As we finished up the dishes, I decided to never bring up my daddy again. I felt like a jerk bragging about him coming back when none of them would ever see their parents. I figured I’d just ruined any chance of them staying my friends. We left the cafeteria and headed for the activity room and the whole way there they drilled me with questions about Daddy that I hated answering.
Jenny asked, “Does your daddy smoke cigars? My daddy did. I remember."
“No, but he smokes cigarettes.”
Karen wanted to know, “Is your Daddy tall like George Hamilton or short like Davey Jones?”
“He’s tall. I’ll probably be tall too.”
“Is he big and strong and wear a mustache?” asked Amy.
"I’ve never seen him with a mustache. Look, can we talk about something else? I don’t want you to think I’m bragging.”
“We don’t think you’re bragging.” Jenny stopped walking and the other girls lined up like dominoes. “We’re happy for you. Everybody wants to get out of here and we’ve never heard of anybody getting to before they’re sixteen. So maybe if you get to leave, somebody will come get us too.”
“There’s paper in the activity room. You could draw us a picture of him,” Karen added through a mouthful of hair.
“All right, if that’s what you want.”
We entered a large rectangular room with high ceilings and tall windows. Mismatched furniture in shades of dirt and grass were grouped together around an old TV that didn't appear to work. Clusters of tables of different sizes and more mismatched chairs littered the rest of the room. I saw Dani huddled together with older girls talking and fiddling with each other’s hair in the farthest corner from the supervising adults. She waved at me and returned to campaigning for the office of leader of the big kids.
I drew a picture of my daddy and told the girls about how silly he was at the restaurant that morning. They seemed to like the story, but then it got quiet and weird, so I changed the subject to school. Ms. Sweaney had said I’d be starting school in the morning. They all agreed that their teacher, Mrs. Fox, was nice and recess was the best part of the day. They said the food at lunch was okay and they almost never had homework other than some spelling words to memorize. I asked about the other kids in their class and they started acting weird again.
Jenny explained, “The other kids won’t talk to us or play with us because we’re from the home. So Mrs. Fox lets us sit together in class." She shrugged. “You get used to it.”
Karen leaned toward me with her face pinched in anger. “The girls from town whisper and point at us, but we act like we don’t notice." She pushed her sleeves up and gripped the magazine she was holding. "But the meanest person at school is Bobby Davis. He pulls our ponytails and spits on us. And he never gets in trouble for it---ever.”
“I hate him,” Amy grumbled.
“They won’t like you either once they find out you live here." Jenny gave me a hard look and waited for my nod of understanding. "But we’ll be your friends. We promise.” The others agreed.
Before my momma left and we had to move out of our house, I attended school and loved it. Mrs. Reynolds was my teacher and she was super pretty and super nice. She had a piano in her room and on days when everybody behaved she would play and sing songs to us as our reward. She even knew some Beatles songs, and she'd let us sing along. I hugged her every morning when I arrived at school and again before I left to go home for the day. Each student had a piece of paper where she put gold stars for good work and good behavior. I had the most stars in the class with twenty-five. I tried to get Momma to come up to school and meet her. I always thought Mrs. Reynolds would be a good friend to Momma and help her feel better like she did when I fell off the slide and bumped my head, but Momma told me to go away and stay out of her business. I cried for a week when Daddy told me I wouldn’t be going back to school. The whole time we were driving around staying with different people the thing I missed the most was school. It was safe and predictable unlike Momma or traveling.
With a roar from one of the night supervisors, we were told it was time for my group to get ready for bed. We were sent back to our rooms to get our toiletries and then off to the bathroom. Thankfully, I wasn’t expected to shower again. Like everything else there’s a routine to this many girls all doing something at the same time, so I watched and followed along.
I was sharing a sink with Karen when she warned with a mouthful of toothpaste, “Always use the potty last. Johnny, the late night supervisor, is really creepy. None of us leaves the room after lights out.” She spit, rinsed, and whispered, “Every once in a while an older girl will run away, but nobody can prove that it wasn’t Johnny that got her. When we go back to the room, he’s usually waiting outside our door. You’ll see how scary he is.”
Sure enough, Johnny was standing at the door gaping at us as we walked past. Tall with a pudgy belly, he seemed close to my daddy’s age, early forties. Although he wore the same uniform as everyone else, he looked sloppy like he’d just woke up. Buttons were pushed through the wrong holes in his navy shirt, and his undershirt peeked out where his belt struggled to keep his pants up. Whether he slicked his hair back or it was just greasy, I couldn’t tell, but I could guess.
I kept my head down and tried sneaking by, shielded between Karen and Amy. But he spotted me and drawled, “Hey little girl, I haven’t seen you before. You come out to take a pee after lights out and we’ll get to know each other better. It gets lonely sitting out here all night.” He finished with a wink that made my stomach churn.
Amy, held up behind me, shoved my petrified body through the door. She walked with me to my bed and pleaded, “Never use the bathroom after lights out!”
“I know, Karen already told me.”
“If you have to go, we’ll all go together. He can’t hurt us, if we’re all together.”
