Just Like That

by Gary D. Schmidt

  “What do you mean, ‘gone’?” she said.

  The word was almost impossibly hard to say.

  Matt shrugged. “I don’t know what happened to my parents. And Georgie—they knifed him.”

  “Matt—”

  “They killed him, Meryl Lee. That’s why I ran. And that’s all I can tell you, since—”

  “It’s all right,” she said. “It’s all right.”

  And Matt slumped farther down into his seat, and pulled his hood close over his face, and Meryl Lee glared over at the passenger with the full shopping bag until she turned away, and she put her head on Matt’s shoulder, and he leaned his head against hers, and they each thought exactly the same thing: this is what I have right now, and maybe it won’t last—or maybe it will—but it’s what I have right now.

  * * *

  At the bus station in Bath, they waited until the driver got out to open the luggage bins beneath the bus—and they waited while the passenger with the full shopping bag pulled and tugged at the stupid shopping bag until she finally hefted it down—and when they got off, they scooted around the front of the bus and back down the other side so that the driver would not see them, and got into the station, where Mrs. Connolly was waiting for Meryl Lee.

  She looked at her watch.

  “You’re almost fifteen minutes late,” she said, as if this were somehow Meryl Lee’s fault.

  “I’m sorry,” said Meryl Lee.

  “Sorry doesn’t bring back fifteen minutes. Come along.”

  “Your suitcase,” whispered Matt.

  “Oh.” Meryl Lee stopped. “Mrs. Connolly, I’m so sorry, but I have to get—”

  Mrs. Connolly waved her hand at her. “You should have thought about that when you got off the bus.” She looked at Matt. “Perhaps you were otherwise occupied.”

  Meryl Lee ran to get her suitcase.

  Matt stood with Mrs. Connolly in the Bath bus station.

  They did not speak.

  When Meryl Lee came back with the suitcase, Matt took it and lugged it to Mrs. Connolly’s car. It really was snowing hard now, and by the time Matt had hefted the suitcase into the trunk, snow was already covering his hood.

  “Mrs. Connolly, can we drive Matt to St. Elene’s as well?” said Meryl Lee.

  “We can when I am employed as a taxi service,” said Mrs. Connolly. “Please get in. We’re already much later than I had expected.” She got into the car.

  “I guess I’ll see you around,” said Matt.

  “You okay?”

  He nodded, and then he pulled back his hood, leaned over, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Okay,” he said.

  She put her hand up to her face, smiled at him, then got into the car with Mrs. Connolly.

  Matt watched them drive away. He pulled his hood back up, though his face was warm enough.

  Warmer than it had been for a long time.

  “Matt Coffin,” someone called.

  He looked around quickly.

  “Looks like you might need a lift,” said Lieutenant Minot.

  Twenty-Four

  That night, snow covered the grounds of St. Elene’s Preparatory Academy for Girls, and the wind swept the drifts into sharp waves, sculpting small pagodas all along the poisoned wall. In the morning, ridges of snow bulged off the eaves of Putnam Library and along the ledges below the stained windows of Newell Chapel. Across the commons the snow was knee deep. Everything was white and bright and cold.

  But at breakfast, the inside of Greater Hoxne Hall looked as cozy as you could possibly imagine, with its warm wood and yellow stained glass and deep red carpets and all the teachers gathered to greet their returning students, and all of them seemed happy, really happy, to have their students back. Mrs. Mott said, “So, Miss Kowalski, shall we see what mayhem we can foment in the new year?” (Meryl Lee hoped this was a joke.) Coach Rowlandson asked if Meryl Lee had been keeping up with her wind sprints, and when Meryl Lee looked a bit confused, Coach Rowlandson reminded her that spring meant soccer season! Mrs. Hibbard took Meryl Lee’s face in her hands, hugged her, and didn’t say anything at all. Mrs. Bellamy asked, “Are you ready to dissect a fetal pig or two this semester?” (Meryl Lee hoped this was a joke too.) Mrs. Wyss wore an apron splotched with powdered sugar. (Meryl Lee wondered if this was supposed to be some sort of signal to her, after her second quarter evaluation.) And the Awful Dignity was there, presiding—at least, for another few months.

