by Marta Acosta
Once inside, I put away my groceries before spreading out all my new clothes on the sofa and chairs. I arranged them in different combinations, figuring out the most useful. I put those away and placed the unnecessary items back in the shopping bags. I watched TV while I slowly ate a Snickers, savoring each tiny bite so it would last a long time.
I reviewed a chapter of my SAT vocabulary book and wrote out the words in sentences like “He has an avuncular mien” and “We were habituated to the pedagogue’s acerbity.” I read them aloud until the words rolled easily off my tongue and I’d memorized the definitions.
It felt like a long day, but when I checked the time, it was only six.
Wilde would be working, but I wanted to talk to her anyway, so I picked up the phone and dialed her number. I got a message that said, “This number is no longer in service,” which wasn’t unusual because she changed numbers whenever cops hassled her. I chewed at a ragged thumbnail as I worried about all the sketchy situations she put herself in.
I’d have to e-mail her and get her new number. The map in the student handbook didn’t show a computer lab, and I couldn’t recall any computers in the library.
The knock on my door startled me.
I went to the front window and peeked through the curtains. Scruffy Jack Radcliffe stood on the porch, holding a pizza box. His bike was propped against the banister.
When I opened the door, he said, “Hey, Jane, thought you might want some chow. I couldn’t find any of your natural diet, shamrocks and moonbeams, so I brought pizza.” He was wearing those old shorts and rusty scabs had formed on his most recent injury. His chest was rising and falling from exertion, but he seemed perfectly comfortable being grubby, sweaty, and uninvited.
Enticing aromas wafted from the box. “Your mother took me to the grocery store today. I have food.”
He walked right by me into the cottage. “I know what my mom’s groceries are like. Full of antioxidants, roughage, and upright moral character.” He glanced around the living room and then went into the kitchen and put the box on the table. “Get plates for us, changeling.” He pulled off his backpack, unzipped it, and took out two cans of root beer.
“You’re making up that word.” The smell of the food overcame my irritation, so I got plates and napkins.
“It’s as real as you are. A changeling is a magical creature who has been raised as a human. But I’m guessing you’re probably a halfling—half human and half magical creature. Which magical creature, I’m not sure. I’m guessing that you’re a pixie, hopefully not one of the evil ones. Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Are you half evil pixie?”
“If you want to say that I’m puny, say it, because I’m used to it. Pipsqueak, pocket pal, peewee, munchkin, midget, Mini Me. I’ve heard it all before.”
“Pixies are also magical beings that are almost human size. Sometimes they’re helpful to people, but sometimes they play tricks. Do you ever hear anyone knocking at your windows at night? Because they do that when they want to take you back to their world.”
His resonant voice drew me in and I had an eerie sensation as I imagined small hands beating against a windowpane.
“Then you’d live with them and never get old. They like music and dancing and pretty ribbons.” He paused to see my reaction, but I kept my face deadpan. “Nope, you don’t strike me as a pretty-ribbons type, Halfling.”
“If you keep calling me that, you might find out if I’m evil or not. You’ve spent too much time playing RPGs and reading Tolkien.”
“Who doesn’t enjoy a good sword battle?” When Jack grinned, his whole face lit up and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Yeah, I’ve read Tolkien, and my mother told us fairy tales every night. I’m an expert on magical creatures and I can recognize one when I see one.”
“Does anyone think you’re funny, Jack?” I twisted my mouth to keep from smiling.
“I do and that’s enough, isn’t it?” He flipped open the lid of the box. The pizza had slid to one side and much of the topping was stuck to the cardboard. He shrugged. “This is why people don’t deliver pizzas by bike.”
We sat down and Jack said, “Mom told me she dragged you clothes shopping. She loves shopping with girls. It kills her that she can’t dress Lucky and me in matching sailor outfits with little white hats.”
As we lifted out slices of the gooey mess, I asked, “What else does your mother like?”
