“Well, Jenny and Amy were little last time they saw cartoons. And Karen says she can't remember the last time the TV in the activity room was turned on.”
Dani's friends confirmed that since Ms. Sweaney had taken over as director the TV hadn't been touched. They couldn't be certain it even worked anymore.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when the next weekend the cleaning closet was found empty of all its supplies. With her routine interrupted, Ms. Sweaney was flustered and sent us all to the activity room while she investigated. At first, we stood around not knowing what to do with our freedom. But Dani did. She walked right to the TV, plugged it in, and flipped it on. I heard the familiar pop and sizzle that signaled a working television. My sister adjusted the rabbit ears as she turned the knob to find the right station. The youngest girls were scrambling for the closest seats while the oldest offered their laps. As the black and white screen revealed what were thought to be lost friends, our imaginations filled in the colors. We were left to ourselves that entire morning while the director and her staff searched every inch of the home for the missing stuff.
That was the first of many pranks in which I’m certain my sister was involved. On spaghetti night, all the flatware disappeared. It was easy to tell when Ms. Sweaney was mad because not only did her face flush hot, but sweat would pool on her upper lip and chin. She stood with hands on her hips, glaring at the empty utensil holders, willing the missing items to appear. We stood lined up at her right side ready to start dinner. Scanning the line, she stopped when she got to Dani, and yelled, “Eat with your hands then!”
Our trays full, we all began to carefully eat. I pinched one noodle at a time, lifted it over my mouth, and laid it on my tongue. Karen watched me and challenged, “Try this.” She placed her hands on either side of her tray, leaned into the mound of spaghetti with her nose making contact first, and slurped. She looked up covered in red sauce and opened her mouth to show me her catch. I looked at Jenny who looked at Amy and together we accepted the challenge. Kimmy’s giggles drew everyone’s attention and before we knew it all the girls were covered in sauce up to their eyebrows.
A week later the outside of the home was hit by toilet paper phantoms. Whoever they were had good throwing arms. There was toilet paper in the giant oak trees out front that couldn’t be reached with the tallest ladders. Ms. Sweaney fumed every morning with the embarrassment of scraps still in those trees. She was so focused on the unreachable aggravation that she forgot to taunt us as we passed by for school. The phantoms were worshiped as heroes for this break from the director's morning attacks. And each week when a new prank followed like a holiday surprise the sadness of the place lifted a little more.
The day everything with plugs was found unplugged and Ms. Sweaney’s desk chair was discovered on the front lawn, Mrs. Jones asked me to stay behind after the secret mission to talk. She told me that Ms. Sweaney suspected Dani of causing all the recent trouble. She said, “So far Dani hasn’t done anything that warranted calling the police, but Ms. Sweaney won’t hesitate to call them if she does. I’ve never seen her this angry. Tell Dani to be careful.”
I imagined the worst that whole day at school, Dani in a jail cell and me all alone. I wanted to give her the warning at dinner that night, but Ms. Sweaney was stalking us like prey waiting for an opportunity to strike. Fear for Dani kept me awake until she joined me in bed. I waited for her to settle in next to me and whispered, “Mrs. Jones wants me to tell you that Ms. Sweaney knows it’s you doing the pranks. Ms. Sweaney’s mad and out to get you.“
“Pranks. What pranks?”
“I might be younger than you, but I’m not stupid, Dani." I didn't try hiding my tears or my shaky voice. "Ms. Sweaney has never liked us and I’m afraid of what might happen if you get caught.”
“Fine. I’ll play nice for a while, but you have to agree it’s been fun watching that witch suffer. And have you seen how the other girls look at me now? They love me.”
She was right. All the girls were in awe of her. It was like she was royalty. Because I was her little sister, I got the same treatment. It was easy to forget that only a couple of months ago Lisa had threatened to beat my brains in, because now she oozed with kindness. She obviously idolized Dani and maneuvered to get to my sister by befriending me, and she wasn’t the only one. This wasn’t anything I hadn’t seen before, but this was the first time I had to live with her devoted followers and stomach their worship all the time. As long as I was feeling the benefits, I didn’t complain.
