Installment 5 - Graduation Night at the Orphanage (pt. 1 )

Galilee Orphanage, Visitation County, NC

Ironically, Motsie was the one voted by her Five Points High classmates 'most likely to commit murder.'  Though she never had a firearm, at least not in her own name, she was known to carry knives, whether in plain view or not.  Other kids had quit playing mumbley-peg with her in seventh grade when she tacked each of Randy Watson's desert boots to the ground during recess with a Bowie knife, and without skewering either of his feet.  She'd started the following grade at Perpetual Conception because of it, and had a little trouble there, too, but that's a different story.

Galilee loomed extra creepily on the night of the Five Points High Class of '74 graduation, backlit by a half moon and surrounded by black oaks glittering with lightning bugs, but Motsie handed her pouch of provisions over to Vincent and boldly penetrated the cluster of friends exiting the Jeep, and left them a cloud of her patchouli to arrive first at the broken window generally known to be the abandoned orphanage's new entrance.

"Hey, y'all boost me in the window and I'll go open the back door," Motsie called as they caught up.

"Motsie you be plum crazy, sho'nuff!" Lindsey mocked nervously from the back of the line in her acquired Cottondale dialect.

"Livin' south of the tracks made you scared of ghosts by osmosis, Jeri Curls?" Motsie returned.  She leaned over and pulled the back of her skirt between her legs and tucked it into her waist band, the leather sheath of a KA-BAR now peeping from the hem on her right thigh.  "I'll only just be a minute."

  "Famous last words, Sacagawea. I bet the orphan ghosts'll get you halfway down the hall." quipped Lindsey under her breath, loud enough for only the boys to hear. Then, backing over to one of the sparkly oaks, she called to them,  "Hey, how 'bout we just smoke under this tree, y'all.  It's a nice tree.  Nothing wrong with this tree. It's protected by fairies." 

Both hands now on the windowsill, Motsie called back over her shoulder, "That's fine, Aretha. You go show Martin and Vincent the new Jackson Five dance routines over yonder while I climb through and get to the door."

"I can't dance. I was asked to withdraw from cotillion," laughed Martin, swooping closer to Lindsey.  

"I could teach you, Martin."  Vincent instantly offered.  "I used to go to Arthur Murray with my mom.  Wanna come over tomorrow?"

   

"Yeah, Martin," Lindsey added, avoiding his advance. "We were on Teen Frolics last year, and Vincent was like a professional!"

With that, Martin popped back over to Motsie who was struggling to hoist herself into the window.  "I'll give you a boost, cuz.  I'm not scared of Catholics. I'm considering becoming a follower of theirs."

Vincent  rolled his eyes as Martin stared at Motsie's behind, both hands on one nether cheek while he shoved her up.   Her solar plexus pressed against the ledge sent Motsie into a convulsive fit of coughing.

"Oh my God, Motsie," cried Vincent. "Step on my back!" He ran over and stooped with his rear deliberately toward Martin, "Grab the other one, Martin!"

Motsie wrestled through the jagged glass, then leaned back over the sill and asked for the matches out of her pouch. Vincent scrounged around for them and lit a Salem Light first to use as a fuse for the bong they'd be toking in a minute, then he reached her the box.

"You could strike 'em on your jeans Vin, They're Ohio Blue Tips. Just lemme take a few out for me to see my way in the hall, and you can hold the box." 

Vincent struck a Blue Tip on his jeans and hit up the long lucite bong. His toking style was different from Lindsey's and Martin's,  wrapping his teeth and lips all the way around it. 

"Man, That's a little bit gross, Vincent. Reminds me of somethin' else, I'm not quite sure what. What's it remind you of, Lindsey?"

"Uh... nothin' I can think of." Lindsey skirted the mossy tree trunk, away from Martin. 

From the tiny portion of void beyond the broken window suddenly lit by a match, Motsie's voice came to them smaller, "I bet I can guess."  They heard bottles knocking each other and rolling on the floor, and then she was gone from them.