“Besides her family? Her girls.” He pitched his voice higher, mimicking her. “A Birch Grove girl is an exceptional girl.”
He waited to see if I’d play along. I stared right back into his wide green eyes. They were the moss color of the school’s pond, with bronzy flecks like sunlight glinting on the water.
“Well, Jane?”
I bit into my slice. I’d only ever had frozen microwaved pizza before, and this was completely different, so delicious that I couldn’t believe they were both called by the same name. “The pizza makes your conversation almost tolerable.”
“And by ‘tolerable’ you mean the most awesome conversating in the world. What are your favorite subjects?”
“Your brother asked me the same thing.” I hoped he would say something about Lucky. “I like math and science.”
“Why? Tell me in complete sentences, the way you’d answer in a college interview, although you do that anyway, don’t you, at least when you talk to my mother?”
“You’re axing a lot for a few pieces of pizza.”
“Is that the way you really talk?”
“I talk the way I talk. I haven’t had the advantages that spoiled rich kids have, and I taught myself proper English, so, yes, I talk different. Or differently, if you’re going to nitpick. Your mom is always formal, so that’s how I am with her. With my pals, I’m more kicked back. Everyone is.”
“I’m not.”
“Well, good for you that you can talk foolishness about fairies and elves and fluffy bunnies and people put up with it because you’re Jacob Radcliffe.” Why did he make me react?
He considered for a moment. “I never thought of it that way. But I usually don’t talk to people about fairies and elves and, what was the other thing?”
“Fluffy bunnies. You forgot the foolishness.” I expected him to be annoyed, but he nodded amiably.
“Yeah, I knew there was more. I bet you’re good at tests. Anyway, you set my mind thinking in a very foolish direction. But you haven’t answered my question about math and science.”
“I like science and math because they’re always reasonable, logical, and fair. The rules apply no matter who you are, or who you know. They make sense.”
“And people don’t. We’re irrational and unreliable.”
“Some more than others. But the rules of science apply when we die. When our bodies decompose, it doesn’t matter if we were rich, poor, smart, stupid, good-looking, or ugly … None of that matters, because our chemical components are all the same. In death, we’re all equal.”
There was a long silence and then he said, “I don’t know when I’ve had a more cheerful dinner companion.”
I shrugged. “You asked.”
He was able to keep quiet for only a few minutes. “Tell me about yourself, Jane.”
“I came from a group home and now I’m here.”
“I already know that. Why were you in a group home?”
“What did your mother tell you?”
“You’re kinda cagey, Jane. The only thing she told us was that you’re here on scholarship and that Birch Grove helped get you out of foster care.”
“I’d tried to get emancipated from the system before, but no one listened to me until Birch Grove’s lawyer helped me file the papers,” I said. “My mother died when I was six and I don’t have any relatives, so I became a ward of the state. I got shuffled around until my last group home, where I lived for the last four years.”
“Where’s your father?”
“He bailed before I was b
orn. I don’t even know if Williams was his last name.” I moved my leg, accidentally brushing Jack’s under the table. I felt a jolt from the contact and thought of his muscled thighs and calves, the hair on the browned skin. A smile flickered on his lips, and I quickly tucked my legs under my chair. “As far as I’m concerned, he doesn’t exist.”
“You’re all alone then.”
“Save your pity for someone who wants it,” I said sharply. “You probably don’t know or give a damn, but lots of kids don’t live with their birth parents. Kids get taken from crackheads and psychotics. Parents get locked up. They take off. They die.”
“I know that, Jane.” His somber tone gave me the strangest feeling that he actually did understand.
But I didn’t want Jack’s sympathy, so I changed the subject. “I’d like to get in touch with my friends, but I didn’t see the computer lab on the school map.”
