AND MY PATH LED ME TO YOU
Chapter 2: "Lonely Days"
A Neo-Sailor Moon fanfic
By Bill K.
"There's Hawaii!" gasped Jun, peering out the port of the Intercontinental Shuttle.
"How can you tell? We're six miles up," Cere challenged. "All I see are clouds."
"Because I know my geography," Jun retorted. "And the clouds part for me."
Cere wrinkled her nose at Jun, then glanced over at Palla-Palla. The teen was still engaged in relating her time at Tanto Quatro Pai and both Usa and Hotaru were listening enraptured. Cere settled back and placed the music transmitter disks on her temples. She knew the stories Palla-Palla was telling.
She just hoped the memories wouldn't upset Palla-Palla even more.
Palla-Palla woke up and looked around. Immediately her anxiety rose because she wasn't in her familiar bedroom in the apartment she lived in with her mother. The girl lay on the bunk, terrified, for several minutes before she remembered that this was the dormitory in the orphanage. She looked around. All of the other children were gone. And her mother was still missing. Helpless to know what to do, the girl just lay in the bunk with her knees pulled to her chest.
After an undetermined time, Sister Arcia poked her head in the room. Her stern gaze focused on the girl.
"What are you doing still in bed?" Arcia demanded. "Didn't I tell you that breakfast was at eight?"
"Maybe. Palla-Palla doesn't remember," the young girl offered.
"Well, I did," Arcia stated. Then she waited. Palla-Palla didn't move. "Well?"
"P-Palla-Palla doesn't know what to do."
"The same thing you do at home in the morning," Arcia replied. "You get up, take a shower and clean yourself, comb your hair, get dressed and come to breakfast." She noticed Palla-Palla's growing confusion. "What is it now?"
"Mommy used to do all that stuff for Palla-Palla," the girl whimpered.
"Maria, you owe me for this," Arcia sighed. "Very well. Come along. I'll show you what to do."
Palla-Palla timidly climbed out of the bunk and came over to the nun. Arcia reached down and clasped the girl's hand.
"And pay very close attention to what we do," Arcia added sternly. "Because tomorrow you're going to do it by yourself."
"But Palla-Palla's not sure she can!" Palla-Palla wailed.
"We're never sure until we try," Arcia replied. "Success grows from the soil of perseverance."
"P-pers . . .what?" Palla-Palla asked.
"We keep trying until we do it," Arcia told her.
As they headed, hand in hand, to the bathroom, Palla-Palla looked up at the nun. She sensed the child staring and looked down at her.
"Your brother will get better," Palla-Palla said suddenly. Sister Arcia stopped and stared down at the blue-haired girl.
"What did you say?" she gasped. "How do you know about that?"
"Did Palla-Palla's mommy come for her?" Palla-Palla asked hopefully.
"What do you know of my brother?" Arcia demanded.
"Huh?" Palla-Palla replied. Her vacant stare, much like a child younger than six, made Arcia wonder if she'd heard the girl right. They continued on to the bathroom.
But when they were done, Sister Arcia intended to place a call to the hospice where her brother was staying.
By the time Palla-Palla and Sister Arcia had emerged from the bathroom and gone to the dining area, everyone else was finishing up. At Arcia's direction, the cafeteria attendant dished out a meal onto Palla-Palla's tray: oatmeal, sliced fruit, some bread and milk. The nun escorted her over to a table. Palla-Palla sat down and stared at the meal.
"Eat," Arcia prodded her.
"Mommy always made Palla-Palla a bowl of Sugar Bombs," Palla-Palla pouted.
"This is far more nutritious than Sugar Bombs," Arcia replied.
"Can't Palla-Palla have Sugar Bombs?"
"No."
"'Can't Palla-Palla have Sugar Bombs?'" Belinda mocked as she left. The three girls with her all giggled derisively.
"Palla-Palla," Sister Arcia began, trying to stay calm. "We do the best we can to provide nutritious meals to all of the children in our charge on the limited funds we have. This may not appeal to your sweet tooth, but it's good for you. And it would be rude to refuse it." She leaned in for emphasis. "Unless you prefer to go hungry."
Palla-Palla's lower lip curled into a pout. But she picked up a slice of fruit and slipped it into her mouth.
"Use a fork, please," Arcia said, handing the utensil to her. "When you're finished, take your tray over there so it can be washed. And don't dawdle. You have a test at nine a.m. to see where you need to be placed in school."
"What's school?" Palla-Palla asked, a clump of oatmeal in her mouth.
"Well I guess that answers that question," Arcia sighed. "Now don't talk with your mouth full. Be in room 12 at nine a.m., and you mustn't be late."
Sister Arcia rose from the table and headed out, leaving Palla-Palla alone in the cafeteria, save for the kitchen workers impatiently waiting for her to finish. The girl tried to figure out how to use the fork, couldn't, and picked up another slice of fruit with her fingers. A sense of isolation began to develop in her. She picked up the glass of milk with both hands and drank some. As she put it down, the sound of the glass against the table seemed to echo in the room.
