Chapter Three
Maria
Sister Marcella wakes us earlier than usual. We are going on a planned hiking trip up one of the neighbouring mountains. A bunch of teachers from a school in the town organised it. Since we have apparently been well behaved and worked well on our studies, the sisters thought we could use an outing. They organised with the school for us to go on the trip with them in the mid-year break. We are all very excited. Most of us have spent forever in the orphanage and we’ve nearly forgotten how to make new friends. We are also very excited at the prospect of the boys that will be coming on the trip. Because the convent is an all-girls orphanage we’ve all had no or very little interaction with boys our age, or men in general. Even though I know I can never have a relationship with any of them I am still very excited. ‘Boys are boys after all’ as Camilla had pointed out a few days ago.
Mother Katarina interrupts our packing. She is holding the hand of a small girl. She looks about eleven years old, but since she will obviously be in our dorm I know she must be at least thirteen. She has golden hair, light skin and blue eyes, very different to everyone else in the room. Nearly all the girls at the orphanage are of a South American heritage. They are all olive skinned, with brown, straight hair and brown eyes. My green eyes and curls set me apart from then even though I adjusted my hair colour and skin years ago when Nora was still here. She looks around at us nervously. Some of the girls still hold clothing in their hands and everyone is impatient to be packed and ready to go. Mother Katarina introduces the girl as Eliena Rose and tells us the usual prep talk for new kids. Be nice, help them out and don’t push them for information. Mother Katarina takes Eliena out of the room and down the hallway to get her some clothes. Probably a bag as well; I assume she will still be coming with us. We all rush back to work, filling our bags with all the clothes and things we will need. Camilla runs into the room her shirt bulging with a hidden package. She closes the door behind her breathing heavily. We all look to her, intrigued by what she has for us.
“Camilla, what have you brought?” Rosa asks.
A smile spreads across Camilla’s face and from under her shirt she brings out a bulging plastic bag. She empties its contents onto one of the beds; Lollies, hundreds of lollies. There are so many chocolates and lollypops and toffee that I cannot focus on them all at once. It’s more than I have ever seen at one time. Camilla starts dividing them between us, giving each of us an equal share of the candy. Our faces are all bright with excitement.
“Where did you find these?” one of the girls asks in bewilderment.
“I brought them really cheap from one of the corner stores near the church.” She answers
“Where-ever did you find the money?” another girl asks.
“Last week when I went with Carla into town to spread the word of god I came across a $20 note,” she says with a smile. “I thought I could put it to good use and buy us all sweats for the journey up the mountain.”
We quickly pack our lolly and chocolate piles into our bags. We stash the plastic bag and receipt deep in the bin outside the room. Just as we have gotten rid of all the evidence Mother Katarina renters with Eliena. We all realise in an instant that we did not set aside any for her. After talking to Eliena for a few more minutes Mother Katarina finally goes, leaving Eliena standing in the doorway awkwardly with a bag full of clothes. We all stare at her and she stares back her cheeks flushing red. I make the first move. I walk towards Eliena and the door. Every set of eyes in the room follow my movements. I close the door and move back towards my bed and open my bag. From within it I pull out a small handful of my lollies. I set them on the spare bed next to mine. The other girls follow suite until the pile is the size of the rest of ours. All of this occurs in complete silence and when it’s done we all look towards Eliena. A small, shy smile creeps onto her face. She looks around the room quickly before moving to the bed and setting down her things. All the girls get back to packing, satisfied with their strange welcome. I am already finished though so instead I sit on the bed next to Eliena.
“I’m María,” I say peering at her turned head.
She shuffles around on the bed and looks me in the eye. “Muchas Gracias,” she whispers back unsure of the pronunciations of the Spanish words. She gestures towards the pile of sweets.
“It’s ok, we’re all family here” I reply in my perfect English. I haven’t spoken English for so long that the words feel weird on my tongue, but I can still remember them with ease.