  She said, “Are you all right, Miss Kowalski?”

  And Meryl Lee suddenly knew, suddenly and absolutely knew, that Dr. MacKnockater understood everything that had happened to her over Christmas vacation.

  “I’m not sure,” said Meryl Lee.

  “No,” said Dr. MacKnockater. “Of course you wouldn’t be.” She took Meryl Lee’s hands in her own. “The biggest Obstacles are the ones that come closest to our hearts.”

  “How did you know?” she said.

  “Your parents told me when you first came. One reason they brought you here was so you would not see firsthand what they did not want you to see. Not after your other loss.”

  Meryl Lee nodded. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure she would be able to stop what was coming. She squeezed Dr. MacKnockater’s hands, but it was still coming.

  And then she couldn’t stop it.

  She couldn’t.

  Even though she was right there in the middle of Greater Hoxne Hall.

  Dr. MacKnockater took her shoulders and led her to a little room, where they sat on little needlepointed chairs, by a little cherry table, in a little alcove with high windows that looked out over the commons. And Dr. MacKnockater gave her a tissue and she waited until Meryl Lee was still.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” said Meryl Lee finally.

  “It was not my place, Meryl Lee. Your parents were to tell you.”

  “But you could have prepared me for it.”

  Dr. MacKnockater leaned forward.

  “That is exactly what we have been trying to do.”

  “How?”

  Dr. MacKnockater leaned forward even more. “Resolution and Accomplishment, my dear.”

  “But I’m not Accomplished in anything.”

  “I would say you are already becoming quite Accomplished.” Meryl Lee looked at Dr. MacKnockater—sort of. It was a pretty watery look.

  “In what?”

  “If you have not discovered that for yourself by the end of the semester, I will tell you,” said Dr. MacKnockater. “But perhaps this may lead you in the right direction: You gave Matthew Coffin a great gift yesterday.”

  “A gift?”

  “You trusted him. That is a great gift, Meryl Lee. One of the greatest gifts anyone can give.”

  “He’s in trouble, but he wouldn’t tell me why.”

  “He could not trust you with knowledge . . . knowledge that he is hardly willing to share even with me. And yet, despite that, you helped him when he needed it.”

  “Dr. MacKnockater, anyone would.”

  But she shook her head. “Miss Kowalski, that is not so. It is the rather rare person who would. And now, I have told you enough. And I’m afraid that if I delay you any longer, you will either miss breakfast entirely or be late for Mrs. Connolly’s American Literary Masterpieces class.”

  * * *

  Meryl Lee didn’t miss breakfast entirely, but she was almost late for American Literary Masterpieces. Mrs. Connolly was just closing the classroom door when Meryl Lee stopped her. She opened the door wide enough for her to come in, then shut it—decisively. “Miss Kowalski,” she said, “I’d like to see you in my office directly after class.”

  Meryl Lee nodded.

  “Excuse me,” said Mrs. Connolly. “I did not hear a proper response.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Connolly. Yes, I’ll come to your office after class.”

  She sat next to Marian, who whispered, “Is everything all right?”

  Heidi leaned over. “You can borrow my field hockey stick if you need to.”r />
  “I’m not going to need your field hockey stick,” said Meryl Lee.

  “You never know,” said Heidi.

  * * *

  Meryl Lee followed Mrs. Connolly to her office. Mrs. Connolly set her books down upon her glass-top desk and sat behind it.

  “So, here we are again, Miss Kowalski,” she said. “Sit down, please.” A command.

  Meryl Lee sat down. The chair was cold.

  “As we are starting a new semester, it seems to me the appropriate time to suggest that you reconsider some elements of your conduct at this school. I say this to you with all goodwill and hope for your continued success at St. Elene’s.”

  “My conduct?”

  “I refer to your continued association with those who should be outside the orbit of a girl of character who is attending St. Elene’s.”

