The War that Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

worked. “Plus it got me away from those titty-tatty neighbors with nothin’
nice to say. I’ve got a decent job now, even if it is still nights. You’ll like the
new place. It won’t be posh like that rich old bat’s you were with, but it’s
pretty fine.”
“Susan’s not a rich old bat,” Jamie said.
Oh, Jamie, I thought, shut up.
“Sure she is now. Bet she pockets what she gets to take you in. Except, of
course, for what she spent on those clothes. What’s that you’re wearing,
anyhow, Ada? Pants?”
“Riding jodhpurs,” I said, then immediately wished I hadn’t.
“Oooh, fancy! What’s that called, when it’s at home?”
“They’re just pants for riding,” I said. “They’re not posh. Posh ladies wear
riding habits. And they didn’t cost anything. Susan made them.” She’d had to,
when I’d worn out the pants Maggie gave me. And I should learn to shut up
too, really I should.
“Ooh, posh ladies wear riding habits, do they? Surprised you ain’t got one
of those.”
Susan had said she would make me one. She thought it would be fun.
“You won’t be wearing pants in my house,” Mam said. “Tomorrow I’ll be
taking those to the pawn shop and getting you something suitable. The cheek
of her. Letting you out where people could see you.”
“There’s nothing much wrong with me,” I said. “My foot’s a long way
from my brain.”
Slap!
I fell backward, stumbling, scraping my elbow on something rough. For a
moment I lost my crutches in the dark. Jamie helped me. Shut up, I thought.
Shut up.
Mam led us up three flights of stairs. Bare dim lightbulbs hung at each
landing, throwing the stairwells into shadow. I saw something scutter out of
view. A rat, I thought. I’d forgotten rats. I’d forgotten how the hallways
smelled from the common toilets on each floor.
Mam swung open a dirty wooden door. “Here we are,” she said.
The flat was two small rooms. We walked into a room with a table, a sink,
a gas ring, and some chairs. A thin rug on a linoleum floor.
No cabinet under the sink. No cabinet big enough to stuff me into. I looked