Al Calavicci struggles with an impossible choice – liberty or loyalty.

BOTH OR NONE – Part Seven

Al lay face down on his bed, the bed that was going to be his and Stork's for a long, long time. He had cried until he couldn't cry any more and now he just felt tired and wretched. He wanted a family, but it wouldn't be a family at all without Trudy. He loved Uncle Jack, but he loved Trudy more. So he was going to have to stay here, in the lousy orphanage, until he was eighteen. That was forever. Six and a half years was forever.

He heard familiar footsteps behind him. Sister Agnes. He felt a thrill of fear. Sister did not approve of shouting, she did not approve of disrespectful treatment of one's elders. She was going to punish him. Maybe she was going to send him to Reform School.

"Albert," Sister said in the cool, formal voice she always used when she wasn't especially angry. "Sit up."

Al obeyed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. His eyes felt puffy and red, his head was like a bubble of air. He looked at Sister. She had her hands inside the sleeves of her habit. She didn't look angry, but that was probably just a trick.

"Go ahead and punish me," he said defiantly. "But I'm not gonna apologize. She shouldn'ta said that about Trudy."

"And you should not have shouted," Sister said. "Your aunt and uncle have left. I am afraid they may be reconsidering their choice to adopt you."

"I'm not gonna let them adopt me!" Al snapped ferociously. "Not without Trudy."

Sister didn't say anything for a long time. Then she slowly drew her hands out of her sleeves. "Try these on," she said. "Perhaps they will not hurt your feet."

In her hands she held a pair of shoes from a charity hamper. They were scuffed and worn, the leather fraying to a fine fuzz around the tops. But they had new black shoe strings, and Al could tell just by looking at them that they were a better fit than the ones on his feet. He took them and tried them on.

"Walk around the room," Sister Agnes instructed. Al obeyed. "How do they fit?"

"They're better," Al said. "They don't rub my ankles."

"Good. We can't have you getting blisters," Sister said dispassionately.

Al bent down and picked up the other pair, handing them to her. "Thank you, Sister," he said politely. He was too worn out for anything but good manners.

Sister Agnes did not take the shoes. "Put them in your cupboard," she instructed. "They will fit you in a few months."

Al stared at her, not sure he had heard her right. Nobody had two pairs of shoes. Nobody. It was an extravagance. A whole pair of shoes just to sit in the cupboard and wait for his feet to grow into them… he couldn't believe it. That didn't mean he was going to question it, though. He did as Sister Agnes instructed.

"Now," Sister said. "Go and wash your face, then you may go outside and enjoy the rest of recess. Your classmates are out there now."