Even though the pranks stopped, Ms. Sweaney was paranoid. She spent all of her time hunting the halls for suspects, looking for clues, and counting heads. And as her eyes receded further into their sockets, the red puffy rings that grew counted her sleepless nights like the circles of a tree shows its age. More rules were introduced regarding where we could be and when we could be there. We had to ask permission and have an adult escort us to the bathroom at unscheduled times. An extra night supervisor was hired. And twice in the middle of the night the doors were flung open while in pursuit of outlaws.
Dani still slipped into to bed with me, and when I asked her how she was getting away with it, she answered without concern, “It’s taken care of.” I wondered how long things could continue like this before Ms. Sweaney went berserk and/or Dani was caught.
In a cruel twist, I got caught first.
Ms. Sweaney had switched up her morning routine in hopes of catching the villain unaware. Instead, she happened upon me, Jenny, Karen, Amy, and Kimmy on our regular morning visit with Mrs. Jones.
“What’s this?” she asked with an evil smirk that clearly showed her excitement at finding us.
Mrs. Jones' hands made fists as she stepped between us and the director. “I was running an errand when I saw them on their way out and wanted to wish the girls a good morning.” She nudged us toward the door and away from Ms. Sweaney. “Go on, girls, hurry along and have a good day at school.”
“Just one more minute, please. It seems odd that all of you would be this far from the front entrance, if in fact you were headed that way. Kimberly, tell me, did you take a wrong turn this morning while headed out for school?”
Without the slightest idea that Ms. Sweaney had just set us up, Kimmy confided, “Oh, no Ms. Sweaney, we come this way every morning to hug Mrs. Jones. We’re not lost.”
Ms. Sweaney’s cold smile grew as she thanked Kimmy and sent us on our way. We only went as far as the next corner so we could hear, but not be seen, as Ms. Sweaney confronted Mrs. Jones. “I have told you time and time again to stop coddling these girls. They don’t need your affection. They need structure and discipline."
“But they’re only little girls," Mrs. Jones argued. "I was trying...”
“I realize that the last director gave you the freedom to play grandmother to these children." Her already strained voice rose to a shout. "It infuriated me then, and it infuriates me now. You are nothing to them, and they are nothing to you. You’ll do things my way or you’re fired. This nonsense stops today! Have I made myself clear?”
We'd heard enough and dragged ourselves off to school. None of us wanted to be responsible for getting Mrs. Jones in any more trouble. We all knew we’d received our last hugs from her. But we didn’t know that our actions would cause such a disastrous chain reaction.
Kimmy cried the entire walk to school. A smile from Kimmy could warm a person straight through, and I learned that day that her cry had the opposite effect. I didn’t know how to make her feel better, when I felt just as awful. I couldn’t be mad at her for telling Ms. Sweaney the truth. If she had called on me, I probably wouldn’t have been able to lie our way out of that situation either. Moping through the day, we didn’t even try to shield ourselves from the shower of spit wads that greeted us. We spoke little during recess or lunch. None of us seemed to have the strength to pretend that everything was okay. Each of us felt the loss.
By dinner time, word had spread that we had gotten Mrs. Jones in trouble, and we wer
e met with angry glares. My royal status wasn’t helping me any this time. Apparently, Mrs. Jones was important to all the girls, and I wondered if others went on secret missions to spend time with her too. We’d ruined things for everyone. I told Dani the whole story under my breath while Ms. Sweaney hovered, and she promised to help smooth things over for us.
Later in the activity room, we studied our spelling words and skimmed magazines, but gloominess blurred our concentration. Even in Ms. Sweaney's absence, no one perked up. Time passed slowly like it always does when playing the waiting game. Right before we were called to get ready for bed, Ms. Sweaney entered with Johnny and the new night watchman.