  The temperature in the room dropped by about twenty-five degrees.

  Meryl Lee felt herself fill with Resolution. She sensed that something was about to happen, something she had never done.

  “Who do you mean?” she said.

  “I might begin with the young man you were with when I picked you up at the bus station.”

  “I was with Matt on the bus, but we didn’t meet on purpose.”

  “Perhaps, but this was the same young man who created mayhem at the Christmas soiree. Did you also not meet ‘on purpose’ then?”

  “He was protecting me.”

  “That is not how the headmaster of St. Giles’s imagines the episode.”

  “Then imagines is the right word.”

  Mrs. Connolly sighed and sat back in her chair.

  “I have never once found verbal cleverness to be impressive, Miss Kowalski, particularly from a student. I am taking the time to warn you against unfortunate connections, connections that are not appropriate between you as a student at this school and those who are not part of the community. The repeated connection with this boy is one. The repeated association with kitchen workers at St. Elene’s is another.”

  “Do you mean Bettye?”

  “Bettye Buckminster is a servant at St. Elene’s, not one of your peers.”

  “Mrs. Connolly,” said Meryl Lee, “Bettye Buckminster is one of the only people here who talks to me.”

  “The solution to your perceived isolation is not a kitchen worker. It is reaching out to girls of a similar station to your own,” said Mrs. Connolly.

  “Who I choose for my friend isn’t any of your business,” said Meryl Lee.

  “It is hardly for you to determine the business of a member of the faculty—and it is very much my business. An education at St. Elene’s involves the entire girl, Miss Kowalski—not just the intellect but also social and moral and emotional spheres of experience.”

  Meryl Lee felt herself shaking. “I think I had better go,” she said.

  “And I point out that the result of your associations is that you have been leaving the grounds of St. Elene’s without permission. Am I correct in this?”

  “I guess I should have asked permission,” said Meryl Lee.

  “Yes, you should have.” Mrs. Connolly adjusted herself in her seat. “I am not headmistress yet,” she said. “But if I were, I would most certainly have denied the request. Leaving the grounds without permission is a violation of our expectations. Continued violations would eventually lead to expulsion.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Connolly.” Meryl Lee stood up to go.

  “Sit down, please, Miss Kowalski.”

  They looked at each other across the glass desktop. Obstacles, Meryl Lee thought. Obstacles.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Connolly,” said Meryl Lee. “I really do think I had better go.”

  Mrs. Connolly stood.

  Meryl Lee turned and left.

  She wished she had been holding Heidi’s field hockey stick—but it was a good thing for the glass desktop she wasn’t.

  * * *

  The next day, Meryl Lee was called to the office of the headmistress.

  She was starting to get used to being called to faculty offices.

  Everything in Dr. MacKnockater’s office was old—including Dr. MacKnockater, of course.

  A flintlock hung above a brick fireplace, and the bricks were black from smoke. Someone had bound most of the books in Dr. MacKnockater’s office with dark leather sometime before the American Revolution. Birch logs were heaped inside the old fireplace, and in front of them lay a long hinged box of very dark wood, ornately carved. The pine floorboards were almost two feet wide, and they were worn down in front of Dr. MacKnockater’s desk—probably where centuries of students had stood before they were beheaded and impaled on the wall around St. Elene’s. When she saw Meryl Lee looking at the desk, Dr. MacKnockater said that it had once belonged to Robespierre.

  “Robespierre?” Meryl Lee said.

  “He reigned in France during the Terror.” Dr. MacKnockater ran her hand across the top. “I imagine he signed quite a few death warrants right here.”

  This was not a good beginning.

  “Mrs. Connolly has written to me regarding your interview with her yesterday,” Dr. MacKnockater said. “She complained of a certain arrogance. Do you know what Mrs. Connolly meant?”

  Meryl Lee took a deep breath.

  Dr. MacKnockater waited patiently.