"Palla-Palla wishes Mommy would come," she thought, bringing another scoop of the bland oatmeal to her mouth. "And Palla-Palla wonders what 'dawdle' means."
"That's so sad, Palla-Palla," Hotaru observed. "You must have been so lonely there."
"Palla-Palla doesn't remember," Palla-Palla mumbled. "She just remembers that she didn't like it there at first."
"I understand," Hotaru said. "Things weren't very pleasant for me in school back then, either. Not a lot of kids wanted to be around me."
"It was the opposite for me," Usa remarked. "Everybody wanted to be near me, to see me, to touch me, to take their picture with me. It got so bad that Pop just cut me off from everybody. I know he did it to protect me, because even now there are some people who cross the line - - and that's on top of the whole 'Black Moon' thing - - but it made for some lonely times until Momo showed up."
"Did it ever get better?" Hotaru asked Palla-Palla.
"Yes, Hotaru-Chan, it did," Palla-Palla nodded. "Palla-Palla met Father Melendez-Sir."
Sister Arcia turned around and found Palla-Palla standing in the doorway.
"How long have you been there?" Arcia asked.
"Since nine a.m.," Palla-Palla told her. "Palla-Palla has to come to room 12 at nine a.m. She mustn't be late."
"Well you're punctual, at least," Arcia concluded. "Sit down at that desk, in front of that computer station."
Reluctantly Palla-Palla complied. She looked at the computer in front of her with doubt and suspicion. In her short life she'd seen computer stations, but she'd never used one and they, like a lot of things in the world that were unknown to her, intimidated her. As she stared, a man swept in.
"Father Melendez," Arcia nodded, "this is the girl I was telling you about."
"Ah, Athene," Melendez smiled, kneeling next to her seat so he could be eye to eye with her. Palla-Palla glanced at him, then went back to staring at the computer monitor.
"She answers to Palla-Palla, Father," Arcia informed him.
"Oh. My apologies, Palla-Palla. I hope I haven't offended you."
And he smiled again. Palla-Palla looked at him. He seemed to smile easily. Melendez was forty-seven with thick black hair, caramel skin and an attractive face beginning to line with age and stress. He was of medium build, unremarkable save for his face. Melendez had kind eyes and a warm smile. Palla-Palla continued to look. She had known very few males in her short life and she didn't know what to make of this one.
"I am Father Melendez," he told her, then gestured to the computer. "This device will tell us how much you already know. That will tell us what we need to teach you while you're with us and what you already have."
"But," she began, "Palla-Palla isn't going to be here very long. Just until her mommy picks her up."
Melendez tried to hide it, but his eyes grew sad. "Well, while you're here, we may as well use the time to help you learn what you'll need to know in life. There's no sense in wasting the opportunity."
He handed Palla-Palla a microphone.
"Since I doubt you know how to type, we'll use this," he said. "The computer will ask you some questions. Answer them to the best of your ability by speaking into this. Now don't be afraid. There's no grade on this and you can't fail. We just want to find out how much you know. Do you understand?"
"Palla-Palla thinks so," the girl mumbled.
Melendez smiled again, then pressed a crystal stud on the computer. Symbols appeared on the screen. Palla-Palla frowned at them.
"You don't know how to read yet?" Melendez asked. Palla-Palla shook her head. "It's all right. That's something we need to teach you." He pressed another crystal on the computer.
"What is this letter?" the computer asked, flashing an 'A' on the screen. Palla-Palla's eyes grew to saucers.
"Just speak into the microphone," Melendez encouraged her. "If you don't know, say so."
"Palla-Palla doesn't know," she mumbled. The screen shifted to the digit one.
"What is this number?" the computer asked in a calm, feminine voice.
"That's a one," Palla-Palla replied confidently.
"What is this number?"
"That's two!"
"What is one plus one?"
"Two!" Palla-Palla proclaimed. She looked over at Father Melendez. He gave her an approving nod and she beamed back at him.
"Well, we have to remember that the child is only six," Arcia commented as they reviewed the test results. "And from what she said, the girl has never been to school. The parent probably neglected such things." She scowled. "Just like she neglected teaching the girl basic hygiene and manners."
"No, it goes beyond that," Father Melendez surmised. "If you pair the test scores with the neurological scans from Dr. Valdez, it's clear this girl suffers from severe organic mental retardation. I can't imagine what caused it."
"So she's never going to get better?"
"I think we can teach her some things. She already has a savant-level facility with numbers. And she can probably learn some social skills with patience. But it will take work just to bring her up to the level of a normal six year old, and I don't think she'll progress beyond that."
"Then I should call the state hospital," Arcia declared.
"You would turn her out? That's not a very Christian thought, Sister," Melendez gently chided her.
"We're not equipped to deal with someone like her," Arcia countered. "The state hospital is."
"And what if the mother should turn up looking for her?"
