"You were talking."
"Some."
"And this grownup took you home and bought you clothing."
"I think he was a janitor. I know more about jobs now and I think that's what he was. It was night when he worked, and he didn't wear a uniform like a guard."
"What happened?"
"That's when I first found out about legal and illegal. It wasn't legal for him to have a child. I heard him yelling at this woman about me and most of it I didn't understand, but at the end I knew he had lost and she had won, and he started talking to me about how I had to go away, and so I went."
"He just turned you loose in the streets?"
"No, I left. I think now he was going to have to give me to somebody else, and it sounded scary, so I left before he could do it. But I wasn't naked or hungry anymore. He was nice. After I left I bet he didn't have any more trouble."
"And that's when you started living on the streets."
"Sort of. A couple of places I found, they fed me. But every time, other kids, big ones, would see that I was getting fed and they'd come shouting and begging and the people would stop feeding me or the bigger kids would shove me out of the way or take the food right out of my hands. I was scared. One time a big kid got so mad at me for eating that he put a stick down my throat and made me throw up what I just ate, right on the street. He even tried to eat it but he couldn't, it made him try to throw up, too. That was the scariest time. I hided all the time after that. Hid. All the time."
"And starved."
"And watched," said Bean. "I ate some. Now and then. I didn't die."
"No, you didn't."
"I saw plenty who did. Lots of dead children. Big ones and little ones. I kept wondering how many of them were from the clean place."
"Did you recognize any of them?"
"No. Nobody looked like they ever lived in the clean place. Everybody looked hungry."
"Bean, thank you for telling me all this."
"You asked."
"Do you realize that there is no way you could have survived for three years as an infant?"
"I guess that means I'm dead."
"I just . . . I'm saying that God must have been watching over you."
"Yeah. Well, sure. So why didn't he watch over all those dead kids?"
"He took them to his heart and loved them."
"So then he didn't love me?"
"No, he loved you too, he--"
"Cause if he was watching so careful, he could have given me something to eat now and then."
"He brought me to you. He has some great purpose in mind for you, Bean. You may not know what it is, but God didn't keep you alive so miraculously for no reason."
Bean was tired of talking about this. She looked so happy when she talked about God, but he hadn't figured it out yet, what God even was. It was like, she wanted to give God credit for every good thing, but when it was bad, then she either didn't mention God or had some reason why it was a good thing after all. As far as Bean could see, though, the dead kids would rather have been alive, just with more food. If God loved them so much, and he could do whatever he wanted, then why wasn't there more food for these kids? And if God just wanted them dead, why didn't he let them die sooner or not even be born at all, so they didn't have to go to so much trouble and get all excited about trying to be alive when he was just going to take them to his heart. None of it made any sense to Bean, and the more Sister Carlotta explained it, the less he understood it. Because if there was somebody in charge, then he ought to be fair, and if he wasn't fair, then why should Sister Carlotta be so happy that he was in charge?
But when he tried to say things like that to her, she got really upset and talked even more about God and used words he didn't know and it was better just to let her say what she wanted and not argue.
It was the reading that fascinated him. And the numbers. He loved that. Having paper and pencil so he could actually write things, that was really good.