'Just sit here while I finish up,' Elender said pleasantly.
Obediently Elizabeth-Anne took a seat on top of the stairs, while behind her Elender breezed into Mr. Saunders' room and collected the sheets, blankets, and pillows which had been airing out in the open window all day. Elizabeth-Anne twisted around and watched her.
With an economical flick of her wrists, Elender briskly snapped the bottom sheet and let it billow out over the bed. Before it even settled down like a slow, soft cloud, she quickly went from corner to corner, tucking the sheet under the horsehair mattress, her nimble fingers stretching it taut as she made expert, neat hospital corners. The fresh autumn air wafted in through the open window, and it smelled good.
Elender stood the pillows up against the shining brass headboard and plumped them with her hands. Downstairs, a door banged shut and cowbells jangled. It was the outside door.
Elender quickly took one last look around the room. Convinced that it was indeed spotless and all was in order, she briskly crossed the oval rag rug and came out onto the landing.
She smiled at Elizabeth-Anne and then grasped hold of the banister and leaned over it. 'Jenny? Is that you?'
Two floors below, Jenny took a few steps backward and came into view. She leaned her head way back and looked up. 'Yes, Auntie, it's me,' she called up sweetly. 'I'm sorry I'm late, but Miss Welcker wanted to go over some arithmetic problems with me. It's been hard, and I'm dead tired, but it was worth it.' She covered her mouth and pretended to yawn. 'Can I do anything to help?'
'Nooo . . .' Elender said slowly. 'I'm almost done.' She waved a thin hand fluidly through the air. She had picked up that elegant mannerism from Mrs. Cromwell, and believed it gave her an air of 'quality.' 'There's some milk and cookies in the pantry.
Then why don't you go and play while it's still light? You can do your homework later.'
Jenny beamed.
'Oh, and make sure Elizabeth-Anne gets some milk and cookies too.'
Jenny's beam froze and her voice was filled with patent resignation. 'Yes, Auntie.' And she called out: 'Come on down, 'Lizbeth-Anne.'
Elizabeth-Anne gazed silently at Elender, her aquamarine eyes pale and expressionless.
'Go on,' Elender prodded gently.
Elizabeth-Anne got up and, carefully holding on to the banister, started slowly down the stairs. At the second-floor landing she hesitated and looked back up. Elender smiled and clapped her hands. 'Go on, now.'
Elizabeth-Anne obeyed. She could understand what people said and what they told her to do, but she still had not regained her power of speech. All Elender's efforts at trying to get her to talk had been in vain.
In the pantry Jenny quickly stuffed her pockets full of cookies. They looked big and crunchy and smelled delicious.
She nibbled on one and peered out into the kitchen. Elizabeth-Anne was just coming in. Quickly Jenny swallowed the cookie, then lifted the white ceramic milk pitcher and plate of cookies and tiptoed with them out into the kitchen.
Jenny had grown nearly half an inch over the past few months, and her heart-shaped face was covered with freckles. Her eyes were a fathomless robin's-egg blue and her dark brown hair was neatly parted in the middle and plaited in two thick, long braids. At the moment, her lips were decidedly turned down at the corners.
As Elizabeth-Anne carefully pulled one of the chairs out from under the kitchen table, Jenny deliberately sneaked behind her so that she couldn't help but back into her. 'Watch it!' Jenny cried when she knew it was too late. Elizabeth-Anne spun around and looked at the plate and pitcher in horror. For a fraction of a second they seemed suspended in midair. Then, as if in slow motion, they crashed to the floor. The pitcher shattered into a thousand ceramic shards as milk flew everywhere and cookies rolled across the floor in all directions.
'Now look what you made me do!' Jenny yelled.
Elizabeth-Anne could only stare at the mess in openmouthed horror.
Elender's footsteps came in a quick cadence down the stairs. She stopped in the doorway, her hands on her narrow hips as she surveyed the damage. 'All right,' she said quietly. 'What happened?'
Jenny spun around and pointed an accusing finger at Elizabeth-Anne. 'She did it! It's all her fault! She came barging right into me!'
Elender stepped forward. 'You'd both better clean up this mess immediately,' she said calmly.