She seems pleased that someone else here can speak English. I look at her, really look at her. I have a weird urge to trust her despite knowing nothing about her. Although I am not sure why, I have a sense that I could tell her anything and she would just accept it in a calm, quiet way. Sister Marcella comes into the room and tells us to start bringing our backpacks outside and place them in the bus. I pick up my bag and wait for Eliena to do the same. We join the herd of children making for the bus. The bus will take us to the school where we will meet up with the other school children. From the school we will change to the buses that will take us to the beginning of the hiking trail. We are going to spend the night and half the next day up on the mountain. We will hike 5 hours up to a camping spot high in the mountains. There are apparently small log cabins up there that we will stay in. The next day there will be lots of snow activities before we eat lunch and head home. It’s a long hike but I know I am fit enough. It will be nice to be able to interact with the other kids and I’m sure we are all ready for a change of scenery. We climb onto the bus in single file and take up all the seats. Several of us stand up but I hopped on early and found Eliena and myself a seat. When we arrive at the school all of us press our faces against the cold glass windows and stare out at the other teens. There are forty-two of us and about 40 of them. It is not the whole school, only those crazy enough to follow a heap of orphans and nuns up a mountain just before winter. I repeat this to Eliena and she laughs at the ridiculousness of the situation. Her laugh is soon followed by a look of sadness. I know something haunts her as Nora and my future haunts me, but now is not the time to ask.
I am amazed at the size of the bags the school children carry. How do they expect to carry that for five hours up the side of a mountain? After the high school kids finish packing their bus with their backpacks they pile onto the other buses and we make our way to the start of the trail.
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We stare up at the mountain before us and start following the scout up the trail. After the first hour it begins to snow lightly. We are all having a great time, talking and laughing as we make our way through the frost covered forest. It’s not a particularly hard hike. The trail twists through the cliffs and forests at a nice, gentle slope. In the second hour the snow begins to fall more heavily. Someone throws a snowball and before long we are all being flogged. It lasts for about fifteen minutes before someone accidentally hits one of the guides in the back of the head. The death glare we receive from both the teachers and sisters are enough to stop us instantly. After the snow fight we all quiet down and chat amongst ourselves. I move away from the group of people I was talking to and make my way over to Eliena. She is walking by herself on the side of the path, close to the trees. She is humming a soft tune and has a deep, thoughtful look upon her face. I wonder what she is thinking. I approach her from behind.
“Hola,” I say then quickly correct myself. “Hey.”
She turns to see who it’s. “Hey,” she says back when she sees that it’s me. She slows down a little so that I can walk beside her.
“You looked deep in thought, what’s troubling you?” I ask in English, although I already have a pretty good guess at what it is.
She is silent for a few moments before she answers. “My parents…”
I look to her again, not knowing what to say next. When the new kids usually arrive at the orphanage the girls are pretty quick to draw out their back story, but I had never tried it. I usually left it to them to tell me all the new gossip.
She continues without me prodding though, she knows that I must be curious. “They died,” she says then corrects herself.
“No, they were murdered. The only reason being the money in their wallets. Now I’m stuck, all alone in a shitty foreign country.” Tears start welling in her eyes but she keeps them under control.
“This place isn’t that bad,” I say gently. “I won’t tell you that it gets any better, because it doesn’t, but we have all lost something here. That is what bands us together.”
“It’s like there is a hole inside of me though. A great, large, gaping hole that continuously seems to eat me from the inside out,” she says to me.
We are both silent for several minutes before she starts speaking again. “I used to live in Florida. I had a house, family, friends and a life. We were on a holiday through South America. We saw the Amazon River. We hiked up a heap of mountains to see snow and old buildings that used to belong to the Incas. It was really great.” She is smiling to herself now, as she runs through the memories.
She becomes serious again. “We were in some city in Argentina and Mum and Dad left me at the hotel. They were going to out to a romantic restaurant somewhere in the city. They never came home. I had no other family or legal guardians back in the USA so they sent me here.” She has the same sad look on her face as she did when she started talking.
She looks to me. “What about you?” she says.
I have a weird urge to tell her everything. I don’t know why. I have had to hold it all up inside of me for so long that I feel as though I need an outlet. I don’t tell her though. I know I can’t ever tell anyone, so I tell her the story I tell everyone.
“I lived on the streets for years,” I say with no real emotion. “My parents died when I was really little and I lived by myself. I would move from house to house asking for food and money. Five years ago I was attacked in an alley by a man. I somehow escaped and ran away. The police found me lying exhausted in the middle of the road and they bought me here.”
Eliena looks to me surprised, probably trying to picture my imaginary life. “You say that as though it doesn’t matter,” she says.
“It doesn’t.” I reply, “I live here now. I get food and clothes and a place to live. All for a few prayers now and then.”