She walked to the front of the room, braced her spine, and announced, “Girls! Girls! Listen up! I need your attention, please!" She waited for quiet, scowling at the last group to obey. "I have a situation that concerns everyone. As you are all aware, we have a menace living among us who has chosen to create chaos where there should be strict adherence to rules and discipline. Although I have been unable to catch the individual responsible for all the mischief of the last couple of months, I did catch several girls harassing our secretary, Mrs. Jones, this morning. I have decided to publicly punish their ring leader, Lillian Simmons, to illustrate to all the consequences of disregarding the rules.”
My stomach soured at hearing my name. I’d be the sacrificial lamb she’d been searching the halls for. If she couldn’t catch Dani, I was second best. With that awareness, I almost felt brave. I could do this for my sister, for my friends. Then I saw the wood paddle Ms. Sweaney handed a stranger and I went limp.
“Come here, Lillian, and accept your punishment, twenty swats for my troubles, administered by the new night watchman, Hank.”
Hank was huge. His arms were the size of a grown man’s thighs and his chest looked too thick to fit through a truck tire. Smiling at his introduction, he flashed black front teeth in beet colored gums as Johnny escorted me to his lap.
Dani jumped up. “Leave her alone! Don’t touch her!”
Johnny pushed me at Hank and grabbed Dani. He hooked her around the waist and carried her out of the room as she kicked and hollered. The door slammed shut behind him and the last word I heard was her begging, “Please!”
Hank shoved me face down across his legs and rested his beefy arm over my neck. The room fell silent and Ms. Sweaney addressed her stunned audience, “Pay close attention, girls, or you’ll be next.”
I know I cried. I’m sure I screamed. But I only remember counting seven swats before I blacked out. I woke up in my own bed with Jenny, Karen, and Amy staring down at me. I could hear Kimmy's muffled weeping close by, and the pain pulsing through my backside was more horrible than anything I’d ever known. My first thought as the world came back into focus was to know how much longer? How much longer would I have to be afraid? How much longer would I have to be strong? How much longer until Daddy came for me?
“Be still, Lily. Hank hit you hard and you’ll be black and blue for a while,” Jenny warned.
Amy said, “I’m just glad he stopped at ten swats. Ms. Sweaney wanted him to keep going to twenty, but when he noticed you’d fainted, he wouldn’t do it anymore. He’s the one that brought you to bed.”
My throat was dry and my voice sounded weak. “Where’s my sister? What happened to her?”
Jenny answered, “We haven’t seen her since Johnny dragged her out of the room. Maybe together we can ask him about her, after we get ready for bed. Do you think you can walk?”
I never appreciated how important my butt muscles were until I felt the agony of each step. Amy took my arm to help and confided, “My parents used to beat me a lot, but depending on how badly bruised you are the worst of the pain should be gone in a couple of days. It won’t leave a permanent mark like cigarettes do. We’ll tell Mrs. Fox that you slipped and fell and that’s why you’re walking funny. Nobody has to know the truth.”
Daddy never hit us, and Momma was too lazy to bother. She saved up all her energy for railing at Daddy. After Dani and I were supposed to be asleep in bed, we’d listen at the door to their arguments. Money seemed to be the thing that set her off the most often. In her opinion, there was never enough. Daddy would try to defend himself by pointing out that he was already working two jobs and was always on the lookout for something better. She’d yell back that he had promised her a big house, a fancy car, and nice clothes before they got married, and had followed through with none of it. She hated her life and it was all his fault. Then she’d throw stuff at him, and he’d storm out. Sometimes, after Daddy left, she’d come flying through our bedroom door and start bawling at us about how worthless our father was, and ended her fit by saying she hated us just as much and wished we had never been born.
My friends were doing their best to ease my pain by helping me get ready for bed, but I knew the physical beating I’d just experienced was nothing compared to the venom Momma hit me with at home. I was more worried about my sister than I was about how long it’d be until I could walk normally again.
Johnny wouldn’t answer our questions about Dani. He wouldn’t even look at us. My aching bottom kept me awake most of the night so I knew Dani never slipped into my room. She didn’t show up at breakfast either, and her friends hadn’t seen her since the incident in the activity room. I wanted so badly to see Mrs. Jones and ask for her help, but running to her was what started this mess in the first place. Thankfully, Ms. Sweaney said nothing to me during her morning inspection. At school, my friends were quick to answer questions about my funny walk. Most kids just laughed at me while the adults seemed uninterested. Caught between pain and worry, the day passed in a blur.