'But it wasn't my fault, Auntie!' Jenny wailed shrilly. 'Why should I have to do it?'
'I'm sure that if Elizabeth-Anne was to blame, she didn't mean to do it,' Auntie said judiciously. 'But you'll both clean it up. Before you go out and play. There've been altogether too many accidents around here lately.'
Jenny glared malevolently at Elizabeth-Anne.
'I'll be back in five minutes,' Auntie warned. 'By that time I expect this kitchen to be spotless. And for the remainder of the day, neither of you shall have any cookies. Is that clear?'
Jenny lowered her eyes demurely. 'Yes, Auntie,' she murmured in a contrite voice. 'I'm sorry.'
Elender swept out, and as soon as she was gone, Jenny raised her head. A wicked kind of triumph glinted in her eyes.
Elizabeth-Anne stared at Jenny blankly. But when Jenny reached into her pocket for a cookie and began nibbling deliberately on it, the blank expression disappeared. Silent tears of rage welled up in Elizabeth-Anne's eyes. She longed to speak up—to cry out—against the injustice. She even opened her mouth. But not a sound would come out.
And that only made her cry all the more, as she cleaned up the mess Jenny had made while Jenny watched her, relishing each bite she took of the cookie.
4
One morning, after several days spent wrestling with herself about what was best for Elizabeth-Anne, Elender dressed her in freshly laundered clothes and, holding her hand, escorted her to the local schoolhouse, a one-room red-painted building situated at the edge of Quebeck. Jenny and all her friends attended the school, and Elender figured that although Elizabeth-Anne couldn't speak, she was of school age. It bothered her that the child had no friends. Perhaps at school she would make some.
There were six grades in the Quebeck schoolhouse.
The teacher, a thin, stern-faced spinster by the name of Miss Welcker, had previously taught in New Orleans. Tuition cost ten dollars per year for each student.
'That'll be eight dollars for Elizabeth-Anne, since school has already been in session for two months,' Miss Welcker told Elender.
Elender thought it a highly worthwhile investment.
It turned out to be a waste of money.
Elizabeth-Anne neither learned anything nor made any friends. The fact that she could not speak was bad enough, but the fact that she had been part of the traveling circus was worse. All the other children regarded her as a freak. She was an outcast. A pariah.
It began that first day, during recess.
'Maybe she's a dwarf and won't grow any more,' one of the girls whispered loud enough so that Elizabeth-Anne could hear.
'Or maybe she'll grow hair all over her body,' one of the boys suggested. 'Then she can go off and join a sideshow!'
And everyone hooted with cruel laughter.
Day after day, the ruthless taunts continued. Elizabeth-Anne learned to ignore them as best she could, usually by pretending not to hear them. Even Jenny, who had always enjoyed being one of the most popular girls, found her popularity waning dangerously. Because Elizabeth-Anne lived with her, she was sometimes included in the verbal assaults. She complained bitterly to Elender about it.
'Auntie, you've got to take 'Lizbeth-Anne out of school!' she begged.
'But why, for heaven's sake?'
'Everybody's making fun of her!'
'Perhaps they'll soon stop.'
'But they're making fun of me too!' Jenny wailed.
'You're old enough to ignore that kind of rubbish,' she told Jenny gently. 'Anyway, you're fortunate because you can take care of yourself. But Elizabeth-Anne's a special child. You've got to stick up for her, b
e her big sister.'
But Jenny soon discovered how to regain her lost popularity. By being the ringleader and thereby avoiding association with Elizabeth-Anne, she became even more cruel and heartless toward her than all the others combined. In fact, it was she who began to mastermind the assaults.
In class, Elizabeth-Anne felt reasonably safe. Miss Welcker ruled her students with an iron hand, and Elizabeth-Anne's desk was in the front row. But she dreaded going to school, dreaded walking there and back home, and dreaded recesses most of all. That was when the others had the best opportunity to torment her.
This gnawing fear of recesses refused to leave her, and she always tried to stay as close to Miss Welcker as possible.
Elizabeth-Anne's fears were not without foundation. Because it was not long before she was physically assaulted.
