A woman in a yellow dress and a hat covered in red flowers pointed at me and said something in a language I didn’t understand. She was one of the many foreign tourists who stayed at the hotel.
“What does she say?” Slamet asked.
“I have no idea.” But I could guess. Either she was shocked I was walking with Slamet, or . . .
The woman gestured to her hat and then to me.
I gasped and slapped my forehead.
“What?” he asked.
“I forgot my hat.” I hadn’t even thought of it when I left home earlier. It still hung from its hook on my bedroom wall. “Tante Greet won’t be pleased.”
“Why?”
“She says a lady should never go outside without a hat. She needs to protect herself from the sun, or she’ll get spots.”
“Spots? Like leopard?” His brow furrowed.
Shrugging, I said, “I guess. I’m not sure what she means. Or what the problem is with spots. Aren’t leopards beautiful?”
“Ya, but you will look silly with spots.” His eyes glimmered, and then he burst out laughing.
I chuckled, picturing myself covered with black spots. “You would probably look better with spots than I would.”
“I will.” He nodded. “My hair is color of leopard spots.”
Slamet had black hair that gleamed, even in the moonlight. My own light brown hair was bland. And it was a mess. No matter how many pins I stuck in it, it always fell down by the middle of the day. Today I had only tied it back with a ribbon. I patted it gingerly. “Oh, no.”
“What?”
“My hair is not even done up properly.” Tante Greet was going to tear me apart like a crocodile. I was doomed.
Slamet’s face puckered in confusion, as if he had bitten sour fruit. “What?”
“You see, I only pulled it back like this.” I turned so he could see the ribbon and then blushed, wondering if he thought my hair looked ridiculous.
He shook his head. “I do not understand.”
“Tante Greet would not appreciate me going out with my hair like this. It is not arranged correctly. I should have it braided or pinned in a more stylish way.” I rubbed my eyes. I thought hair was a stupid thing to worry about. If my aunt were more like Vader, she would be concerned with what was inside my head. Or maybe he agreed with her now? The thought made me shudder.
At least Slamet concurred with me. “You will not worry on this.”
I sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to worry about hair either. Or hats. Or any of the other myriad rules my aunt has. Most of the time, I don’t even understand them.” What I said was true. Tante Greet had set these ludicrous rules for me, and half the time I didn’t even know I had broken one until it was too late. It was like walking through a spider’s web I didn’t know was there.
“You have small problems,” Slamet said.
“Tell that to my aunt,” I mumbled.
“Hair. Hats. These are not our problems.”
I plodded along beside him. “I wish they weren’t my problems either.” We were near the shops in the center of town, about halfway home.
“I’m going exploring tomorrow to look for more beetles,” I said. “Do you want to join me?”
He furrowed his brow. “I see Raharjo.”
“Oh.” Raharjo was his older brother. Slamet had talked about him before, but something about Slamet’s tone was different now, as if he had spoken out of turn. Was seeing Raharjo a secret?
“Maybe I could meet him,” I said hesitantly.
“He lives in jungle.”
“I don’t mind that.” I had been several kilometers into the jungle, sometimes with Slamet and sometimes without.
“Deep in jungle. You cannot go.”
“What do you mean?” Slamet wasn’t making any sense. He knew I had been farther into the jungle than Vader or Tante Greet allowed. “I wouldn’t mind.”
“It is time for men.” He smiled broadly, and his dimple pinched his right cheek. “No girls.”
I tilted my head. “Then why are you going? You’re still a boy.” I wiggled my eyebrows.
We laughed loudly right in the middle of town. People on the street stared at us with mouths agape. One of them, I noticed with annoyance, was Mrs. Brinckerhoff.
Chapter 9
After supper that night, I curled up on the sofa in the parlor with On the Origin of Species in my lap. Rereading Mr. Charles Darwin’s words was like coming home.
Vader and Tante Greet stayed behind in the dining room talking. Their murmurs floated through the open doorway, adding to the night noises of buzzing insects and hooting owls. Soon they joined me in the parlor. Tante Greet worked on her needlepoint, and Vader read his newspaper.
The clock ticked in the hallway and chimed its song at nine o’clock. Tante Greet yawned. “I believe it’s time for bed. Goede nacht, Katrien.” She set her things back in their basket.
“Good night, Tante.”
As she walked out, she nodded at Vader and something passed between them. “Niels,” she said.
He grimaced.
I returned to my reading, but Vader came over and sat beside me. “I need to talk with you, Katrien.”
“You do?”
He nodded, and I sat up.
“Did you learn more about Krakatau?” I asked.
“No.”
“Homo sapiens.”
“Katrien, please do not use Latin in that manner.”
“Apologies, Vader. My emotions got the better of me.” I placed a ribbon in my book.
“Your emotions seem to be getting the better of you quite a bit lately.” He cleared his throat. “I understand you had a confrontation with Brigitta and her friends in the market this afternoon.”
Surprised he had already heard about it, I stammered, “H-how did you—”
“So it’s true.”
“No,” I protested, but the disappointment in his eyes made me confess. “Ja. But I wouldn’t call it a confrontation.”
