Circus Me, By: Hannah Dettmer, Ms.Bartl, Grade 6

Be honest, who would expect a homeless girl to retire at age 11. I did. But I’m not what you would call ordinary. I’ll tell you something then we’ll see what you think. My parents died a year after I was born so I was raised in an orphanage. Then I ran away from there at age 6. After living in hiding for a year I joined the local circus and was taught the tight rope at age 7.
Then yet again I ran away (or ‘retired’) at age 13. Now hear I am roaming the dirty streets of Manhattan.
I run down the alley and zoom into my favorite ice cream shop: Rockin’ Rowley’s ice cream parlor. Right as I’m about to jump up to the counter I slam into someone who I’m pretty sure is a lot bigger than me because I’ve got a pretty good look at her feet. They’re enormous. I slowly look up and stare at a pretty blonde-haired girl with eyes kind of like mine.

Anna
I just slammed into this small girl who has short jet-black hair and scared green eyes. Her face is all dirty and her clothes are much too small.
“Hi,” I say helping her up. She looks like I just punched her or something. She’s scared. I realize then she must be homeless. She has to be. Don’t ask me why I said this. I don’t know.
“Are you homeless?” I ask stupidly. Her eyes grow real wide and she runs.
I open the door to my large house and step inside calling. “Mom!” I yell, “Mom!”
“What?” She huffs coming down the stairs. “I was right in the middle if my exercises!”
“Oh, well sorry but I just met this little girl on the street that’s probably about my age and I think she’s homeless!”
“Well honey there are a lot of those people around. Its just part of life.”
“No mom this isn’t some bum who steals things this is a real innocent girl!” I yelled
She just shakes her head and walks away. I walk glumly outside not being able to quite enjoy spring at it’s fullness. The flowers in full blossom the smell of sweet earth. I stalk restlessly to the orphanage to hand out the daily bread. One of my many chores. I feel sorry for all those little girls out there who are treated so badly. It makes me sad.

Riana
All day every day I stay in my house if you could even call it a house. More precisely it’s an old refrigerator box. I think. Then everything happens so fast I have no time to think. A gnarled hand clenches my slim shoulder and drags me with such surprising strength I’m knocked of guard. All I can do is wiggle. I’m thrown roughly into the back of a familiar truck. “She’s the one Gad we’ve got her.” We start moving and wa la I’m on my way to the same orphanage I ran away from.
When the horrid car comes to a stop I’m marched into the stone house, up some stairs and into a room that I have to think is my bedroom. Wooden beds line the peeling, bare walls and hard uneven wood covers the floor. Little dirty faces stare at me. I am more alone than ever.

Anna
I run to the orphanage to get the boring chore out of the way and start silently out the rations of bread to the muddy children. I stop short. There was the little girl. The girl I had seen at the ice cream parlor more dirty than ever with a small name tag slapped on her chest reading: Riana

Riana
I sit miserably on my bed when I’m not made to eat or go for a walk. I prefer to be alone these days.
I wake up one morning in my hard wooden bed and the everyday dread of being here washes over me. But something is terribly wrong. I can’t see a thing and my body wouldn’t listen to me. I try to get up but a spurt of pain so terrible rockets through my entire body and sends me screaming. The girls look at me in fright and one sprints from the room I hope to get a professor. I’m laid on a quickly made stretcher and hurried out of the room to a waiting ambulance where I’m loaded into the back. Mrs. McCarty looks at me with pretend sympathy. I really do hate her. I lose track of time and black out.
I open my eyes not seeing well at all. I’m on an I.V. and three doctors whisper urgently nearby.
Anna
I hand out the bread today again and this time the girl Riana isn’t present. Never a good sign. I ask Mrs. Sacridge and she tells me devastating news: Riana is in the hospital.
Riana
Everyday is worse. I can see no longer, I’m getting weaker and weaker and I can’t move. The doctors reassure me but I hear them when they think they’re out of earshot. I catch words like “Typhus-“ and “fading” and “typhoid” and I know I am dying.

…To be continued…