Anthony clicked the clasp on his suitcase shut.

"Tony," Sister Maggie tapped on the already open door. "The bus will be here soon. Do you need any help?"

"Nah. All my stuff's right here." He swung the suitcase around in a circle. "It's weird. I'm taking my whole life and just... leaving."

"You know you can come back whenever you need to. If that Captain Fell turns out to be... rude or nasty, you catch the next bus back, no matter how early it is. I'll make sure we leave your room open all the way until September. You'll always have a place here."

Anthony stooped to let himself be pulled into a hug. His heart twisted. He understood what Reverend Mother meant. He didn't really fit here anymore. But the question remained: where did he fit?

"Let's get going," Sister Maggie said, trying to hide her sniff by clearing her throat right after. Anthony knew she was trying to covertly wipe tears from the corners of her eyes the entire way down the stairs.

"Don't cry, Maggie, if you cry then I'll cry. And if we're crying, then Nina eventually starts crying. You know how it goes."

"Oh, I'm fine. We'll see you in September, love."

"Right. You'll see me in September."

"Here he is," Sister Michael called from the window. Anthony heard the screech of brakes. Here was the bus. Here went the rest of the day, the rest of his life.

"Goodbye Maggie. Bye, Michael. Tell everyone I'll miss them, tell them I said goodbye," Anthony squared his shoulders, checked his ticket one last time, and headed for the bus.

"Goodbye, Anthony!" Sister Maggie was openly crying now. Sister Nina had joined the group and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Goodness," Sister Michael muttered. "Here, wipe your eyes." She reached into her dress pocket for her handkerchief and came into contact with something wet and slimy. The frog leapt up her sleeve, and before she knew it, she was screeching and waving her arm around to dislodge it. As the bus pulled away and the frog was finally flung to the ground, she heard Anthony laughing. Maggie, shocked out of her tears, looked from a fuming "That little-!"


Anthony watched the scenery fly by out the bus window; his forehead leaned against the cool pane of glass.

There really wasn't much in the suitcase. Reverend Mother had given him the letter that was left with him when he was a baby, it was tucked inside his journal. Other than that, his skirt with the grass stains scrubbed out was folded next to two other shirts, all of his socks which had been mended time and time again, and his underwear was stuffed at the bottom near his hairbrush. Everything else he was either wearing- his trousers, a sweater, and a wide-brimmed hat- or he would have new at the Fell home.

What would Captain Fell's house be like? What kind of houses did retired officers from the Imperial Navy live in? Would it be big? Well, it probably has to be big to fit all seven of his kids and his other staff in it. Would it be white on the outside, or blue? Anthony was always partial to shades of grey, but perhaps retired officers weren't big fans of grey.

The road began to look unfamiliar as the bus trundled away to places Anthony had never been before.

He couldn't help but grow queasy at the memory of another time he had left the abbey. He had been young, around six or seven, and the Reverend Mother had tried to find a proper family to take him in. He was sent off one morning, eyes blurred with tears for having to leave such kind women, but a spring in his step because Reverend Mother had said these new people would be his mother and father.

He barely lasted three days there.

Now, years later, Anthony couldn't remember all the reasons that his younger self had been a disappointment to that family. He might have been a disappointment to the family he originally came from too. The letter didn't go into much detail. It was only a few short sentences requesting that the baby 'Anthonee' be kept safe.

The nuns had changed the spelling of his name. When he was twelve, Anthony picked out his own last name. Sister Michael had frowned. He'd only wanted something more to write when he signed his name. It was important, he'd argued. Names are signed everywhere: writing assignments, math homework, and important documents for grown-up things like enlisting in the army, buying a house, or getting married. He needed a last name to sign on the marriage certificate.

"If you did get married," Sister Michael said, "couldn't you just take the other last name? You wouldn't have to worry about your own anymore."

"What if he wants mine? It's pretty cool. His could be lame. And since mine is better, then I could marry him and just lend it, and I won't have to worry about a having stupid last name. Or the kids having stupid last names."

That's how he imagined his life going since he could start imagining it. He would meet a man who swept him off his feet (or he could do the sweeping, he wasn't picky), and they would get married and have kids together. When he learned how babies were made, he resolved that he would find some that were left on doorsteps like he was. And they could keep those ones.

He had confessed these childish plans mostly to Reverend Mother or Sister Maggie. Maggie was all for the wedding. "You can have it here when the day comes. In the chapel, with the sun coming in through the stained-glass windows..."

Reverend Mother didn't say much. She only smiled and nodded.

Maybe this is why she's sending me away, Anthony thought, coming to a sudden realization. To a house with seven kids. For practice.

Yes, that would make sense. He would want to be ready to take care of kids for when he had ones of his own. And after managing seven, any number less than that would seem like a piece of cake.

"A piece of cake," Anthony muttered. "I'll stop at four. A nice, even number, four. Maybe when those ones grow up I'd take more in, but seven seems excessive, especially at one time."

He wouldn't return them back where they came from either, he thought, a familiar pang in his chest. Armed with the abundance of knowledge he would doubtlessly gain from working with the seven Fell children, he would be the best parent.

Firm, but kind. No point in being mean to kids, they're little. They'll look up to me and mind me, and I'll teach them what they need to know.

With another louder squeal of brakes, the bus came to a halt at Anthony's stop. He stood, grabbing the handle of his suitcase with a steadier hand this time. He squared his shoulders and headed down the dirt road to the address that Nina had written on his arm.

I just have to have enough confidence. Reverend Mother says first impressions are everything.

And I will not seem scared. Not in front of the captain, and not in front of the children who are supposed to respect me.