He arched an eyebrow. “What would you call it?”
“A provocation.”
“Who provoked whom?”
“She provoked me, of course.” That should have been obvious, but Brigitta probably twisted the truth.
He nodded. “I thought you would say that.”
“It’s true! And how do you know about it?”
Hearing my tone, he gave me a sharp glance. “Mr. Burkart told me when he returned to the office late this afternoon. He was most upset about it.”
“I’m sure he was.” My legs dangled off the sofa, and I swung them side to side. “I’m sure Brigitta told him how awful I was to her. I’m sure Brigitta never even told him how hateful she was to me.”
Vader ran his hands through his hair. “He seemed less interested in what was said between the two of you. He knows that young girls can be, shall we say, less than ladylike. His bigger concern was that this happened in a public place.”
“But she started it,” I said. “Why am I the only one in trouble?”
“Because of the two of you, you are my responsibility. I am sure Thomas is speaking to Brigitta about this.”
“Ha! I doubt it. She’s probably never gotten in trouble in her life.”
He sighed. “Brigitta’s situation right now is not your concern. According to Thomas, she questioned your wardrobe, and you snapped at her.”
“That’s not—”
“And I have to say,” he said, not letting me finish, “that I noticed the state of your dress when you visited me this afternoon.”
I felt like I had been pushed underwater. Vader was siding with Brigitta?
His eyes filled with sadness. “Katrien, I realize that your disregard for how others see you is partially my fault.”
I shook my head. “I don’t—”
He held his hand up. “I accept that responsibility. I wish your mother had not died, and I wish I had sent for Greet sooner. I wish you had siblings. I wish a great many things for you.”
“But Vader—”
“The only thing I would not see changed for you is your intelligence and your curiosity. But I’m afraid that will not be enough to see you into adulthood.”
“What do you mean?”
He shifted in his seat. “You have to know more than science, more than logic, more than books to get along in this life.”
I pushed my spectacles up. Was Vader telling me I should stop reading? Stop wondering about the world? Stop trying to prove natural selection? “Do you mean I need to know needlepoint or something?” I asked, pointing to Tante Greet’s basket.
“No.” He chuckled. “Although that is not a bad skill. But everyone relies on other people. All my life I’ve had people helping me along the way—my parents, your mother, Greet and Maarten. Not to mention teachers and neighbors and even strangers.”
“I have people, Vader. I have you and Tante and Oom Maarten. Indah and Slamet. Even Sister Hilde.”
“For now,” he said quietly. “But you are no longer a young child. Your behavior can no longer be justified by saying you don’t know better.”
“I don’t understand. What have I done that’s so terrible?”
With a sigh, he said, “It is not a particular thing you have done that is at the root of this problem, Katrien. You haven’t committed a crime or created a scandal. But the little things you do—cursing, wearing stained skirts, being impertinent—these things all lead up to people not wanting to be around you, not wanting to help you.”
“I don’t want help from people who are offended by such simple things.” I rubbed my eyes. “For goodness’ sake, it’s not as if I killed someone.” How could I be hurting people if I wasn’t causing them pain?
He squeezed my hand. “If Slamet treated you the way you treated Brigitta, how would you respond?”
“I don’t know.”
“Might you avoid him, so you wouldn’t have to be treated that way anymore?”
“I might.”
“That’s what others will do to you if you keep up this reckless behavior, Katrien. Do you understand?”
I nodded, though I was still unsure what the problem truly was.
He stared at me a moment as if he was debating what to say next. When his words came, though, they were firm. “Tomorrow, you are going to stay home and assist your aunt.”
“What?” I sat up straighter. “I’m going to the jungle tomorrow. To collect more beetles.”
“No,” he said. “Tomorrow you will help your aunt. You will do as she asks, and then we will eat supper at the Hotel Anjer—”
I opened my mouth to speak, but he raised his voice. “—where you will be polite, courteous and respectful. I’ve talked to Greet about this. If you can’t behave tomorrow, we’ll be forced to limit your jungle excursions.”
“You can’t be serious!” I was consumed by rage. He couldn’t do this. The jungle was where I felt most alive. The jungle was where I took solace. The jungle was where I found my stag beetles. My work was in the jungle.
“I am serious, Katrien. The one thing you enjoy most is exploring in the jungle. If you can’t behave properly, you will only be able to go to the jungle twice a week. Am I making myself clear?”
Still furious, I growled, “Ja, Vader.”
He smiled. “Now, goede nacht.”
“Good night,” I grumbled.
He left the room, shoulders drooped.
As soon as I heard the click of his bedroom door, I threw myself across the sofa, screaming into a pillow and beating the cushions. I treated those cushions the way I longed to treat Brigitta. Why did I have to be punished for her behavior?
When my arms at last grew tired, I sat up and picked up the pillow, now damp from catching my screams. I stared at it. My aunt had needlepointed a proverb on the front with orange thread. “A good example will gain much following.” I flung the pillow across the room. They all wanted me to use Brigitta as an example of proper behavior. But they didn’t see the real person she was.
I would not let myself become someone like her. I would not!
