The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove (7 page)

Jane?”

I wondered how Lucky would get out of this awkward situation, but he

said, “That would be cool,” as if it was the most normal thing in the world for a

new scholarship student to tutor the headmistress’s son.

“I could tutor,” I said quickly. I was thinking,
money and Lucky
, instead

of paying attention to what I was doing. The knife slipped in my hand and cut

into my finger and I cried out. Lucky and his mother turned to see the cut oozing

blood over the green-edged, white slices of cucumber.

Lucky hurried to me and said, “Let me see.”

I held out my hand. He stood close that I smelled the same fresh, herbal

scent that his mother wore. He gazed at the cut welling with blood and his finely

curved lips opened slightly. I felt the whisper of his exhalation on my cheek.

“Lucien!” Mrs. Monroe said sharply. “I’ll take care of that.” She put her

hand on my wrist and turned me toward her. “It’s not deep. Let’s rinse it off.

Lucky, get a Band-Aid. Your brother has a box in his bathroom.”

Lucky walked away, and Mrs. Monroe turned on the faucet and flushed

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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta

the cut with hot water. Her oval fingernails with their clear polish and her pale

fingers contrasted against my skin and my uneven, bitten fingernails.

“I should have been careful,” I said.

She didn’t take her eyes from my hand. “Most accidents happen in the

kitchen. I should have a First Aid kit here. Let’s staunch it.”

I was pressing down on the cut with a paper towel when Lucky returned

with a box of Band-Aids. When Mrs. Monroe reached for the box, Lucky held it

away from her and said, “I can do it.”

“It’s nothing,” I said. “I can put it on.”

“You’re the patient,” Lucky said as he shook a Band-Aid out of the box and

said, “Hold out your hand.”

I did as he said and put the paper towel on the counter.

Lucky tore the waxy wrapper from the Band-Aid, peeled off the slick white

backing, and carefully wrapped the Band-Aid around my finger. His fingers were

as pale as his mother’s, and his nails were clean and squared off.

He grinned and said, “There you go. You can thank Dr. Lucky.”

“Thank you, Dr. Lucky,” I said, thinking that he was making a big deal out

of the cut. Not that I minded his attention, but it seemed
odd
. Maybe this was

how they treated guests.

Mrs. Monroe said, “Thank you, Lucien, however, you’ll have to put a little

more energy into your studies if you want to earn a medical degree.”

He shrugged and offered the plate of cheese straws to me. I took one and

bit into it. It was hot and buttery. Lucky ate several, and then held out plate

toward me. I picked up another and ducked my head, uneasy with his

thoughtfulness.

Mrs. Monroe opened the oven and took out a roast chicken with shiny,

brown skin that made my mouth water. She said, “Lucky goes to Evergreen Prep,

the all-boys companion to Birch Wood.”

“Jack graduated from public school last June,” Lucky volunteered. He

said
public school
the same way the Alphas said
youth correctional facility
.

“Now he’s slacking.”

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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta

“You’ll give Jane the wrong impression,” his mother said. “The local

public school has an outstanding music program. Jacob’s taking off a year to

focus on his music and consider his options.”

“Options like sleeping in late or sleeping in
really
late,” Lucky said.

When Mrs. Monroe gave him a sharp look, he laughed.

“You can see why I’m happy to work with my Birch Grove girls,” Mrs.

Monroe said. “I know you prefer the sciences, but I hope you’ll enjoy your

liberal arts studies here. We’ve got exceptional English and language courses.

Do you enjoy literature, Jane?”

“It’s all right, but I prefer subjects that teach useful information.”

“Literature has many lessons we can apply to our daily lives, Jane.”

“Now you’ve got her started,” Lucky said, and he was right. Mrs. Monroe

talked for another ten minutes about the importance of fiction and poetry as if

memorizing a sonnet was going to help me get a job.

I pretended to listen while I watched Lucky slouching against the counter.

His nose was long and straight and he had a small cleft in his chin. He was

gazing out the window at the school and town below.

I remembered the blood-soaked paper towel I’d left on the counter and I

took my glass to the sink, intending to pick it up so that Mrs. Madison didn’t have

to clean up after me. It was already gone.

Then Jack, wearing a clean version of his previous outfit, returned with a

tall, handsome older man at his side.

“Right on time for dinner, dear,” Mrs. Monroe said to the older man.

“Jane, this is my husband, Mr. Monroe. Tobias, this is my new student, Jane

Williams.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Mr. Monroe said with the briefest of smiles. His

blond hair was shot through with silver and his eyes were the pale blue of the

early morning sky. He was as tall as Lucky, but thin and there were grayish

shadows under his eyes. On his wrist a heavy gold watch slid loosely, as if it was

intended for a bigger man.

The dinner was more lavish than Easter dinner at Mrs. Richards. We had

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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta

roast chicken, green salad, red cabbage slaw, mashed potatoes, and warm crusty

bread. It would have been a perfect meal except that when I cut into the chicken,

I saw blood at the bone. I tried to eat around the raw part and then hid the barely

eaten meat under lettuce leaves.

We even had dessert, strawberry shortcake, topped with whipped cream and

oozing with sweet ruby juices.

I try to recollect that first dinner with the Monroes, but all I remember was

the strangeness of sitting with what I thought was a happy family. Mr. Monroe

was pleasant, but distracted, often staring out the window. Mrs. Monroe made

polite conversation with her sons and me about weather, the neighborhood,

school.

The oddest thing about the family was Jack, who looked quite different

from his tall, pale family. Sometimes I caught him watching me, but I couldn’t

tell what he was thinking behind those clear green eyes.

Some of the kids at the group home had talked dreamily about family life

before
:
before
mom got on the pipe,
before
dad got sent up,
before
sickness,

poverty, mental illness, and death pressed down upon their lives until they broke

apart like the cheap plastic toys we got at Christmas.

