Read The War that Saved My Life for Free Online Page B

ham. I wanted to smack him. Hot food and meat. Miss Smith might not want us, but she was feeding us fine. Not to mention, I had a shoe. That meant she didn’t mind if I went outside.
    “Leave him,” Miss Smith said tiredly, when I started to tell Jamie off. To Jamie she said, “You can’t have second helpings of anything until you’ve taken one bite of everything on your plate.”
    There had been pieces of cloth on the table, folded under the forks. Before she started eating Miss Smith had put hers on her lap, so we had too. Now Jamie took his cloth and used it to cover his head. “I want ham, ” he said, through the cloth.
    “You may have more ham after you’ve tried a bite of everything,” Miss Smith said. “You’re allowed to dislike food, but not before you’ve tasted it. And get that napkin off your head.”
    Jamie hurled his plate against the wall. It shattered. Miss Smith screamed.
    I tackled Jamie. I grabbed a piece of tomato off the floor and mashed it between his lips. He spat it at me. “Eat it!” I roared. I grabbed peas and shoved those down his gullet. He choked and gagged. Miss Smith yanked me loose.
    “Ada!” she said. “Ada, stop it! You’ll hurt him!”
    Hurt him, when it was him disobeying.
    “Bedtime, Jamie!” Miss Smith grabbed his flailing arm. “Bath, then bed!” She pulled him off the floor and carried him kicking and screaming up the stairs.
    I’ll kill him, I thought. I’ll murder him for acting this way.
    I found my crutches and got to my feet. I picked up the broken pieces of plate, and the food scattered across the floor. I wiped up the water I’d spilled when I knocked over my glass. I could hear Jamie screaming upstairs. Miss Smith was either bathing him or slaughtering him; either was fine by me.
    When I finished cleaning the kitchen I climbed the stairs. Dead easy with the crutches. The screaming had stopped. “I put clean water in the bath for you,” Miss Smith said. “Did you finish your supper?”
    I nodded. I was still hungry, but my stomach was turning circles and I couldn’t eat.
    There was hot water, soap, a towel. I already felt clean, but the water was soothing. Afterward I put on new clothes called pajamas, that were supposed to be just to sleep in. Tops and bottoms, both blue. The fabric was so soft that for a moment I held it against my face. It was all soft, this place. Soft and good and frightening. At home I knew who I was.
    When I went into the bedroom Jamie was curled into a little ball, snoring, and Miss Smith was dozing in the chair beside the bed. She’s not a nice person, I reminded myself, and went to sleep.

    In the middle of the night I jumped awake, the way I did when Mam brought home guests. I sat up and clutched the blankets to me. My breath came in ragged gasps.
    Miss Smith said, “It’s all right, Ada. You’re all right.”
    I turned. She was still sitting in the chair beside Jamie. Moonlight came through the window. Miss Smith’s face was in shadow.
    My heart hammered. My head whirled.
    “You’re all right,” Miss Smith repeated. “Did you have a nightmare?”
    Did I? I didn’t know. Jamie lay beside me, his mouth slightly open, his breathing soft and regular.
    “Were there bombs?” I asked.
    She shook her head. “No. I didn’t hear anything, but I woke up too.” She held her wrist up to a patch of moonlight. “It’s gone three o’clock. I didn’t mean to fall asleep here. I’ve slept in this chair most of the night.”
    Somehow I could hear her smiling. “I haven’t slept well for a long time. Since Becky died, I don’t sleep well.”
    I asked, “When did she die?”
    Miss Smith cleared her throat. “Three years ago. Three years ago next Tuesday.”
    She hadn’t slept well for three years?
    “It’s part of why I didn’t want to take you,” she continued. “It’s nothing to do with you. I’m always so much worse in the fall. And then the days get so short and—well, I’m never very good in the winter