by Rachel Klein
Is this her weakness? Is water the medium that pulls her down? She is used to having the advantage. Dora had no wings, and she was facing someone with wings. Wings are useless in water.
April 15
Today is Sofia’s birthday. She’s seventeen. I gave her a carved wooden box from India, lined with purple velvet. I bought it when I was home over vacation. Carol ordered a beautiful birthday cake decorated with flowers from the bakery store in town. She asked Mrs. Halton if we could all have tea and cake in the kitchen during quiet hour. Sofia didn’t want to eat the cake. She said it would ruin her diet. She picked at the white cake and left a huge pile of frosting with pink roses and green stems on her plate. I looked around at the crowded little table, and I realized that no one was eating their cake. At least I have an excuse. I ate one of Sofia’s pink flowers. It was too sweet and buttery. No one was even talking. Everyone looked glum and tired. What’s happening to us?
April 16
I was swimming. The pool was long and narrow, and at the end the sunlight came through tall windows and splashed into the water. The surface had been warmed, but underneath, in the depths, it remained chilly. I could swim forever and never tire. The water supported my buoyant body like a hand. It was impossible to sink into it. I opened my eyes and watched the arrows of light pierce the murky green liquid and leave shadows along the bottom. My arms had taken over the rhythm of the stroke. I didn’t have to do anything but float. There was nothing to be afraid of.
April 18
Early morning
When I opened my eyes, I found myself humming “Morning Has Broken.” More Cat Stevens. The words of his songs are beginning to make sense. Only I’m not convinced that every morning is a new beginning, like the first morning in the garden of Eden. I’ve lost that innocence. Memory has replaced it.
Last night Carol and I snuck over to the College with Sofia at midnight, finally. It was dark out, and we kept tripping over roots and stones. Chris was waiting there, just as Sofia had arranged, and the two of them went off together. It was too dark to get a good look at him. We all brought sleeping bags. Carol and I slept together under a weeping willow. Before we fell asleep, Carol made a lot of crude jokes about Sofia and sex like, “The fucking you get isn’t worth the fucking you take,” and we laughed so hard. I kept thinking, her life is changing forever, and all we can do is laugh.
As we were walking back to school early this morning, I asked Sofia how it was.
“Not what I expected,” she replied.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, it was kind of nothing. I feel exactly the same way I did before, except that now I’m worried about getting pregnant. And I’m sure I’m not in love with him.”
“Well, did you at least enjoy it?” asked Carol.
“Not really. Maybe I will after I get used to it.”
We walked a ways in silence.
“I’m glad it’s over with,” said Sofia. “I’m glad it was the first time for both of us.”
Probably Lucy and Ernessa are the only girls left on the corridor who are still virgins, besides me, of course.
In English class, when we read Iphigenia at Aulis, no one could understand why the Greeks sacrificed beautiful virgins to the gods. In the middle of our discussion, Kiki shouted out, “All the girls must have rushed off to lose their virginity when it was time to make a sacrifice.” We all laughed at her, even Miss Russell. But Sofia is rushing off like that to lose her virginity, as if she’s afraid of something.
Is it worth sacrificing your life to remain pure?
I’ll finish this later.
Or maybe I won’t write another word.
After dinner
I’m ready. Here goes. I’m doing this for Sofia.
I went right to sleep last night. I was tired, and I didn’t want to listen to them. They weren’t very far away, just up the hill behind the tree. I woke up a few hours later. It had grown cold and damp. I was shivering. There was mist everywhere, rising out of the ground and floating away. I wondered how we would ever manage to get back to school if we couldn’t see a thing. I’m sure I was awake, because by then I was much too cold to sleep. I thought about waking Carol and telling her that I wanted to go back to school, but she was sound asleep.
I must have dozed off, even though I was sitting up. I was standing by Sofia and Chris, but they couldn’t see me, because I was hidden in the mist. There wasn’t much to see. They were in a sleeping bag, and he was lying on top of her and moving back and forth slowly. There was a faint rustling, and Ernessa was standing next to me. She smiled at me like a conspirator.
“You need to look more closely,” she said loudly. I was sure they could hear her and would know that we were watching them. “Can’t you see their hovering spirits entwined? Throughout eternity, like a poem. Don’t see them yet? I don’t believe in spirits, but I believe in eternity. For all I know, they feel eternal.”
I turned to her to tell her to be quiet, not to talk to me anymore, ever, but she was gone.
They had thrown off the sleeping bag and were lying on the damp ground, completely naked. Still, they didn’t seem to realize that I was practically standing over them. Sofia was underneath, whimpering and flailing her hands, then sinking her nails into his back, and on top Chris was rising up and crashing down on her, while he held her shoulders against the ground, at first with his hands, and then with his knees, as he slid up her body. He looked over at me, when he had pushed himself into her mouth, and I could see him: his short fair hair, his wet blue eyes, his pink complexion with pimples on the forehead. He looked just the way Sofia had described him.