Dani arrived at dinner that night looking like the losing opponent of a boxing match. Seeing her all beat up again reminded me of our first day here and what had happened in the showers. My stomach knotted and tears rolled down my cheeks as my responsibility in her beating choked me.
Dani grabbed my hand hard under the table and commanded, “Stop that right now. Don’t you see that’s what she wants? When we give up, she wins. Knowing she’d won would hurt worse than any beating she could give me.” She lightened her grip and softened her tone. “Are you hurt bad?”
“I’ll be okay.”
She never offered any details of what happened to her that night and day she went missing. But whatever occurred didn’t keep her from acting out more. War had been declared between Ms. Sweaney and Dani. Even though everyone had to know Dani couldn’t win, the other girls egged her on.
In Ms. Sweaney’s earshot, Dani would fling insults, but leave the subject's identity secret. Scarecrow, Frankenstein, Dog Face were only a few of the nicknames assigned to Ms. Sweaney. Dani would mention in the director’s presence how Dog Face was too ugly to marry, Scarecrow had the grace of a cow, and Frankenstein would always be alone. Ms. Sweaney pretended not to notice the comments and snickers, but we knew Dani’s bullets hit their mark. She’d always been good at being mean, but I’d never seen her take it so far.
Her rage toward Ms. Sweaney ruled her. It was all she thought about and all she talked about. What started as an exciting game to see how much Dani could get away with fizzled when Ms. Sweaney ignored the insults as if she knew this was her best course of revenge. And it worked. Dani’s audience shrunk more each day and even her closest friends started to distance themselves. She was trapped under the weight of her hate and was quickly destroying the popularity she cared so much about.
I begged her to stop. I begged her to let it go. She ignored my pleas with the stubborn response, “I won’t let her win.”
4
Spring arrived not a moment too soon. The mood inside the home had become unbearable, so much so that Ms. Sweaney allowed us the privilege of sitting out front after dinner and chores were completed. Watching Dani sitting in the grass talking with a shrinking group of friends, I hoped Daddy would come for us soon, for her sake even more than mine. Seven months had passed since he dropped us off on t
he front steps of the home. I discussed him less and less with my friends, because even they were finding it difficult to imagine excuses for him. His last words to me before we exited the car that day were, “I promise to come back for you when I can.” He always said that it was easier to find work in the spring and summer. I just needed to hold out a little bit longer.
With the warmer temperatures, spirits rose and hemlines shrank. We were invited to rummage through the donated clothes for “new” weather appropriate clothing. That was the closest any of us were getting to real shopping so we couldn’t help but be excited. Although the club had still not agreed on a name, we still followed the rule about wearing the same color on certain days. Each of us had our colored shirt assignments and was ready for the treasure hunt. The storage room looked like a department store had exploded. Apparently the older girls, who “shopped” earlier in the day, went nuts. In some places, the piles of scattered clothing were knee high. It reminded me of looking for the prize at the bottom of a box of Cracker Jacks and all the popcorn left behind spilled and forgotten. Even so, our hard work and determination was rewarded as we left with our booty and big smiles twenty minutes later.
The older girls knew tricks on how to make something that looked shabby appear stylish, accessorizing with scarves, belts, or homemade jewelry. The procession to school often felt like a runway. The older girls strutted by with their heads held high, proud of the outfit they’d put together for themselves. Dani also had a flare for fashion and her focus seemed to change away from Ms. Sweaney and back to her renewed popularity. Ms. Sweaney’s criticism rolled off the girls’ backs. They weren’t about to take advice from her on anything to do with style when it appeared her favorite accessory was starch.
The director began strictly enforcing the skirt length rule. The girl’s skirts had to reach their knees before she’d let them continue on their way. Everyone knew the rule, but it didn’t stop at least a handful of girls each morning from trying to sneak by. Soon enough the girls smartened up, waiting until after inspections and they were out of sight to hike up their skirts.
The Blueprint Page 4