“You mean my mom didn’t tell you?” He tossed his head, sending his long curly hair swinging. “Birch Grove has a no-computer policy for schoolwork.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Yes, it totally does. There’s research that shows that writing out information by hand helps you process it. At least that’s what my mom says, and she’s usually right. Read your handbook, because I’m sure it’s in there with the million other insane rules.”
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking I couldn’t handle the work, and I could find a place in town with Internet access. “Fine. I’ll write out my work. Let them try to decipher it.”
“Evergreen Prep is almost as bad. Now you know why I went to public school.” He leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms out, and rolled his shoulders. “Do you like living by yourself here?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
“You’re very taciturn, Jane. Cagey and taciturn and unpredictably sparky and possibly evil pixieish.”
I sighed. “Of course, it’s great having my own place, but it’s an adjustment. I’m used to more noise, city noise, cars and people. And at night, when the wind blows, the trees make sounds. I’ll become habituated to it.”
“Habituated? Really?” A smile played on his lips. “Well, look who’s been studying for the SATs.”
“Jacob, why should I want to talk to you when you throw things in my face and act all superior?”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I do think you’re my equal—even before we’ve both decomposed into our chemical components—or I wouldn’t have come here to talk to you.”
“Why did you come here?”
“I thought you might want company, but it didn’t occur to me that you might not want my company.” After a minute, he said, “There are lots of folktales about birches. Do you know what they say about them? They say they lift their roots from the earth and walk at night.”
I had that unidentifiable sensation again of almost remembering something. Then one corner of Jack’s mouth lifted in amusement.
“Oooh, spooky, Jack. I’m so scared.” They’re only trees, I kept telling myself.
“No, I don’t suppose it’s easy to scare you.” The last of the evening light coming through the kitchen window caught Jack’s face as his expression grew more serious. “There’s something in your eyes, Halfling, and I’m not teasing about this, but it’s like you’ve seen things that we aren’t meant to see.”
“You’re imagining that.”
“Maybe I am, because I imagined that you appeared the other day on the path. It was clear and then I saw a shimmer and then you were standing right in my way.”
“That’s impossible. You were going too fast to see anything anyway. Isn’t that why you keep getting sprayed by skunks?” I looked anxiously at the leftover slices in the pizza box. Some people threw good food away.
“Skunks don’t make the air around them shimmer.” Jack finished eating and stood up. “Keep the rest. Don’t wander around the grove at night and make sure you lock the door when I leave.”
“I thought this place was safe.”
“It is, but sometimes people party in the amphitheater before the school year starts. Besides, it’s easy to lose your way on the side paths and fall in a creek or a gully. See you around, Halfling.”
I followed Jack to the front door and locked it. I looked out the window and saw him straddle his bike and take off into the dusky wood. He’d made the evening pass quickly. I thought of the feel of his leg against mine and the way his hand had warmed my shoulder when we’d first met. I thought of how his teasing made me let down my guard and say things I shouldn’t say when I’d spent years training myself to control my behavior.
I’d have to be careful around Jacob Radcliffe.
Strange and various were her conjectures respecting the lights she had seen, and the accountable noises she had heard … she did not suffer her mind to dwell on the causes being supernatural, she conceived there must be some mystery which, on the following day, if her health permitted, she resolved, if possible, to explore.
Eliza Parsons, The Castle of Wolfenbach (1793)
Chapter 6
Mid-morning the next day, Friday, Mrs. Radcliffe stopped by to drop off my uniforms and a round box. “These are your school hats. Our founder’s wife had the good sense to protect our girls from sun damage.”
I imagined Mrs. Radcliffe trying to wrestle Jack into a sailor suit and hat, and I almost laughed. “Thank you, ma’am. For everything. Um, I know I should have asked before—but is there a computer around that I can use, not for schoolwork, but so I can contact my friends?”
“The Greenwood Library has public computers. Once you settle in, we can certainly evaluate getting a laptop for you, Jane. I know it seems like a hardship, but people did exist for millennia without electronic communication.” She smiled, so I guessed this was her idea of a joke, and I returned her smile. “Well, I’ll be off. See you Monday, Jane. Blazers and skirts are worn on registration day.”