Her next question catches me off guard; no-one had ever asked me this. “If you have lived in South America all your life how come you can speak English so well?”
I’ve never really shown anyone that I could speak English. I am unsure of how to answer and I can tell Eliena can sense my unease. I shrug my shoulders, effectively putting an end to our conversation.
We have already been at the top of the mountain for a few hours when the sun sets. We were allowed to play in the snow and the teachers built a fire. I was cold and tired from the long hike up so I joined the group of people gathered around the globe of heat. As soon as it becomes dark the temperature drops significantly and we all move inside the log cabins.
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After hours of activities and playing in the snow the next day we are all tired. A few people have fashioned sleds from large pieces of bark and are dragging their bags down the mountain over the 30cm layer of new snow. Our decent is a lot slower than our ascent. All of our legs have stopped working. They all wobble like strands of spaghetti as we walk down the mountain. I don’t seem to be cold although everyone else is still shivering. I even strip off a layer of clothing and add it to my overstuffed backpack. Someone tries to start another snow fight, but he is met with at least thirty to forty death glares and quickly decides otherwise. I am again walking with Eliena but we haven’t talked much. I have managed a few laughs from her but it’s still too soon after her parent’s deaths to be of much help. She gives a yelp beside me and I turn to find her lying on the soggy, cold ground.
“Ah, damn,” she says picking herself from the ground.
I laugh and help her brush away the soggy snow that is clinging to her clothes. There is not much I can do; her pants are now wet and cold. She does not laugh with me but instead swears under her breath. We keep walking down the trail and the snow continues to fall but more heavy now and there are small piles forming on our bags and shoulders.
Eliena slips again, but this time keeps sliding.
“ELIENA!” I yell in a scared tone.
She is still sliding through the snow. I can see that she is frantically trying to stop but the slope only makes her faster. I run after her through the trees and away from the group. Worried adults follow me closely as I chase her, but I am faster than them. Finally she stops herself from sliding by grabbing the thin trunk of a young tree. I reach her, only milliseconds after she stops and lean down to her asking if she is alright. She says she is ok but still looks shocked. The teachers reach us and ask if Eliena is ok, she again says yes and begins to stand. The teachers nod. The worry slips from their faces and they make their way back to the group, leaving us to follow behind them. Above us a thundering noise echoes down the mountain. It’s quiet at first, only a slight hum but it soon intensifies. We gaze up the mountain searching through the light fog. There is a large, bulky black helicopter thundering high above us. We are only a quarter of the way up the mountain but we can still feel the powerful gusts coming from its propellers. It flies low to the mountain and we all see the snow that it lifts. I grab Eliena and start running back to the group and the rock trail. It’s hard to move uphill in the deep snow and we aren’t fast enough. The teachers run ahead of us, their longer legs helping them fight through the deep snow and up the steep hill. They are more worried about the larger group than us and are hurrying back as fast as they can. From above, large amounts of snow start moving down the mountain. The helicopter seems oblivious to the scene playing out below it. The roads must be blocked from all the snow. It must be on its way to deliver supplies to the village. More snow cascades down the mountain towards us as it flies overhead. The helicopter finally notices our group and increases its altitude trying to stop the falling snow, but he reacts too late. The avalanche of snow acts as a bulldozer, pushing down small trees and shifting boulders. It’s not crazy large like you always see on movies and documentaries but it’s big enough to be a danger for us. Eliena trips again and I stop dragging her. I help her up and instead pull her behind a tree. It’s enormous and vastly round and tall. I could not wrap my arms around it even if I tried. I push myself hard up against it. Eliena presses against me tightly and we wait for the coming onslaught. I stare back through the forest at the other kids and teachers. The teachers have all made it back to the group. They have herded them under an overhanging in the rock about fifty metres off the trail. They are now peering through the trees looking for us. I am about to wave to them so they know that we are ok, but the snow reaches them before I have the chance. It runs over the rock they’re hiding under like a waterfall. It’s no longer white but instead tainted with dirt, trees and rocks. The snow emits a thunderous growl as it rages downwards. I pull myself back behind the trunk as the wave reaches us. Giant walls of snow storm past, leaving only a small gap before re-joining again. It closes over the sky and traps us in a bubble of air. It’s like being underwater, with the snow creeping closer and closer to us. I know that it will swallow us. I look to Eliena and realise that my face mirrors the terror on hers. Her eyes seem to say it all. We are going to die.
--------- AN.
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