"The mother is never coming back. She was probably a child herself, saddled with a special needs child she couldn't cope with. She might have even been an addict. That would explain the neglect. This girl is a ward of the state until she's of age. It'll either be here or at the state hospital." She looked directly at Melendez. "Don't condemn me for speaking the truth."
"It's not much of a life," Melendez mused. "Growing up in sterile conditions amid addicts and people with mental conditions. There aren't many children at the state hospital."
"They can help her," Arcia maintained.
"So can we," Melendez argued. "There is a power in a loving family setting, Sister. And there is power in kindness. It's a power that can heal, a power that can grow life from fallow soil. Jesus knew this. Palla-Palla will never grow up to go to college. She will never make her mark in the annals of academics. But with our help, she can grow up to be happy and through that happiness spread God's love to whomever she meets."
"That's easy for you to say," Arcia sighed. "You're not the one who is going to be getting her up for breakfast every morning."
"I take full responsibility for her," Melendez smiled. "And whenever you need my help with her, you need only ask."
While the Father and Sister were discussing her case, Palla-Palla fidgeted impatiently on a chair outside of the office. As she waited, Palla-Palla could sense that Sister Arcia didn't like her. She had always had a strange sense about who did and didn't like her. Father Melendez, on the other hand, was very nice. He was as nice as the clerk in the store who came up to her and asked about her mother.
Thinking about her mother brought another pang to the girl. Though time was something she didn't understand, she knew enough to know that her mother had been gone a long time; longer than the other times she'd gone off. Sometime recently, though she didn't know when, her mother would act strange for periods. She would be sleeping with her eyes opened for periods and Palla-Palla could see her mother's strange dreams in her head.
"Look, it's the 'Low Achiever'," snorted one of the girls as several passed by. Belinda was one of them. They stopped and looked down at Palla-Palla, and she could sense their malice. "Is that why you can't talk right?"
Palla-Palla didn't answer. She just looked at them suspiciously.
"And where did you get a goofy name like that?" another girl asked. The girls were a mix of ages, Belinda the youngest at ten and the oldest thirteen. "It's doesn't sound Portuguese." They waited for her to answer. "Do - you - speak?"
Still the girl wouldn't respond.
"Why aren't you doing chores?" Belinda asked. "We all have responsibilities in Quatro Pai."
"Sister Arcia-Ma'am told Palla-Palla to sit and wait for her," Palla-Palla responded. "What are chores?"
"God, she is stupid!" snickered one of the girls. The others giggled, except for Belinda. She just glared.
"I don't know why they're trying to place her," another chuckled. "Start her at the bottom, with all the other Low Achievers."
"Why don't you like Palla-Palla?" she asked, the hurt creeping out in her voice.
"Because you're stupid!" sneered one of the girls.
"And homely," added another.
Palla-Palla didn't acknowledge them. She focused squarely on Belinda.
"Because," Belinda sputtered, "you get special treatment! You get my bunk! You don't have to show up for breakfast on time! You don't have to go to school! You don't have to do chores! And all because you're too stupid to understand!"
"That's mean!" Palla-Palla wailed, tears bubbling at her eyelids. Something snapped in Belinda and she slapped Palla-Palla across the face. The girls with her were initially shocked, but quickly began laughing.
Then the door opened and Sister Arcia emerged.
"Here now!" she roared. "What's going on here?"
"S-She hit Palla-Palla!" the blue-haired girl cried. The red welt on her cheek lent credence to her charge. Sister Arcia turned on the girls and they instantly shrank back.
"Have you girls finished your assignments?" she snarled. "If so, I can find other things for you to do!" The four girls started to hurry off. "Belinda! Stay!"
Belinda stopped in her tracks and turned back to Sister Arcia anxiously.
"Extend your hand," Arcia said.
"But Sister . . .!" Belinda began.
"Extend - your - hand!"
Reluctantly Belinda raised her right arm, baring the back of her hand to the nun. As if by magic, from under her habit Sister Arcia produced a ruler and viciously struck the hand. Belinda pulled it back, whimpering. Palla-Palla winced at the blow. Even Father Melendez, watching from the doorway, grimaced.
"You will immediately go to the Confessional and confess your sins," Arcia commanded. "You will do all penance given to you. And you will REFLECT on what brought you to this point in the first place. Go."
Quickly Belinda scurried off. Sister Arcia turned to Palla-Palla and for a moment the girl feared she was next. But the woman touched Palla-Palla's shoulder gently.
"She was mad at Palla-Palla because Palla-Palla didn't do chores," Palla-Palla explained. "What are chores?"
"It's work we do to maintain our home," Arcia smiled, her demeanor radically different than a few moments ago, "and to keep the devil at bay." She extended her hand. "Come. Let me show you what they are so we can see if you're good at any of them."
Palla-Palla glanced over at Father Melendez. He smiled and nodded. Palla-Palla took the extended hand, scooted off the seat and allowed Arcia to lead her away.
Continued in Chapter 3