I couldn’t help it. The minute the lights went out and all I could hear was the soft breathing of the other girls, I started to cry. I tried not to sniff and used the sheets to wipe my face. I think having the boogie man lurking outside my bedroom door was the last straw. My daddy was gone, my sister was beat up, Ms. Sweaney hated me, and tomorrow I was supposed to start a new school where I already could be certain no one would like me. And I'd met the boogie man, and he was waiting for me in the hall. Tears soaked my pillow as I worked to control my breathing so I didn’t make squeaky crying noises. I focused on the light slipping through the cracks of the door and told myself again and again it would only be a couple of weeks and then Daddy would rescue me.
I didn’t notice when Kimmy slipped out of bed and sidled up next to me. She patted me on the shoulder. I turned and listened as she whispered, “The first couple of nights for new kids are always the worst. You’ll get used to it. Everybody does. Here.” She handed me a wad of lumpy material shaped like an oversized egg. “I made myself a sock puppet stuffed with mismatched socks. Look. I even drew a face on it with a marker. It’s supposed to be a bunny, but I’m not a very good drawer. See, its ears aren't right," she giggled softly. "I keep it hidden under my pillow so Ms. Sweaney and the other girls won’t find it. I’ll let you use it, if you want. It might help you feel better like it does me sometimes.”
“I’m okay,” I lied.
“If you change your mind, let me know." She glanced over both shoulders and leaned closer. "But please don’t tell anyone else about my bunny or about my hiding place, either. They might tease me, or worse... take it.”
I nodded and she crept back to bed.
I must have fallen asleep soon after, because I woke with a start as the shadow of a person sneaked toward me in the dark. I knew right away it wasn’t Kimmy again or one of the other girls, because the shape was too big and moving from the direction of the door. I pulled the covers up over my head and prayed I’d tricked whoever it was into thinking my body was just a bump in the blanket. Then I heard the intruder whisper, “Lily, you’re not fooling anybody. Scoot over so I can get
under those covers too.”
“Dani.” I sat up and moved to give her room to climb in next to me. She laid down, and I clung to her like we were falling and she was my parachute. My head was on her shoulder and my tears wet her nightgown. This time she didn’t scold me for crying. I think she may have even joined me, but she’d never admit it.
At our old house, Dani and I shared a room and a mattress on the floor. Daddy called it our shotgun house and Momma called it a bad word that also starts with "sh." All the rooms were lined up one right after the other: the living room, my parents' room, me and Dani's room, and the kitchen. Because Momma needed the most rest, the walls and windows in her room were painted black. Every time I walked through it felt like I'd crawled out of a hole. I would've liked to sprint my way in and out, but Momma didn't do much cleaning and I was forced to pick through the mess so I wouldn't trip. It was one of those rooms that feels wrong and dangerous like an old cellar. It's no wonder that at 18 months I kept climbing out of my crib in the middle of the night. Daddy found me curled up with Dani every time.
So there I stayed and became her responsibility. She'd play with me like the living doll I was, tending to all my real and made-up needs. She bathed me, dressed me, entertained me, and fed me. I'd never known anything different.
Anytime Momma was around or awake, Dani and I would stay hidden in our room. It seemed the safest place from her crazy moods. On nice days, we’d jump out the window rather than disturb her by leaving through a door. Dani made up adventures for us like the ones she’d read in her Nancy Drew books, and I followed along like a puppy. Then when Daddy returned home from work he’d come find us, and we’d help him make dinner.
Dani cleared her throat. “I came here to get some sleep, not take a bath.”
“How did you get in here with that creepy Johnny guy out there on watch?”
“I have my ways. Don't worry about it and don’t try and come to me. I'll come to you. Got it." Her grip on my arm tightened until I agreed. "I’ll try and get in here every night if I can. Let’s get some sleep. We start school tomorrow, and I want to look good.”
I woke the next morning to our door thrown open and all the lights flipped on which was as jarring as walking out of a movie theater after sneaking into a matinee. Instinct told me to cover my eyes, and as I pulled at my blanket I realized Dani was gone. My brain took its time sorting out my location, rewinding through the drama.
Kimmy skipped to me with her long yellow hair bouncing along and chirped, “Today you start school. We need to get ready before breakfast. Come on.”
Jenny, Karen, and Amy weren’t far behind, and they tutored me through the morning ritual. No one mentioned hearing me cry or seeing my sister in our room last night and I was grateful. Had I gotten away with it, or were my friends just being nice? Kimmy gave me lots of big smiles, but I couldn’t tell if that was because she knew my secret, or because I knew hers. My sister and her friends sat with us at breakfast and this time nobody seemed surprised. I felt dazed from a lack of sleep and all that had happened in the last 24 hours. The oatmeal was gummy and hard to swallow, but I discovered that wasn't the only reason my group was the last to leave the dining hall.
Karen sprung from her seat and called, "Let's go."
I was already in the habit of following these girls so I jumped up too. We dumped our goopy scraps in the trashcan, stacked our trays, and scampered off in the direction of the activity room. I asked, "What are we doing?" and was hushed with a force far louder than my words. I took the hint and became a silent participant.