His knees rose up and down, while he braced himself with his hands. From Sofia came choked screams. Each time his knees came down, he pushed Sofia a little farther into the earth. The ground broke open under their weight. The soil was loose. It crumbled. Sofia sank until she was completely out of sight and I could only see her arms, the hands grabbing at the air. His broad back was white against the black earth.
Midnight
I asked Sofia, “Did he hurt you very much?”
“A little bit,” she said, slipping her arm through mine. “It was uncomfortable, not really painful. He was sweet about it. I don’t think I bled much. I couldn’t tell. I just wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. You shouldn’t be scared.”
“Was that all he did to you?” I asked.
“What do you mean, all he did?” Sofia looked at me suspiciously.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Forget it.”
April 19
This school is finally finished. A lot of the day students stayed home today. Between classes, the halls were empty. “The handwriting is on the wall” – my father’s expression.
Miss Bobbie died.
It happened over the weekend, but somehow the day students already knew about it. Miss Rood announced it in assembly this morning. She wanted to keep it a secret from us, but she had to tell us. She can’t hide something like that. All however many hundred girls gasped in unison and turned to each other and started to whisper. It was like a dream. Immediately, the row of teachers sitting in the very back began their shushing.
“Girls, quiet. Assembly is not over. You have not been dismissed,” said Miss Rood.
We went on with the rest of assembly as if the school weren’t coming to an end. That was her intention, to let the news sink in before she let us go. Miss Rood wasn’t going to tell us anything more about Miss Bobbie. She seemed less upset than when Pater was found. Her nose wasn’t red this time. She was perfectly calm. I wondered if I’d misunderstood her words, and she’d only been announcing the names of girls who had to report to Miss Bobbie after assembly.
“Let us turn to hymn fifty-one,” said Miss Rood, and she signaled the music teacher to start playing the piano. The opening bars were drowned out by the sound of us reaching for the hymnbooks. I found myself singing along with everyon
e else, without any hesitation: “Oh, God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come.” It’s my favorite hymn, and Miss Rood always chooses it when something bad has happened. She made us sing every verse. A fierceness settled over her face while she sang: “Time, like an ever-rolling stream, bears all its sons away: They fly forgotten, as a dream dies at the opening day.”
After the hymn, Miss Rood made all the announcements for the coming week, and then she said, “You may go now,” just as she does at the end of every assembly. The teachers all stood up at once in a line at the back and tried to usher us out. “Don’t run! Don’t talk! Stay in a line!” they shouted. But they couldn’t stop us. As soon as we left the assembly room, we all broke into a run and headed straight for the doors to the Passageway. The roar of voices surged up and carried everyone along on it. My ears are still ringing.
In the Passageway, I caught up to Claire, who had already managed to get some details out of a senior who had talked to someone who knew firsthand what had happened. She said that Miss Bobbie’s body was found on the Upper Field. The top part of her was in tatters. Those were the words she used. In tatters. Just blood and shreds of flesh with broken bones sticking out. The lower half, with her plaid kilt and navy blue knee socks and brown tie shoes, was untouched. That was how they identified her. A wild animal had chased her and then attacked. She tried to run away. Imagine Miss Bobbie running. It pinned her against the iron posts of the fence. It was hungry.
We’re not out in the wilderness. The wildest thing I ever see is a squirrel.
I should be terrified, but I’m not at all. I’m flattered. Ernessa has something else in mind for me. I am the one she has chosen to see everything. Lucy could never do that. She is the victim, which she plays so beautifully. Iphigenia, the virgin sacrificed to Artemis by her father to win a war. Lucy’s saving the rest of us.
I used to feel that my parents could protect me from anything. If I boarded a boat, the swelling of the waves was like the gentle rocking of a cradle. Now those same waves crash against the boat’s side, tossing it about like a toy.
Thank you, Daddy, for preparing me to be Ernessa’s witness. Thank you for bringing me her poison apple.
I’m not the same person I used to be. That person would have felt sorry for Miss Bobbie. Maybe she did die in that horrible way. As I walked down the Passageway to class, I tried to feel what it would be like to have your throat torn open, to drown in your own blood, while the thing that attacked you just kept at it, relentlessly, impersonally. But I don’t feel the least bit sorry. I keep seeing Ernessa rising up through the water, pushing her way through the heavy liquid, digging her way out, while Miss Bobbie ignores her and keeps walking along the side of the pool, shouting instructions. The loose skin above her knees shakes with each step. Her navy blue kneesocks slip down around her ankles. After a week of swimming, Ernessa was so weak she could barely walk. She was drowning right in front of everyone. She could sleep so peacefully under a heavy blanket of earth, but being under water was like being buried alive. She slipped down so quickly, and each time she barely made it back up. She’s so strong. So weak.
