In Exchange for Magic

"Rose!"

Distantly, I heard my name being called. I lazily entertained the idea that the voice was merely a dream. It floated casually through my ears and tip-toed down my nose, playing connect the dots with the freckles on my face.

"Rose, get down here!"

I heard the heavy heels of Ms. Geller's practical shoes clunk up the stairs. Instantly, I sprang from my doze and scrambled into my closet. I ducked behind the racks of clothing and tried not to breathe loudly. My room was the largest, as it had been meant for the living quarters of the owners back when the Geller Home for Girls was a boarding house. As a result, I had the biggest closet - so the rest of the girls stored their winter clothing in my room.

"Rose?"

The voice was annoyed, tired, and quite close now. Ms. Geller clunked her way into my room and immediately went for the closet. The musty-smelling coats that had been obscuring me from view were parted with a snap.

"You, downstairs, now."
"Why, how rude!"
"Rose," Ms. Geller warned.
"A girl needs her privacy, Ms. Geller! What if I had been changing in here?"
"Well, you weren't, were you? You were hiding."
"Yes, but I very well could have been changing."
"Rose."

I scowled and rose from the floor of my closet, shaking a small cobweb from my left hand. Ms. Geller sighed heavily and picked a mothball from my dull blond hair. She wore a worn-out floral dress, letting everyone know how hard she was trying to look decent. Her bronze hair was wiry and a bit unruly, but she even attempted to hold that down with a few bobby pins. Her appearance matched her personality - frazzled, if not a bit severe.

"Why do you do this to me, Rose?" she asked, picking a bit of dirt off the skirt of my dress. "Is it because you're upset about Adoption Day?"
"No," I scoffed. "Adoption Day is for kids."
"You are a kid."
"So I suppose that's why you're kicking me out in a few months?"

She looked up at me angrily.

"It is state law, Rose. You turn seventeen, you move out. We've discussed this, do not bring it up again."
"Whatever."
"Brush your hair," she replied. "Turn around, I'll zip up your dress."
"But the exposed bra look is so in right now."
"Don't get smart."

For the past three Adoption Days, Ms. Geller has somehow forced me into a frilly yellow sun-dress. I lovingly began to refer to it as "The Thing", much to her annoyance. She straightened my shoulders and cast a quick glance at me feet.

"Sneakers?" she cried.
"What's the point?" I retorted hotly. "It's not like I'm going to get adopted!"
"You're representing the Geller Home for - "
"I'm representing nothing. I'll wear sneakers if I want."

Ms. Geller glowered at my choice of footwear but, ultimately, didn't argue. She knew as well as I did that adoption rates dropped drastically at ages as young as six. Twelve was a miracle, sixteen was an apocalypse.

Ms. Geller took a firm hold on my arm and tugged me down the stairs. I emerged into the reception area, pouting severely. A few couples glanced my way, stared a while, and then continued on as if an angst-ridden teenage girl hadn't just stuck her tongue out at them. I suppose they had a reason to stare - I wasn't exactly the definition of presentable with my uncombed hair, out-of-place dress, and torn sneakers.

"At least pretend like you're having fun," Ms. Geller ordered out of the corner of her mouth, while simultaneously grinning and waving at the hordes of potential parents.

"No."
"Well, if you're not going to be happy, then I need you out of the way," she responded grumpily.
"I'll just go to my room," I suggested, trying to keep the hopeful note out of my voice.
"Oh no, you don't!" she scolded. "Chores."
"Aw, come on!"

She paused for a second to answer a small, blond woman's quick question before turning to catch me before I slipped up the stairs.

"You were assigned to clean out the basement last month - "
"Ms. Geller!" I protested. "Shit. I'd rather stay down here and be ogled."
"Language," she snapped. "You're going to have to clean it sooner or later. Now's the perfect time."
"Nobody's been down there for years."
"You'll be the first. I'll be like an adventure, okay? Now go."
"An adventure in the basement?"
"Rose - "
"What am I, five?"
"Go."

I blew a loud raspberry. Immature, yet effective. Ms. Geller swelled as I spun on a heel and stalked across the room. I took one last look at all the chattering kids and bashful, fumbling adults before turning into the hall and shutting the door behind me. The large basement door loomed in front of me. The sounds of the children were muffled now, so quiet that I could barely make out a: "Hey! It's my turn! You have to share!"

The door was the last one, at the very end of the hall. It was metal and solid-looking, with an old fashioned sliding lock resting on a peg. The white paint had been chipped away over the years and the metal underneath was rusted orange and slightly green. I sighed and pulled open the door. The blast of frigid air led me to believe that it had once been a meat locker.

For a second, I peered down the ominous flight of rickety stairs descending into cold nothingness. It was then that I realized how childish I was being, standing timidly at the doorway of a simple basement. With one bold step, I flung myself onto the top step and let go of the door. The sound of metal on metal echoed through the emptiness as the door bumped against its frame.

In my slightly panicked procedure, I had neglected to find a light switch. My first task was just to enter the basement. I hadn't thought about being able to actually see to clean it.

The darkness was crushing and I felt as if I were floating in space, with infinity all around me. I suddenly felt a horrible sense of isolation.

I was alone.

Completely alone.