The same routine greeted Elizabeth-Anne and Jenny each school morning. Elender woke them up at five- thirty sharp, poured pots of boiling water into two enamel washbowls, and sent the girls outside to fetch their own buckets of cold water from the pump. After they had washed up and dressed, they headed across the street to the Good Eats Café, where Elender cooked and served the girls breakfast while she rushed around getting things ready for the café's first customers of the day. Then, when Elizabeth-Anne and Jenny finished eating, they split up and did their hour of morning chores. Finally Elender would hand them their lunches—usually two slices of home-baked bread spread liberally with congealed, salted bacon fat, and an apple or a pear, all neatly wrapped in newspaper and tied with a string. Then she would inspect each girl to make sure she was neat, admonish her to be good and study hard, and kiss them both good-bye. She would watch proudly from the porch as they walked off together down Main Street to school.
They look like sisters, Elender would think warmly, grateful that they were finally getting along better with each other.
Little did she know how wrong she was.
Jenny glanced over her shoulder. Auntie's house was out of sight. 'Go on by yourself, freak,' she said caustically.
Elizabeth-Anne stared at her and then went on to school alone.
Jenny watched her for a moment before turning down a side street and slowly walking past the Pitcock house. At the end of the street she turned around and passed the house again.
A few minutes later Laurenda Pitcock caught up with her. 'What do you think you're doin'?' she hissed breathlessly. 'You were supposed to wait by the bandstand for me! We had a deal.'
Jenny tossed her pigtails defiantly. 'I can walk where I like,' she said with laughter in her voice.
'If my mama saw you and thought you were waitin' for me, I'd be in big trouble.'
'And get whipped again?' Jenny said slyly.
Laurenda scowled. 'I told you before, I don't get whipped.'
'That's not what I heard. 'Sides, for a few days after your mama and all the ladies came to visit Auntie, you had trouble sittin'!'
'That's a lie!'
Jenny hooted with laughter. Angrily Laurenda grabbed her arm. Jenny stopped laughing and looked at her challengingly. After a moment Laurenda let go of her. She kicked a pebble and watched it skip down the road. 'Sometimes I think you don't like me,' she mumbled.
Jenny shrugged. 'I don't care what you think.' She offered Laurenda her lunch pack. 'Want my apple?'
Laurenda shook her head, and for a while they walked on in silence. Then, as they neared the school, Jenny turned to her, a smile on her face. 'I have an idea,' she said slowly. 'But I need your help. And everybody else's too.'
'Is it about the freak?' Laurenda looked at her with quickening interest.
Jenny nodded. 'It'll keep her from coming to school.'
Laurenda stopped walking and stared at her. 'You're sure?'
'I'm sure. Can I count you in on it?'
Laurenda squirmed uncomfortably. 'Will I get into trouble?'
'I don't think so,' Jenny said slowly. Then she brightened. 'And if you do, your mama won't care, will she, as long as it keeps the freak out of school?'
Laurenda grinned and Jenny put an arm around her shoulder, confidentially drawing her head close to hers. They walked slowly toward the schoolhouse. 'I've got it all figured out,' Jenny said in a low voice. 'We'll do it tomorrow at recess. That'll give us enough time to get everybody ready. I'll distract Miss Welcker, so you don't have to worry about her. Now, here's what you and the others need to do. . . .'
Midmorning. The following day.
Miss Welcker frowned at the class, her hard dark eyes and thin lipless mouth set into disapproving lines. What she saw brought on a feeling of uneasiness. The roomful of children facing her, sitting ramrod straight and still, with hands folded in total obedience, was too good to be true.
Melissa Welcker was a middle-aged woman with a complexion like glazed ceramic and unmanageable graying hair escaping a tight bun. She had been teaching for over twenty-two years, and relied greatly on instinct. She prided herself on being able to sense when some elusive mischief or other was brewing, and she could sense it now. The children had been too well- behaved this morning, and their faces, though carefully set like masks, could not hide the eager anticipation in their eyes. Something was definitely up. If only she knew what.
Slowly she reached for the brass bell she kept on her desk and picked it up by its wooden handle. She held it thoughtfully for a moment, then gave it a single shake.
