Little Sparrow

Chapter One

I never cared for Christmas.

When December hit, bringing with it the cold and a sudden uptick in runny noses and sneezing, I wished for it to pass by quickly. The ground and windows had a permanent frost covering them and walking through a hallway felt like walking into an icebox. Matron Webster handed out itchy handkerchiefs to those with a cold which made their noses red, and it became impossible to sleep since the dormitories were full of the sound of sniffing or sneezing.

The dresses provided offered little to no protection from the falling temperatures, and within days of the cold front hitting, half of the girls were unwell. Matron Webster paid them nor the rest of us any mind and just ordered us on with our chores when half of the girls were on the edge of collapsing. Sometimes Matron Webster would light a fire to offer a little bit of warmth, but more often than not she would forget.

Despite that, she often retreated to her office and the warmth of her private fireplace. That, at least, gave us the slightest respite from her watchful eyes and offered up more opportunities for us to talk to one another. We were supposed to our chores in silence, but whenever she retreated to her office, we took the opportunity to break the rule. That small act of rebellion became our fire against the cold winter.

"If it gets any colder, I'm going to be an icicle come Christmas," Charity said. She paused for a second and rubbed her hands together to try and get a spark of warmth.

"At least if you turn into an icicle you can't get any colder," Ethel reasoned.

"That's true." She paused. "Any chance you can make a fire, Lizzie? A small one?"

"If I had matchbooks for arms, probably," I said.

"Funny. I thought there might be something in the fireplace."

"Just soot."

With that, a plume of soot dropped from the chimney above me. I shuffled backwards to avoid getting hit in the face with the cloud of black dust. Streaks of soot and ash marked my arms and fingertips, the skin underneath feeling raw from the scrubbing and cleaning. Why I had to clean a fireplace that we never used made little sense to me, but I was not one to argue.

When the dust cleared, I took my scrubbing brush and tried to clean as much of the soot up as possible. The more soot I removed, the more fell but, I attempted to make it look like I had put some effort into my chore so Matron would not force me to climb up the chimney itself to ensure I had finished the job correctly. All I had to do was try not to dislodge any more soot as I cleaned. A job far easier said than done.

By the time I had made a dent in the never-ending waterfall of soot and ash that fell from a chimney, any pink on my hands had been covered by soot. I wiped my fingers along the front of my dress to try and clean them, but it did no good and, I returned to cleaning.

"I think you have the right idea with keeping your hair short, Lizzie," Charity said.

"Huh?"

I turned to face her, watching her push a strand of hair off her face. The front portion of her hair had become sopping wet after her constant need to move it out of her eyes so she could see. Small soap bubbles clung to some of the strands. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at her.

"See? I told you," I said.

"Wipe your hands on your dress before you move your hair, or keep it tucked under your bonnet. There's no need to cut it," Sally said.

"Easy for you to say," Charity muttered.

The moment Sall had turned her head, Charity stuck her tongue out at her. I had to hide my face in the fireplace before Sally could see me laugh. For a reason unknown to everyone, Sally had a problem with how short I kept my hair. She had never been that much of a fan of the chin-length cut I had maintained for years. I did not see any reason for her to be fussed by it; it was on my head, not hers.