Leaves

by Sophia Matano

Light streamed into the tiny room occupied by Judith. Her eyes immediately flickered open. This light wasn’t the harsh white winter light that greeted her each morning. Standing on top of her dresser, she got on tiptoe to look through her small window near the ceiling. Where was her beloved snow? Her comforting white blanket had disappeared while she slept and now the grass was free to grow. A single vine slipped through a crack in the window, unraveling and curling itself over and over again, dancing for Judith. All of a sudden a deafening roar erupted from the vine. Petals of red, orange and yellow exploded out of it in a fiery burst. Judith grabbed the blossom and yanked it toward her. The vine pulled back, the blossom grunting in restraint.

Judith fell backward off her dresser, the severed blossom in hand. Quickly, deliberately, Judith shredded the fading petals and crushed its still body with her small hands. She gathered the remains and placed them on the windowsill as a warning to all green life. The grass and other plants around her window shrieked in terror and uprooted themselves to reside in a new area far away from the little girl.

She hopped down from her dresser and ran out to the hall, into the arms of Ms. Price.

“It’s spring! It’s spring! Wake up everybody!” Isaac, a boy in the boarding school cried, pounding on the doors of the other children’s rooms.

Ms. Price stroked Judith’s head, which was pressed below her bosom. Judith’s arms wrapped tightly around Ms. Price’s waist as the young boy threw open the front doors. They were hit with a blast of warmth and Judith let out a whimper. The other children ran outside to play in the grass, rejoicing the return of spring.

“Isaac! Shut the door!” Ms. Price ordered, holding Judith close. Isaac gave a harsh look at Ms. Price, but his features softened when he saw Judith. Her fear was tangible as she shivered in the sunlight. He pushed the front door as hard as he could. Only when the slam’s echo had faded did Judith loosen her hold on Ms. Price.

* * *

“Come on Judith!” He tugged on her arm. “We’re gonna be so late and Ms. Price is going to be so mad and Mr. Brown isn’t gonna take us to the park with everybody and I told David I would go on the tire swing with him so we gotta go right now!”

Judith took a last glance at the leaves on the tree, changing colors before her eyes.

He tugged again, but this time Judith didn’t resist. With Isaac’s hand on her elbow they ran back to the orphanage. From a distance they saw Ms. Price in the doorway, and hung their heads as they approached her.

“I’m surprised, Isaac. You’re never late to Sunday mass. You know how much the Sisters like you, and when they asked for you I had to tell them you weren’t here. Nearly broke their hearts, you did!” Ms. Price scolded.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Isaac. Judith didn’t say anything.

“Alright, go in there and apologize to the Sisters,” Ms. Price said as she shifted out of the doorframe to let Isaac through. “But Isaac, wash your face first. You’re filthy.”

“What about Judith?” Isaac looked up into Ms. Price’s face quickly, brow furrowed.

“I’d expect this from her,” she sniffed and waddled back inside.

Isaac and Judith waited a moment, neither moving nor speaking. Then Judith burst into a fit of giggles. She put a hand over her mouth to muffle it, but it was no good.

“Stop laughing,” Isaac ordered. But she wouldn’t.

Judith can never do any wrong, Judith can’t get ever in trouble, Judith was why he was late, why they were both late. Only Isaac had to take the blame. Isaac’s tiny hands clenched into fists, and he swung one of them at Judith, striking her on the side of the face. It wasn’t enough to knock her over, but it was certainly enough to stifle her giggles.

The children looked at each other, both wanting to scream at the other but neither did and knew they never would. Isaac snuck inside quietly. It just wasn’t fair.

Judith heard the faucet from the sink turn on and then off again. The sound of children’s voices singing led by one of the visiting nuns followed.

Ms. Price came outside, rubbing flour off her hands on her apron. “Go back out and play, Judith,” she smiled. “It’s alright, you can go play by yourself.”

So Judith ran. She ran to her tree whose beautiful leaves she had admired. The green leaves swayed, greeting her. She rubbed her sore face and flung herself onto the great roots of the tree. How sturdy it was.

The leaves rubbed together like the strings in a symphony. A calm melody floated down from the lush green top of the tree, drying Judith’s wet eyes. It was so soothing. Why had she been crying before? Wasn’t her face sore a few minutes ago? She couldn’t recall, it didn’t hurt anymore. But she could have sworn she was upset about something.

