Girl in Reverse (9781442497368) by Barbara Stuber

Sister Immaculata and me and Joy.”
    Joy jumps out of my arms and curls up on the bottom stair. Sister Evangeline sits at the desk and I sit beside Joy. The entry hall fills with old sounds—clattering shoes, recited prayers, the dinnertime bell, laughter.
    â€œI remember Nancy the best,” I say. “She was an orphan too, a fifth grader. I was her ‘charge.’ ” I picture Nancy’s smiling mouth full of teeth too big for her face.
    â€œYes, she took good care of you.”
    I glance into the visitors’ room, with the same doilies and dish of stale butterscotch candy.
    â€œIs your school out?” Evangeline asks.
    â€œNo. I called in sick but . . .”
    Sister Evangeline’s eyebrows shoot up. “We nuns are familiar with managing secrets.”
    â€œI was wondering how long I lived here.”
    â€œAbout a year, Lily.”
    â€œIs that long for an orphan?”
    â€œNo. Some children aren’t ever placed.” She looks off.
    I stare ahead and say the lines I have rehearsed. “I found a box of my belongings from my birth mother, Lien Loo, in the attic at home and I wondered if there might be anything else?”
    Sister Evangeline sniffs, blinks, reblinks, and stands up.She seems trapped by her wimple, unable to scratch her head or comb her fingers through her hair or even tug her collar. She folds her hands—grips them, actually. I remember her strong hands—the look of them, not the touch.
    â€œOr if there’s something I should know. The pictures in the box she left for me are awful. . . .” I cover my face. Tears slide between my fingers and onto my coat.
    I hear Sister Evangeline sigh, but she doesn’t say a word.
    â€œShe was definitely Chinese, wasn’t she, my birth mother?” I say.
    â€œYes, and a very determined young woman, as I recall.”
    â€œSh—she wasn’t married, right?”
    â€œThat is correct, Lillian.”
    â€œSo she was alone when she brought me here?”
    Sister stands, leans on her fists on the desk. “Yes. And she was very much alone when she left.”
    Evangeline’s nun-ness verifies Gone Mom’s realness somehow. The strong, upswept pillar of Sister Evangeline would not lie. She locks her attention on her desk calendar, clears her throat. “I will check regarding your additional belongings. Come back a week from today, after school. Policy dictates that all belongings go with the child, but occasionally . . .” Something ripples behind her words. She grimaces and nods slightly as if concluding a conversation with herself and says, “A complicated past is best understood a bit at a time.”

Chapter 13
    On Saturday morning I walk across the track and practice field with no plan, pulled by the lights in the art room. Hopefully Mr. Howard is here. He sees me out the window and waves, pushes the door open. “Did you forget something else?” he asks.
    â€œUh . . . yeah.” I freeze. Elliot James is here too! He glances up from his drawing table. They’ve got a bakery box of doughnuts. The steam from their coffee thermoses fills the air.
    â€œMiss Firestone, in case you hadn’t noticed, Elliot does not sleep. He is a drawing machine.” Mr. Howard sweeps his hand, grinning. “The world doesn’t grow trees fast enough to keep him supplied in paper.” Mr. Howard brushes crumbs into his dustpan. “He’s gonna be real famous—actually he already is.”
    â€œOkay, enough of the commercial,” Elliot says.
    â€œI guess I’m a sweeping machine,” says Mr. Howard, “and of course my bucket and broom are gonna be real famous someday too.” They look over at me, as if I should grab a doughnut and join the game, tell what kind of machine I am, how I’ll be famous someday. But I stand there like a toadstool with nothing but orphan cat hair stuck to my