The moment the clang reverberated through the room, the children rushed to the door, their feet stampeding the scrubbed floor like a herd of cattle. By prearrangement, everyone would play pin-the-tail-on- the-donkey. On her way out, Laurenda Pitcock reached for the 'tail,' which was kept on a shelf. It consisted of several lengths of rawhide tied together with a thick pin stuck through the knot at the top end. The 'donkey' was cut from a large board and was nailed to the fence in the schoolyard. For as long as anybody in Quebeck could remember, that donkey had been there, the wood gradually weathering into a dull pewter patina until it looked the color of a real donkey. Parents remembered playing with it, and over the years, only the tail had had to be regularly replaced.
Melissa Welcker gathered up several books, scraped back her chair, and started to rise from her desk, when she noticed a lone pupil standing in front of her. She looked up in surprise. 'Yes, Jennifer? Aren't you going outside to play?'
'I've got some division problems I don't understand,' Jenny said timidly. 'I wondered . . .'
Miss Welcker folded her hands on the desktop and frowned at Jenny. 'But you're doing just fine, Jennifer! You got an A on your last test.'
Jenny smiled tightly. 'I know, but I would like to do even better. I'm still a little confused, especially with the fractions. . . .' She bit down on her lower lip and stole a glance behind her at the open door.
Melissa Welcker sighed. 'Very well, Jennifer,' she said. 'Shut the door and we'll see what we can do.'
Jenny could barely keep the triumph off her face. Now all she had to do was ask enough questions to keep Miss Welcker occupied for the next half-hour. That way, recess wouldn't be supervised.
The others were counting on her.
Outside on the playground, Elizabeth-Anne kept to herself and walked around the yard slowly with her head tucked down. The day was cool and crisp and invigorating, and there was a decided nip in the air that told her winter was not far off. She could almost smell it in the wind that blew down from the north. Despite the sweater she wore, she rubbed her forearms briskly with her hands.
She was oblivious of everything going on around her. She felt protected by this invisible wall she erected between herself and the others.
She was so involved in her own introspection that she never noticed everyone drifting quietly toward her from all sides. When she did become aware of it, it was too late. She was entirely surrounded.
Her heart skipped a beat and she looked about in confusion. She took a step forward to walk away, but Laurenda Pitcock blocked her. She turned in another direction, but Nadine Der
rick stood in her way. She felt a chill racing up her spine. She hadn't realized that she had strayed so far from the schoolhouse. Suddenly she wished she had stayed near the porch.
Laurenda put her face so close to Elizabeth-Anne's that she could smell Laurenda's warm breath. 'You scared?' the bigger girl growled.
Elizabeth-Anne's eyes filled with tears, but she shook her head defiantly.
With two fingers Laurenda held up the black handkerchief that was used as a blindfold while playing pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. Having always been excluded from the games, Elizabeth-Anne now stared at the handkerchief with special terror. She took a step backward and bumped into somebody.
'Aw, come on, 'Lizbeth-Anne,' Laurenda urged.
'Don't be such a sissy. We only want you to play with us. Right, everybody?' She looked around.
There were soft laughs and grunts of agreement.
'See?' Laurenda said.
Elizabeth-Anne stared at her, lips trembling. She didn't like Laurenda Pitcock. The girl was mean and frightened her. And Laurenda was very chummy with Jenny. Besides, Elizabeth-Anne knew quite well that Mrs. Pitcock had headed the delegation of women who had visited Auntie.
Her eyes now darted toward the schoolhouse. She prayed that Miss Welcker was around, so she could make a quick getaway. But the teacher was nowhere in sight. Where was she?
Against her better judgment, Elizabeth-Anne found herself letting Laurenda blindfold her. She could feel her knees buckling as the black handkerchief was tied firmly around her head. Now she could neither talk nor see, but she bravely tried to keep from showing her terror. She would play the game fearlessly, she decided. Perhaps then they would get bored and leave her alone.
She held the 'tail' straight out in front of her, trying to remember in which direction the fence with the donkey was.
She took a deep breath, dreading what was coming. She had no idea what the children were up to. But she knew that it couldn't be nice.
Then she felt a dozen rough hands grabbing her and spinning her savagely around. And then around again. And then again. . . .
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