In the midst of her confusion, the song grew faster, harsher and became maniacal. The leaves flashed different shades: yellows, reds and greens. They ripped themselves from their branches and swirled above. Judith lifted her head just in time to see the flashing leaves engulf her.

* * *

“Let’s go,” Ms Price said to Judith. “Let’s make some breakfast.” The two walked slowly to the kitchen, hand-in-hand. Ms. Price looked down at the little dark-haired head bobbing next to her. She never used to bob, she used to skip. She and Isaac would all the time, linking arms and laughing at nothing. Come to think of it, she and Isaac don’t even smile at each other anymore.

They entered the cold stone kitchen. The wooden breadbox held a fresh loaf of bread. Ms. Price led Judith toward it, her little fingers wrapped in Ms. Price’s large, rough hands, which matched the rest of her well. She was a somewhat overweight woman, which was surprising considering the amount of exercise she got while chasing around all the small children in the school. She was always covered in something, be it flour, mud, sawdust or feathers from the chickens in their coop outside. Every morning she would go around to the school’s garden where the chicken coop was held. Slowly, she would open the door as to not disturb the hens, and sneak stealthily inside. This was difficult in the cold winters, as the lock would be coated in a thin layer of frost. Gathering the eggs proved even more difficult, since Ms. Price’s fingers would go numb from the cold, and even though it was rather warm in the coop, she would often drop the eggs as she went to place them in her basket. She hadn’t dropped any that morning.

Judith plopped down on the floor and leaned against the cupboard. She rubbed her running nose with the back of her hand.

“Here,” Ms. Price said as she took a small white handkerchief out of her apron pocket. “Use this.” She handed it out to Judith. Judith ignored it, and blew her nose on the hem of her nightgown. Ms. Price grabbed the girl by the chin and put the handkerchief to her nose. “Blow,” she ordered. Judith blew her nose with an exasperated look. She pushed Ms. Price’s hand away and scooted over a few feet.

“That’s fine,” Ms. Price said. “If you don’t want to be nice, you can go outside and play with the other children.”

Judith whipped her head around to look at Ms. Price, her eyes full of terror.

“I didn’t mean it, Judy. Don’t worry,” Ms. Price said while slicing the fresh bread from the breadbox. Ms. Price began the process of making toast while Judith tapped a rhythm with her hands on the stone floor. “But last year you were always out there playing with Isaac and the others.”

Mr. Brown entered the school from the back entrance, where Judith and Isaac had when they got in trouble a year ago. He came bounding into the kitchen, puffy and sweating.

“Agatha!” he roared, knocking into the table as he ran inside. “Why are all of the children running about outside?”

“Oh, hello Emelius!” she cried without turning around.

“They’re outside!” he repeated. “Unsupervised!”

“It’s fine,” Ms. Price laughed, “they’re just playing. It’s springtime! They haven’t been able to play in the grass for months.”

“Fine! Fine! Then you can explain to their parents how one of them fell down and hit their head and they just lay bleeding there because no one was there to help them.”

“That isn’t going to happen,” Ms. Price said coolly.

“Oowaeebnsee,” Mr. Brown said with a mouthful of toast he had stolen off the plate Ms. Price had prepared.

“Emelius!” Ms. Price glared at him accusingly. “Alright, then you can explain to the children’s parents why they’ve all gone hungry from no breakfast!” Ms. Price gestured to Judith on the floor and went back to preparing the food.

“Oh, Judy!” he exclaimed, “I didn’t see you down there!” he danced over to her cheerily, picked her up, and cradled her in his arms. “You’re getting so big, I don’t think I’m going to be able to do this for very long,” he grunted and set her down. “Why don’t you change out of that nightgown, eh?”

She nodded and walked back to her little dark room.

“Poor girl,” Mr. Brown sighed as he stole another piece of toast and shoved it in his mouth.

“I really don’t know what to do about her,” Ms. Price said while slapping jam onto the pieces of toast. “She doesn’t go outside and play anymore. She always had such an active imagination, too. She’d always be playing games and not come back for hours. Now that I think of it, she’s been by herself an awful lot. Have you noticed?”

“I think so. Ever since…you know,” Mr. Brown said quietly while shaking the crumbs off his shirt.