After I had lunch, I got the shopping bag with all the clothes I didn’t need, walked down the hill into town, and located the library. I applied for a card and was issued one labeled Birch Grove Academy.
I got on a computer and logged into a private group shared by my Helmsdale City Central pals. I wasn’t that close to them because Mrs. Prichard rarely allowed me to visit anyone, and I wondered if they’d miss me. I wanted to tell them about the incredible campus, gorgeous Lucky, my amazing cottage, and weird Jack, but I didn’t want to sound boastful about Birch Grove when they were still stuck in Hellsdale. I sent them a general “thinking of you” update.
When I went to my e-mail, I was excited to see that Wilde had sent me a message. “I got a nu website, Mousie. Check it!” When I clicked on the link, an X-rated page blazed on the screen, and I immediately closed the browser. I opened up a new session and sent a reply: “You’re hilarious. What’s your phone number?”
I checked out a chemistry tutoring book and imagined sitting side by side with Lucky. I thought of how we’d lean together to read a lesson, and I wondered if he’d come to see me as someone special, not merely a mousy geek girl.
My next stop was the women’s clothing shop. The clerk didn’t want to give me a cash refund without a receipt, but then one of the other women recognized me. “I’m sure it’s fine to give her cash back. Mrs. Radcliffe brought her in the other day. She’s a new Birch Grove student.”
I was so pleased with the money in my pocket that I didn’t mind just missing the shuttle. I plopped onto the bench to wait for the next one, and I was thinking about Lucky when an older gray Nissan stopped in front of me.
“Hey! Hey!” It was the girl from the grocery store. She was leaning across the front seat so she could yell out the open passenger window. “Where ya headed?”
“Up to Birch Grove. I missed the shuttle.”
“It’ll be another hour ’cause it’s still on the summer schedule. I’ll give you a lift.”
“Thanks.” I got in the car, which had fuzzy
pink seat covers. “I’m Jane.”
“Hey, Jane. I’m Orneta, but you can call me Ornery, ’cause I’m kinda cranky.” She told me she lived in Millerton, close to the local community college.
I asked, “Is there decent shopping there? Because everything is crazy expensive here.”
“Yeah, but you have to get there by car because there’s no bus lines. Greenwood people try to keep outsiders away. Where you from?”
“Helmsdale, and they don’t like outsiders, either.”
She let out a hoot. “I dated someone from there and he told me about Hellsdale City Central.”
After she relayed a few stories, I admitted, “It’s all true. At least it’s safe here.”
“Too safe. It’s not natural. Everyone is always up in your business. I’m getting out as soon as I find another job.”
“I’ll take this over Hellsdale any day. It’s so different, though. Like all the greenery and space here. I was jumping each time the wind blew.”
“If it was just wind, heck, that’s nothing. But the old buildings and the trees at Bitch Grave freak me out. People say the place is haunted.”
“Bitch Grave, that’s what it’s called?” She nodded and I said, “Well, City Central was called Mandatory-Sentencing Prep. You can’t take that stuff serious.”
“Maybe, but there was that lady that killed herself last year.”
“Who died?”
“A teacher or maybe a counselor? It didn’t happen here though. Her car was by a cliff near the ocean, so maybe it doesn’t count. Why are you up at the school so early?”
“I’m living there. They gave me a place to stay.”
Orneta rolled to the main gate and squinted up at the ironwork of leaves and branches. “Is it okay to leave you here? Because this place gives me the creeps.”
“Sure. Thanks for the lift.” I followed her sightline, trying to see what she was seeing. Thick fog draped over the trees. “There’s nothing scary.”
Ornery pursed her lips and drummed black fingernails on the steering wheel. “Not the same kind of scary as Hellsdale, but my feminine intuition says something’s wrong.”