And now Vader was threatening to limit my jungle excursions if I didn’t behave properly? If I didn’t behave like Brigitta? She was a conniving, manipulative phony.
But wait.
Couldn’t I do that? Couldn’t I pretend to be pleasant and polite, just as she did? After all, it wasn’t as if I belched or picked food from my teeth. I could be polite at supper. Perhaps I could follow Brigitta’s example. I would only really need to be a phony when it came to dealing with her.
And then I wouldn’t lose my privileges.
I could do this. I had to.
Chapter 10
It rained the next morning. After breakfast I helped Tante Greet finish organizing the pantry. I took notes while she counted. “We’re fairly well stocked, Katrien, but look. We do need to buy some rice and sugar. Perhaps we can get that tomorrow.” I dutifully made a note of it. When we were finished in the pantry I had to wind all the clocks and sweep the porches.
After lunch, it was even worse. Tante Greet looked at the clearing sky and took on the appearance of a general. “Come along, Katrien. We still have much to do. Perhaps you’ll be glad to know our task will take us outdoors.” She pushed her chair under the table. “Don’t forget your hat,” she said pointedly.
I grabbed my straw hat and took my time tying it on my head before trudging after her to the flower garden.
On my way out I thought of Mr. Charles Darwin. “It is the damp with the heat of the tropics which is so destructive to perennial plants from a temperate climate.” I would have laughed if I didn’t know how much Tante Greet missed tulips. When she arrived in Java five years ago she had tried to grow some, but they didn’t even sprout, so she planted roses instead. They didn’t care for the climate either. Vader suggested she try native tropical plants, but she refused. “I will have some culture here, Niels,” she had said.
“And culture means roses?” Vader had asked.
When I stepped oustide I found Tante Greet already kneeling in the dirt, yanking weeds.
“Where do you want me to help?” I asked.
She looked at me from under the broad brim of her hat. “Ah, my favorite niece finally joins me.”
I pushed my spectacles up. “I’m your only niece.”
“Thank the stars. I couldn’t handle another one. And please lift your spectacles. Don’t push them.”
Ignoring her, I said, “ ‘The more nearly any two forms are related in blood, the nearer they will generally stand to each other in time and space.’ ”
Tante Greet paused. “Are you quoting Darwin again?”
I grinned. “If you don’t want my help, I can always go work on my beetle collection.”
She rubbed her back. “Those filthy bugs. Of course you’ll help me. That’s what Niels and I agreed to.” She pointed to the other flower bed, and I noticed her gloves. Those gloves, caked in years of dirt, kept her hands smooth and soft.
Without some gloves of my own, my hands were unprotected. Not that it mattered. They were already covered in small nicks and scratches from my treks through the jungle.
Tante Greet seemed to know what I was thinking. “There is another pair in the gardening trunk. They should fit you.”
Running around the house to the side porch, I dug through the trunk until I found the gloves. They did fit. My aunt and I both had long slender fingers. I hurried back to the flower beds and saw a disapproving gleam in her eyes.
“Katrien, you need to walk, please, and not run.”
“But I always run in the yard.”
Even though she knelt in the dirt, she straightened her back and seemed to loom over me. “I know, and I am telling you not to do so. Do you understand me?”
I nodded miserably.
A tremendous sigh escaped Tante Greet’s lips. “Katrien, what am I going to do with you?”
Even your aunt is tired of your behavior. Brigitta’s words buzzed in my brain.
I swatted them away like a fly. “Why do you have to do anything with me?” I asked.
“Because you have to grow up. You have to be a productive member of society.”
“I will be.” I knew my beetle collection would prove valuable one day. It would prove the theory of natural selection. It was my work.
“How?” Tante Greet tilted her head.
I rubbed my eyes and tried to explain myself. “Mr. Charles Darwin says—”
“Darwin,” she huffed, “is part of the problem.”
“What problem?”
“My dear, you don’t even have any friends,” she said.
She sounded like Brigitta, and I hated that she was echoing my worst enemy’s words. “That is not true!”
She arched her eyebrows.
“Slamet is my friend. And Vader.” I bent down and plucked weeds to avoid her eyes. Did she notice I didn’t include her?
“I mean you have no girlfriends, Katrien.”
“You mean like Mrs. Brinckerhoff? No, thank you.”
“Katrien,” she warned.
“I do not like that woman.”
Tante Greet clucked disapprovingly. “Johanna is a kind woman.”
“Kind?” I ripped weeds from the ground with more force, pretending each one was Mrs. Brinckerhoff. “She waltzes into our home like she owns it. Demands I find you. Doesn’t say please or thank you. How can you defend her? She’s rude.”
“I wish you wouldn’t be so quick to judge.” She wiped her brow. “Put yourself in her place. Have some empathy for her.”
“If I put myself in her place, I would realize what a horrible person I was.” I yanked at a long bit of greenery and it came loose from the soil. If only I could remove Mrs. Brinckerhoff from my life with such ease. Or better yet, Brigitta.
Tante Greet’s lips pressed together. “I find that hard to believe, as you’re being a pretty horrible person yourself right now.”
After the Ashes Page 4