the feeding troughs. There was no point in pestering the sisters about why they’d forgotten me. They would just find even worse punishments for me. I would have to leave and find work on my own. I couldn’t bear spending the rest of my life doing mundane chores around St. Stephen’s Orphanage. 

I picked the eggs out of the laying baskets, wiped them clean, and then placed them in the bucket. Twenty-three eggs today. At least Cook would be pleased. 

In the last basket, instead of an egg, a lump of brown fur nestled amongst the hay. I groaned so loud the noise would have scared a healthy rabbit away. I lowered the egg bucket and leaned forward. My breath formed a cloud of white air that hung over the limp body.

I carefully lifted the rabbit from the prickly straw bed, but it sagged glassy-eyed and dead in my hand. I stroked its silky fur and whispered to the cold body. Butterflies squirmed in my stomach, and an army of tiny feet danced across my skin. I rubbed my finger gently where I thought the rabbit’s heart might be. It felt right, like I had to do it. 

A heavy weight pushed against my chest. What was happening to me? I forced myself to focus, but the effort drained me. I sank to my knees and sagged against the bowed shelf.

The rabbit twitched and seemed to whisper back to me. I jerked up straight. Its eyes flicked open and looked right into mine, and its back feet kicked into my wrist as it squirmed to get free. I eased back onto my heels and sucked deep breaths into tight lungs. 

“Judy!” Sister Margaret hurried across the shed. “What are you doing? Are you hurt?”
I couldn’t let her catch me again. This happened once before, a month ago when a dead otter wriggled off my lap right in front of Sister Beatrice. I’d ended up locked in the library for the rest of the day and overnight.

I let the rabbit go. It darted under a pile of hay and, I hoped, out through the hole at the bottom of the shed. 

I scrambled to my feet and grabbed the bucket. “No, Sister, I’m fine.”

“Then why are you dilly dallying? You’ll be late for the guest speaker. Give me that.” She snatched the bucket from my hand. “No time for breakfast. Go directly to the hall.”

I raced along the tiled colonnade, trying to tuck bits of stray hair into my ponytail as I ran. With a bit of luck I wouldn’t be the last one to clatter into the hall. I turned the corner and reeled back.