  “Dr. MacKnockater,” she said, “in your Chapel talks, you encourage us to think independently and to have the courage to follow the path our reason and intelligence tell us to follow, especially when our hearts affirm the path. You say we should not let others decide for us and to test the world to see if we are meeting it in ways that are right and true and good. You say confronting Obstacles requires the courage of Resolution.”

  Dr. MacKnockater still waiting patiently.

  “I’m trying to confront Obstacles,” she said.

  Still waiting.

  “I don’t mean to be arrogant.”

  Dr. MacKnockater leaned forward over Robespierre’s desk.

  “Miss Kowalski,” she said, “next year, Mrs. Connolly will be headmistress of St. Elene’s Preparatory Academy for Girls. It is unpleasant not to have a friend in the headmistress.”

  Meryl Lee nodded. She understood.

  “However,” Dr. MacKnockater said, “you have one now.”

  Meryl Lee understood that, too.

  * * *

  On Saturday, Marian and Heidi and Meryl Lee walked across the commons. Near Newell, a bunch of lower school kids were shrieking and throwing snowballs at one another, even though the snow was so powdery that the snowballs disintegrated in midair. Julia Chall, Barbara Rockcastle, and Elizabeth Koertge were trying to roll a snowman into existence, and laughing as it fell apart. And on the far side of the commons, Mrs. Hibbard was heading over to Putnam, carrying a bag bulging with bright yellow wool.

  As they neared the gates in the poison-ivied wall, Marian asked if they had permission to leave the grounds of St. Elene’s.

  Meryl Lee paused.

  “Did anyone tell us not to go for a walk?” said Heidi.

  “I think we’re not supposed to go without telling someone,” said Marian.

  They looked at Meryl Lee.

  “Marian,” said Meryl Lee, “I’m going off the grounds this morning.”

  “Um, okay,” said Marian.

  “Are you?”

  “I guess,” said Marian.

  “Good,” said Meryl Lee. “Now you and I have told someone, and the only one to get in trouble will be Heidi.”

  “Hey, wait . . .”

  “Let’s go,” said Meryl Lee, feeling an Obstacle slip away.

  They walked past the turnoff to Dr. MacKnockater’s house— I shouldn’t visit without an invitation, Meryl Lee thought, but she wondered what Matt was doing—and they turned down a street that headed toward the water, and soon they could see the docks and their moored boats, the masts bobbing in the bright air. It was cold, and Meryl Lee held her arms around herself as they stepped onto the pier. She was hal
f looking for Matt—well, maybe more than half looking—and they passed several of the lobster boats until they came to Affliction. So when Matt Coffin looked up from winding the ropes, he was sort of startled to see her staring down at him.

  And suddenly, there was Captain Hurd.

  “Miss Kowalski,” he said. “And you are . . .”

  “Heidi Kidder,” said Heidi.

  “Marian Elders,” said Marian.

  “Elders, Kidder, and Kowalski,” said Captain Hurd. “Sounds like a law firm.”

  Matt smiled a little and looked away.

  It wasn’t hard to figure out what he was smiling about.

  When he looked back up, brushing his hair against the wind, the Captain reminded him to pay attention to the ropes he was winding.

  “And how is Dr. MacKnockater these days?” asked the Captain.

  “Did you know she isn’t going to be headmistress next year?” said Meryl Lee.

  Captain Hurd turned to help Matt with the ropes.

  “Someone on the board of trustees doesn’t like something she said in public. Maybe something political. So really, she’s being forced to resign.”

  “You think she’s resigning because the trustees want her to?” Captain Hurd said.

  “Why else?” said Meryl Lee.

  “You think that sounds like something that Nora MacKnockater would do?”

  And it didn’t take long for Meryl Lee to figure out that no, it didn’t at all sound like something that Nora MacKnockater would do.

  It didn’t sound like her at all.

  “So why else?” said Heidi.

  “She would have her reasons,” said Captain Hurd. “Do we know who the next headmistress will be?”

  “Mrs. Connolly,” said Marian.

  “Mrs. Connolly?” said Captain Hurd. “Sharp-arsed Agatha Connolly?”

  All three girls nodded. Heidi laughed.