Read Missing Sisters -SA for Free Online

But Alice felt bullied into accepting his kindness.
    She had actually liked sitting with the college boy. Sort of. In a friendly way.

    “Tell you what we’ll do,” said Father Laverty, guiding his little car through neighborhoods made mysterious by the black winter night and the white snow falling against it.
    “I’ve got a key to Sacred Heart. I’ll unlock the side door and see if you can slip in. If there’s no hubbub, all the better. But don’t lie about it if anyone has noticed you were missing. Tell the truth and tell Sister John Boss to call me if she needs proof.” Sister John Boss. He called her that, too. Alice looked at him sideways. He winked at her.
    “And do this again, Alice Colossus, and you’re in very hot water.”

    “I took some money for the bus,” she told him, to get it all over with.

    “We’ll let it go this time,” he said.

    She relaxed. He smelled like cigarettes and mothballs and sweat. He was a big, fat young man, pinker than nuns, with huge bare hands like Mickey Mouse gloves. “Do you know where Sister Vincent de Paul is staying, is she getting okay?” she said.

    “You’re very attached to Sister Vincent de Paul,” he observed. She realized he hadn’t exactly understood her question. But he went on. “I heard about that couple who wanted to take you in on a trial basis. The Harrisons?”

    “Harrigans,” she said, and even to her it sounded like Hooligans.

    “I wish you’d given them a chance,” he said. “You’re a likable young person. But Sister Vincent de Paul’s accident has stood in the way. You must move on, Alice. As Jesus said—” He paused for so long that even Alice knew Jesus had never uttered a word about orphans abandoning their good friends who happened to be nuns.

    “As Jesus said,” he continued, pulling up in front of the home, “it ain’t over till it’s over.” He grinned at her. “Be good. And better leave my coat here—they’ll wonder.” She nodded her thanks. Under his big, fat, unthreatening arm she was hustled to the side door. “Say your prayers,” he said, rolling his eyes at the idea of anxious sisters inside. “I’m getting outta here while the getting’s good.”

    “Right,” she said, and slipped away inside.

    Safely, as it turned out. She’d reached the second-floor stairs before anyone saw her.
    “Oh, there you are. We’re taking orders for subs,” said Sister John Vianney. “Roast beef or tuna?”

    “Tuna,” said Alice, mainly because it was easier to say.

    In the lavatory she rinsed her face. Her shoulder felt warm. She pulled back her cardigan and blouse to see the pale knob of shoulder. It was not red. It was not warm from Father Laverty but from the young man with the guitar. The warmth dried the snow from her hair and the fear from her throat. She was only twelve. She remembered this and thought about it.

    Naomi Matthews came rushing in. “Oh, Alice,” she said, all brightness, an Up with People medley all by herself. She must be back to being holy again after her nastiness earlier.
    She began to brush her terracotta hair as if beating a rug, fiercely, out of joy. “You’ll never guess. Sister John Bosco, she called me from the wreck room? Remember? It was those Harrigans. They were so upset by seeing you again today, they wanted to take another chance.
    They talked to me. They’re going to see about taking me ! I just told them one thing. If they said yes they wanted me, then I’d do it. I’d give it a try. But I just couldn’t go until after My Fair Lady . It wouldn’t be fair. I couldn’t leave you in the lurch like that.” The two Eliza Doolittles stared at each other in the bathroom mirror. Behind them the radiators clanked and cleared their throats. The bad Eliza, who couldn’t speak English correctly, just kept feeling her shoulder. The good Eliza, who would come onstage after the character had learned to speak correctly and be beautiful and sophisticated and rich, rubbed her