* * *

“Judy?” Mr. Brown called out into the dark woods. “Judith?” Where has that girl gone to?

He shined his large silver flashlight out far ahead of him and began trekking through the woods. “I’m really getting too old for this,” he said aloud to himself, and let out an exasperated sigh. His foot caught on a branch from a dead tree that had fallen over and he stumbled. He dropped his flashlight in order to catch himself. The flashlight flew ahead in front of him and landed in a pile of leaves. The light shown through the pile of leaves, radiating a golden glow. Mr. Brown went after his flashlight, buttoning up his jacket as a cold wind whistled through the tall trees.

He wadded into the sea of leaves to grab the flashlight. His foot knocked against something concealed inside. It was softer than a root or branch. What is that?

Holding the flashlight in his mouth, Mr. Brown shoveled the leaves aside, scooping them up and throwing them off. Curled up at the base of the roots was a little girl.

“Judith!” exclaimed Mr. Brown, and the flashlight fell from his mouth. She didn’t move. He shook her by the shoulders and yelled her name directly in her ear, but she remained still. He picked her up and ran through the dark, holding the motionless girl in his arms as he blindly ran straight ahead, hoping the edge of the woods was close. As he ran, Judith bounced around so vigorously that she was awakened. Just as Mr. Brown saw the lights of the school in the distance, he felt Judith begin to stir.

“Are you going to tell me what you were doing out there?” he asked angrily, after he had set her down and checked that she hadn’t been injured. She only had a bruise on the side of her face, no real harm done.

Judith was sitting on the stone steps with her chin in her palms.

“Ms. Price is going to be angry. No, she’s going to be worse than angry, she is going to be furious!” he cried.

Judith’s normally expressive face didn’t move. Mr. Brown noticed this, and thought it was quite bizarre. Well, he knew how to fix that.

“Alright Judy, she won’t be mad at you if you’ve broken a bone, so, what’ll it be? Arm? Leg?” he joked. But Judith remained stoic.

“What are you doing – oh, thank God, Judith, you’re alright!” Ms. Price appeared in the doorway after hearing Mr. Brown’s voice from outside. “Get in here, both of you!” Ms. Price started throwing question after question at Judith, but she wouldn’t answer.

“Why don’t you let her get some sleep? We can talk in the morning,” proposed Mr. Brown.

“Yes. Alright,” agreed Ms. Price, and Judith slumped off to her room.

“Something’s the matter,” Mr. Brown said once Judith was out of earshot. “I found her in a pile of dead leaves, just lying there unconscious.”

“Unconscious?” Ms. Price repeated, shocked.

“We should tell the girl’s parents.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen her parents come to visit recently,” Ms. Price thought aloud. “And Judith hasn’t received a letter from them in…let’s see, it’ must be months now. I don’t know how I would get a hold of them.”

“S’alright,” Mr. Brown smiled optimistically. “Isaac can cheer her up.”

“I’m not so sure,” Ms. Price sighed.

* * *

Judith sat on her hard mattress. The sun was shining high in the cloudless sky, and she could hear the children outside laughing louder than before. It was very hard to hear what Mr. Brown and Ms. Price had been saying about her over their shrieks. She was tired of listening.

The torn flower still lay up on her windowsill. She stood on top of her dresser to look at it close up. It didn’t frighten her now – it was dead. Dead things don’t move. She poked the flower just to be sure. She gazed out the window and saw her classmates playing. Playing had been fun, she remembered. But only before the leaves started to rain down. Nothing could beat snow. With everything frozen, nothing could attack you, she decided. Time had practically frozen, too. In winter, the only thing that changed was the amount of snow outside her window. Spring was so…unpredictable.

Judith’s breath had fogged up the glass, blurring the trees and the children doing cartwheels. She drew with her finger on the glass, making angels on her window.

Suddenly, a face appeared behind the glass. Judith rubbed her breath off the window and saw Isaac looking back at her. He lay in the dry dirt the grass had vacated earlier that morning.

Isaac tapped on the glass, prompting her to open it. Judith shook her head. He tapped again, harder this time.

“I won’t hurt you again,” he said quietly. “I want you to come play.”

Judith couldn’t exactly hear him through the glass, but she knew what he was saying.

“Nothing bad is gonna happen, Judy.”

“Promise?”

Isaac smiled with the baby teeth that hadn’t fallen out. “Promise.”