We stopped in front of the window facing the front of the home and looked down. I spotted the top of Ms. Sweaney's head with her hairspray stiffened hair, arranged to hide a bald spot, and saw girls gathering to cross the street to school.
"It's clear," Jenny announced and took off running again.
I still had no idea what was going on, but apparently it was now safe to make noise as giggles accompanied the tapping of shoes through the winding halls. We halted in front of the office, bent over with big smiles and caught our breath. I quickly recognized the purpose of our mission as Mrs. Jones emerged with arms open wide.
Karen got to her first burying her face in Mrs. Jones’ sweater. The others squeezed in where they could. I held up outside the group feeling awkward, but when Karen finished her turn and Mrs. Jones motioned me in, I couldn’t resist. She still smelled like lavender and her sweater felt soft against my cheek. She offered up the comfort I needed in order to face the next hitch this place threw at me. I hadn’t noticed that the other girls had let go.
Mrs. Jones stroked my hair and her wrinkles increased with her smile. “Ah Lily, I see you’ve found yourself some good friends already. I hope they asked you to join their club.”
I stepped back embarrassed and aware that I’d been clinging to her. I couldn’t find my voice.
Karen answered for me. “We asked Lily to be in our club right away and she said yes. We’re all best friends now. Could you find her some more shirts? She needs a pink one, a yellow one, a purple one, and a white one too. “
Mrs. Jones rested her hands on Karen's shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “I’ll make it a priority." Then she spun her toward the door. "Now you girls run along before you-know-who sees us. Have a good day at school. Good luck today, Lily.”
Energized by the morning mission, we ran off to catch up with the others as they filed out the doors I had first entered yesterday. This room didn’t seem as frightening when facing the exit. My first night in a strange place was behind me which meant I was one day closer to being with Daddy again. I was feeling okay, but I couldn’t see over the taller girls' heads at what was waiting for me.
Ms. Sweaney, stationed on the front steps, was inspecting each girl as she walked past commenting on clothing, hair, cleanliness, and attitude. Everyone appeared to have something they could improve on. When it was my turn she scolded, “Did you brush your hair? It looks like a rat’s nest.” And that fast, the boost of strength Mrs. Jones’ kindness had given me was gone.
3
"Duck!"
Splat
"Oooh." For the third time in less than an hour, Bobby Davis hit his mark, me. He was as horrible as my friends warned, day after day shooting me with spit wads until it appeared I'd been rolling in Styrofoam. Because my short hair didn’t allow for the usual ponytail pulling, he changed his tactic, using my curls to support the weight of slimy paper scraps. I told on Bobby, but our teacher, Mrs. Fox, said she didn't witness the crime, and so the most she agreed to do was move our seats to the back where I had the good fortune of seeing the slobbery missiles coming---sometimes.
The girls from town were the worst. Their ammunition of choice was words. I told myself I didn’t want or need their friendship. I wanted to be invisible to them like I was with Momma. So I tried eating more than I wanted, hoping that would put some meat on my bones and give them one less thing to gossip about, but mostly it made me sick. I also tried patting water on my hair to help tame my curls. I didn’t pass a sink or fountain without sticking my hand in. I thought it was working. But they noticed and twisted my behavior into a story about not having a shower at the home so I washed in the water fountain at school. Finally, my friends convinced me that it was no use; there’d always be something for the town girls to tease me about and I’d be better off using my energy to avoid them rather than please them. However, ignoring them wasn’t enough to get them to stop. It made their games more cruel. Rumors started about why I was left at the home. Each more hurtful than the last: my parents didn’t want me because I was too ugly, my parents were bank robbers, my parents were murderers, my parents were dead. It got to the point where being at school was so awful that time at the home was a relief.
A couple of months had passed and there was still no word from Daddy. While I was starting to worry about his absence, my friends believed it was sign of great things. Jenny believed it meant my daddy had a really important job and ha
d to travel all over the world. Karen was sure Daddy was busy making a movie in Hollywood and sometimes that took a long time, because things never went right on a movie set. And Amy tried to convince me that Daddy was busy building a really big house and wanted to have it all decorated and ready before he picked me up. As usual, Dani was no help. She’d roll her eyes when she overheard me telling stories about silly things Daddy did, and she wouldn’t answer any of my questions when she snuck in the room at night to sleep. Focusing on the fact that a promise was a promise and Daddy had never broken a promise to me, I stayed hopeful.
With all the structure of living in the home and going to school, time flew. Ms. Sweaney preached that keeping us busy would keep us out of trouble, and that cleanliness was akin to godliness. So every weekend the entire home was given a good scrubbing that kept us working until dinner time. At night, we looked at the magazines Mrs. Jones snuck us. We especially liked looking at pictures of celebrities. Karen could find a resemblance between her and any one of them and that kept the mystery of her parents' identity a number one priority for our club.
What I missed most about weekends was snuggling with Daddy in front of the TV on Saturday mornings and watching cartoons. His favorite was always Road Runner. Daddy had a great big laugh and every time that coyote was blown up he’d let out a whoop. One night at dinner I was talking about my favorite cartoon characters to the other girls when Dani interrupted, “Lily, everybody knows Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck. Why are you boring them with this stuff?”
The Blueprint Page 3