April 20
Everyone has told their parents about Miss Bobbie. It didn’t even cross my mind to call my mother. Miss Rood is sending out letters to all the parents, explaining that there’s no cause for alarm, even though two people and a dog have died at school this year. One by one. She’ll say, “The Brangwyn School has experienced a series of unfortunate events, but the administration has complete control of the situation. You can be confident of your child’s safety.” That won’t do it this time. No one wants to come back next year, and every day there are more empty seats in the assembly room. They’ll empty out one by one.
Today when I walked up the drive to the Residence after gym, I saw Betsy coming down the stairs with her mother. She was carrying a suitcase. She put the suitcase down and ran over to me.
“My mother’s taking me home,” she said. “I told her that I didn’t want to go, but she’s making me. I shouldn’t have called her last night, but I was upset.”
“You’ll be back next week,” I said.
I watched her get into the yellow station wagon with wood trim. Her mother backed out, and as they drove away, Betsy turned and waved to me.
She’s the only boarder who has left so far, but most of the others are talking about not coming back next year. Now they can hate school in a new way. They think that something horrible is going to happen to them here. I know that nothing is going to happen to any of us, not even to me. Only to poor Lucy. “‘Oh mercy to myself!’ I cried, ‘if Lucy should be dead!’”
After dinner
Tonight everyone could only talk about Betsy leaving. They couldn’t decide if it was really stupid or if they wanted to go home, too. Beth, the mouse, who never says a word, who was sent home for a month after she tried to cut her wrist, announced that she heard there was a police detective walking around the Upper Field on Sunday.
“Oh, shit!” shouted Carol. “What if they question us, the way they did with Dora? Sofia, you’ll never pass a lie detector test. Everybody will find out what you did on Saturday night.”
“Do you think they’ll make us all take lie detector tests?” asked Sofia. She was about to cry.
“Cut it out,” I said. “Nobody’s going to be questioned. Miss Bobbie probably just had a heart attack and died in her sleep. Or she slipped, hit her head, and fell into the pool.” I saw Ernessa standing at the edge of the pool now, watching Miss Bobbie sink. “Why is everyone trying to turn this into something?”
Sofia looked totally confused. “We have to lie, or we’ll all be kicked out.”
“No, we won’t,” I said. “We’ll be the only ones left.”
I would do anything to keep from getting kicked out. If I were the last person left. I don’t ever want to leave. I belong here.
Lights out
They feed on each other’s fear, and they can never have enough. No one wants to think about anything else. They’re like children huddled under a blanket with a flashlight telling ghost stories. Tonight Sofia was crying right before lights out. She said that she was too upset to sleep. Carol was sitting on her bed, trying to comfort her. She was constantly sweeping her blond hair out of her eyes and back over her shoulder and twisting her head to the side. It drove me crazy. I wanted to grab her hand and twist it behind her.
I broke my promise never to mention her name. It’s time they understand what’s going on. They have to see the difference between what’s real and what’s imagined. She’s around the corner, behind her door. They need to realize that.
Carol got up and left the room right away. Even Sofia was looking at me strangely.
“She doesn’t eat anything,” I insisted. “Have you ever seen Ernessa put food in her mouth?”
“I don’t know,” said Sofia impatiently. “I can’t remember. What does it have to do with anything?”
“How can she survive? She needs some kind of nourishment.”
“Just because I never see her put food in her mouth doesn’t mean she doesn’t eat, ever. Besides, look at Annie Patterson, she lasted for a long time without eating a thing. Nobody noticed for months.”
“She was a skeleton in the end. Look at Ernessa –”
“I’m not as fascinated with her as you are. I don’t study her eating habits. You’re not eating either.”
“Don’t you think I’d eat if I could find food I liked?”
“I can’t talk about this anymore,” said Sofia. “I need to go to sleep.”
I finally got Sofia’s attention. The subject of food always does.
April 21
Lunch hour
Lucy slept through breakfast this morning and said she was going to get a note from the nurse to excuse her from gym. I can’t bear to go through this again. I told her to call her mother and tell her she wasn’t feeling well. She got furious.
“My mother would come and get me this after
noon,” she said. “I’m not sick, and I don’t need to go home. I don’t want to go home. I’m just a little upset. Everyone is.”
We have been getting along pretty well since vacation. I’ve avoided her. I don’t even like being around her. I’ve spent a lot of time with Sofia and Carol. I thought it would go on like this forever.
Ernessa was just playing the game we all play. It gives her pleasure to deny herself something that she wants, the way we push away a plate piled with angel food cake and whipped cream. We can do it a few times, but we always give in and gorge ourselves in the end. You feel that you can’t live without that piece of cake.
Sometimes Ernessa got up from the chair in her corner of the Playroom and started to walk toward Lucy, who was in the middle of a group of girls. Lucy would pretend not to see Ernessa, but I knew that she did. There was something wrong about the way Ernessa moved. She was being pulled toward Lucy by a winch. And then halfway across the room, she put up her hands to stop herself, turned to the door, and walked out. No more of that game.