“Jane, what sports do you play?” Lucky asked.

“I don’t do sports.” Sports cost money and time, and I had had neither.

“We’ll have to find one for you,” Mrs. Monroe said. “We’re happiest

when we exercise both our minds and our bodies.” Her eyes slid toward her

husband as he poured another glass of red wine for himself. “Tobias, what do you

think?”

He took a long drink and looked at me, as if trying to size me. “I don’t

know. Golf?”

Lucky laughed and said, “The clubs are bigger than she is! I’ve still got

my kiddie set, though.”

What could be more pointless than hitting a tiny ball around a giant lawn

with a stick? “I don’t think I’d like golf.”

“Get a bike,” Jack said. “It’s a sport
and
transportation and it doesn’t

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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta

spew toxic fumes. You can even build your own. I did.”

“These hills are too steep for a beginner,” Mrs. Monroe said. “Jane, you

can talk to the sports clubs at orientation on Monday and see if any interest you.”

I knew sports helped on college applications, but there had to be a way

around them. The headmistress saw my reluctance and said, “If you don’t want to

join a team now, you can do it later. We have something for everyone.”

“Anyone can ride a bike,” Jack said. “Even an elf.”

“Jacob, stop teasing Jane. Not every appreciates your sense of humor.”

Mrs. Monroe said. “Boys, clear the table.”

She walked me to the front door and said, “Would you like Lucian or

Jacob to walk you home?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for dinner, Mrs. Monroe. It was delicious.”

“I’m glad you could join us. Tomorrow I’d like to take you into town.

We’ll pick up a few things you need, and you can open a bank account and

deposit your stipend.”

The stipend was a payment the school was giving me for living expenses.

I couldn’t wait to have my own money. “Okay.”

“Good. We also need to stop in at the tailor and have your uniforms

fitted.” She smiled and said, “After having thousands of girls go through my

school, I can guess sizes with a degree of accuracy, but there’s always a hem to

take in, or a button to be moved. Shall we meet in front of the school at ten?”

“Yes, ma’am. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Jane. Sleep well.”

I was glad to walk alone in the darkening grove so I could think about the

evening. Most of all, I puzzled over Lucky and the way he’d bandaged my finger.

Although I knew it meant nothing to him, I could still daydream about the

closeness of him, his long legs, and the way his lips had parted when he held my

hand.

A wind blustered all night long and my heightened mood made me imagine

that the moving branches were reaching out toward my little cottage, cocooning it

against the world outside.

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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta

The next morning, the Band-Aid became loose in the shower and I pulled it

off. The cut was a thin line without even a scab on the wrinkled skin beneath. I

had a weird desire to keep the old Band-Aid, because it reminded me of Lucky’s

sweetness. I realized that was crazy and I threw it away.

Since I had nothing else to do, I went to the school building early. I sat on

the marble steps, which chilled my butt, and turned my head to look up at the

stone angels over the doors. Their beautiful, fierce faces made me think of one of

my vocabulary words, androgynous.

A few adults, teachers I guessed, said hello as they passed me to go into the

building.

When Mrs. Monroe came out of the building to meet me, she was dressed

in navy slacks and a long-sleeved white blouse. A thin cotton sweater was tied

over her shoulders and a white canvas hat shaded her face. “Good morning, Jane.

Are you ready?”

We walked to the parking lot on the far side of the school property. I

hadn’t noticed it before because tall bushes blocked the view from the drive. Her

car was an older model silver Mercedes with a Birch Grove Academy emblem in

the rear window.

I slid into the deep leather seat and Mrs. Monroe waited until I’d clicked

on my safety belt before starting the car.

As she drove down the hill, she said, “Our students keep so busy with

schoolwork and activities that they don’t mind that Greenwood isn’t very large.

There’s a movie house, restaurants, a pizzeria, cafes, boutiques, and Feldon’s, the

ice cream parlor.”

“We passed through it on my way to the school,” I said. “How far is it

from Birch Grove?”

“It’s only a mile, although the walk uphill seems longer than the walk

down,” she said with a smile.

When we reached the bottom of the hill, Mrs. Monroe turned onto a treelined street with small pretty stores. Windows gleamed, the sidewalks were clean,

and bright flowers spilled out of window boxes and planters.

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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta

Mrs. Monroe pointed to an intersection and said, “There’s a shuttle that

runs every hour and goes up the hill. You can ride for free with your student I.D.”

She parked in front of a store that had had a sign saying
Eunice’s Sewing

& Alterations
. “This is our first stop because I want to be sure your uniform will

be ready.”

She took a garment bag from her trunk and we went into the shop, setting

a bell above the door tinkling.

“Morning, Mrs. Monroe,” said the older woman behind the counter.

“Good morning, Eunice. I’ve brought the uniforms for Jane Wilson.

She’s a new student.” Mrs. Monroe set the bag on the counter, unzipped it and

lifted out navy blue and white garments. “I’m sure the sweaters will fit fine, but

try them on anyway, Jane.”

She was right about the sweaters, but the navy blazer’s sleeves covered

my knuckles. I was only 5’1” and jackets and pants were always too long on me.

When I shoved the cuffs up, Eunice frowned. She tugged them back down and

said, “I’ll pin these.”

My school wardrobe consisted of two cotton navy v-neck sweaters, one

wool navy cardigan; the blazer; one pair of navy slacks, two skirts in a navy and

tan plaid; and five white, cotton blouses. The sweaters and jacket had burgundy

trim and the jacket had a school embroidered school emblem on the pocket.

Eunice had me stand on a wooden platform in front of a three-way mirror

and she pinned the hems. I had dreamed about new clothes, however, these made

me look as if I was about to enter a convent. I remembered Mrs. Richards