Free The Best Day of My Life by Deborah Ellis Page A

stared down at me. I was surrounded by women with scars and women without noses. A woman with no fingers on her hands was shaking me awake, touching me with those stumps.
    I jumped off the bed and pushed my way through the women.
    â€˜You’re not going to get me!’
    â€˜She’s afraid,’ I heard.
    â€˜Let her go,’ someone else said. ‘She’s clearly trouble.’
    â€˜She’s a child!’
    I broke through and ran out the door. I ran down the stairs, slamming into people who were on their way up.
    â€˜Valli, what’s wrong? What is it?’
    Dr. Indra had me by the shoulders. I tried to squirm away, but her hands were strong.
    â€˜Talk to me.’
    â€˜This is a place for monsters! They’ll eat me! They’ll tear me apart!’
    â€˜This is a hospital for people who are recovering from illness. Nothing more.’ Her voice was calm but stern.
    â€˜They’re all monsters up there!’
    â€˜Really, Valli? Do you really believe that?’ the doctor asked. ‘You are a human being with a thinking brain. Do you really believe these people are monsters?’
    There was too much going on. I was being spoken to in a way I didn’t recognize. I was afraid and at the same time I felt a little foolish.
    Someone thought I could think. I didn’t know what that meant.
    Yes, I did. And it frightened me more than the people with the missing fingers.
    Dr. Indra let go of my shoulders. She was leaving it up to me.
    After making such a fuss, I didn’t see how I could back down. Even though I wanted to.
    So I looked straight ahead and walked quickly through the waiting room, out of the hospital and back into the street.

9
    The Dead Man
    â€˜I s he dead?’
    Bharati’s wide eyes went from the man on the ticket seller’s counter to me.
    â€˜Yes,’ I said. ‘Dead.’
    She whimpered a little and took a half-step behind me.
    In the weeks since I had run away from the hospital, all the niceness had drained out of me. I was like a kid I didn’t even know. I wanted to kick at street dogs, steal from blind beggars and rip things from walls.
    And be mean to clingy little girls like Bharati.
    I was back living at Sealdah Railway Station, where I had stayed off and on in the months I had been in Kolkata. Many children lived there. It had dark corners for sleeping, people to beg from and bits of food that got dropped to the floor by rushing travelers. The railway station was a good place to borrow. A lot of people moved through it, dropping things and leaving their bags open and their backs turned.
    Bharati was little and new to the station. She wasn’t used to looking after herself.
    When I first saw her, she was with her older brother, who brought her food he had worked for and told her to stay put so he would know where to find her.
    But he had taken up with the boy-pack. Little sisters were not welcome there.
    Her brother was about the same age as me.
    I didn’t mind Bharati sticking with me sometimes. She was a polite little girl who believed everything I said. But I didn’t want her getting any ideas that she could stay with me forever.
    â€˜Who put him up there?’ she asked, staring at the man. He was flat on his back on the ticket counter, covered head to toe with a blanket.
    I had seen it all over and over. I had spent a lot of time at this train station.
    â€˜He put himself up there,’ I said. ‘And he covered himself up like that, too.’
    â€˜Why did he do that?’ Bharati asked.
    â€˜You’re full of questions,’ I said.
    â€˜I want to know.’
    â€˜Because he knew he was going to die, so he climbed up there so his body wouldn’t get wet when the floor washers came.’
    The floors got washed in the early hours of the day. Anybody who was not awake got soaked by the cold water. Morning in December in Kolkata was cold enough without that. I always made sure I woke up