reach it. If I could get it, Iâd swing it into him. Iâd knock him over and run.
âStay still, you brat,â he panted.
I fought harder, but he held on. I couldnât get away.
âNow come.â He walked me to my shoes and waited while I put them on. Then he walked me to the suitcase. âPick it up.â He held my shoulders and eased me down to it without letting go for a second.
He marched me back up the corridor to a door at the end. It opened onto an ordinary wooden staircase, not marble like the one in the lobby. We climbed up to the top floor, the third. It was slightly warmer up here, but the echoing silence was the same, and so was the ugly gray-green paint job on the walls.
Mr. Meltzer stopped in front of a door and opened it while holding on to me. Inside was a nurseâs office with a scale and a cot and the nurseâs desk, which had a telephone on it. The nurse said hello and smiled like there was something to smile about. She weighed me, listened to my heart, and looked in my ears. When she riffled through my hair for lice, she said, âI wish I had curls like yours.â She asked me if Iâd had the mumps, measles, chicken pox. I told her no, but Iâd had hoof-and-mouth disease when I was eight. She laughed, which surprised me. Mr. Meltzer didnât, which didnât.
She asked me if I had any brothers or sisters. I told her my brother had died in the same accident that killed Papa.
When she finished examining me, she told me not to put my clothes back on. âHow old are you? Nine?â
I said I was fourteen. Mr. Meltzer said I was eleven.
âSmall for your age.â She went to a closet and came back carrying a pile of clothes and a pair of low boots. âA new wardrobe.â
âI like the clothes I came in with.â
âPut on the uniform.â Mr. Meltzer folded my old things and put them in my suitcase.
âWe all wear uniforms here,â the nurse said.
Yeah, but her uniform showed she was a nurse. Mine would show I was an orphan.
The yellowy-white shirt was too big. I wondered if the kid whoâd had it before me was still alive.
The tie had gray-green and purple stripes. The gray knickers were too big. I had to buckle the belt on the last hole to keep them up. The gray jacket was too big and it had no pockets. The knickers and the jacket were stiff enough for a coat of armor. Scratchy too. The heels of the white socks came up to my ankles. Only the shoes fit.
âOrphans may come and orphans may go,â the nurse said, âbut their clothing lasts forever.â
Mr. Meltzer picked up my suitcase and we left the nurseâs office. In the hall, he said he was going to take me to meet Superintendent Bloom, who was in charge of the whole orphanage. âCall him sir . Heâs not as nice as I am.â
Back downstairs, Mr. Meltzer knocked on the first door to the right of the lobby.
âCome in,â a rumbly voice called.
It was warm in his office. Not hot. Just right.
Mr. Bloom was huge. His chest and head loomed over his desk like the Hebrew Home for Boys loomed over Broadway. He pushed back his chair and stood up. Scraping against the wall on the way, he walked around to my side of his desk and bent down to inspect me through thick spectacles. He smiled, showing a million teeth.
He looked up at Mr. Meltzer, who was leaning against the door so I couldnât get out. âWhatâs his name?â
He could have asked me. Didnât he think I knew my own name?
âDave Caros,â Mr. Meltzer said.
âDave, you have my sympathy for your loss.â
What did I lose? Oh. Papa.
âBut no loss comes without gain. I like my boys to think of me as their papa.â Mr. Bloomâs smile disappeared. âA stern papa, because all good fathers are stern.â
Iâd never think of this gorilla as my papa.
âLook around this office,â Mr. Bloom went on. âTake a good