Family Storms

  It was as if everyone from Dr. Steiner down had been waiting for me, as if they had all known that what would happen some rainy night on the Santa Monica highway would deliver me to this very place.

  18

  Fast Learner

  You were a big hit with Mr. Denacio,” Lisa said after the bell rang. I put the clarinet in the locker assigned to me. She put away her flute, and we were on our way to English class. “I could tell, because he always looks annoyed when he gets a student to start from scratch. He’d like everyone who enters his class to be concert-ready.

  “So tell me the truth,” she said almost in a whisper. “You really did play the clarinet at your previous school, right?”

  “No. I didn’t.”

  “Then why was an instrument left here for you?”

  “It was meant to be a surprise.”

  She nodded as if she understood why I wasn’t telling the truth. “Everybody tells little white lies here,” she said.

  “I don’t.”

  She smiled coyly again and continued walking silently. I had little opportunity to speak with any of my other classmates until our lunch break. All the time I was with her in my classes and on the way to them, I could see that Lisa was using me to make herself look more important. When we entered the cafeteria, that was even clearer. Students who were eager to learn more about me looked up from their tables in expectation. She took her time deciding where and with whom we should sit and finally decided on a table with three other girls.

  We set our books down first, and Lisa introduced me to Charlotte Harris, Jessica Taylor, and Sydney Woods. Charlotte and Jessica had light brown hair cut and styled almost identically. Sydney had auburn hair brushed shoulder-length. I didn’t think any of them was particularly pretty, but after Lisa introduced them all to me and me to them, they acted and spoke as if they all had won teenage beauty contests.

  Lisa began by telling them as much about me as she knew. I was a little more nervous, because all of them had been to Santa Barbara frequently, and I thought they would be asking me detailed questions about stores and places to go. I waited to hear what they liked about it and quickly agreed.

  “Isn’t there a place you liked more?” Sydney Woods asked me.

  I pretended to think about it and then shook my head. “We didn’t go out to eat that much, and my father hated the beach.”

  That was certainly true about Daddy, I thought. Mama practically had to drag him the few times he did come along, and all he did was complain about hot sand or the water being too cold.

  “So, how did you get that limp? Born with it?” Jessica Taylor asked me.

  “No, car accident,” I said quickly.

  While I was eating, I saw Lisa lean over to whisper in her ear. How long was it going to take for everyone in the school to hear the story the Marches had created for me?

  “My parents know your aunt and uncle,” Charlotte Harris said. “They say they are one of the richest families in Southern California. Is that true?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know the other rich families.”

  Everyone laughed, and when they saw that I didn’t mean it to be funny, they looked at each other and laughed harder. Later, that was the information that flew around the school: “Sasha doesn’t know the other rich families.”

  I told myself I didn’t care, but who doesn’t want to make new friends? Before the day ended, I saw Sydney Woods talking to some of the girls in PE and obviously imitating my limp as she recited my now-famous line: “I don’t know the other rich families.”

  New girls are a threat, I thought—not that I saw myself as prettier or smarter or even simply nicer than the girls in my class. For a while, at least, I was a bit of a mystery to them and the boys. It was practically impossible for me to enter any room or even walk down the hallway to class without being watched and studied. I was even more self-conscious of my limping, and by the time the bell rang to indicate that the last class was over, I felt like a clam that had crawled completely into its shell.

  Apparently, Lisa had decided that she would be better off not clinging so closely to me after that day.

  “I guess you can get around yourself now, huh?” she asked as we headed toward the parking lot.

  I had books in my new book bag and carried my clarinet in my other hand. Mr. Denacio had given me instructions on what to do. He said I had to practice every night for an hour at least and added that he would know if I hadn’t.

  “Yes, thank you for helping me today,” I told Lisa.

  She flashed a smile and then hurried to catch up with the other girls. They all laughed as they exited the school. Before I got to the door, Dr. Steiner called to me from the doorway of the principal’s office.

  “I hear you had a good first day,” she said.

  I thought, Yes, I wasn’t stoned to death. I simply looked at her.

  “That’s what your teachers have been telling me. I didn’t speak to Mr. Cohen yet, your history teacher, since you just finished the class, but all of the others think you’ll do just fine, and Mr. Denacio is quite impressed. Did you enjoy the day? Was Lisa a good big sister?”

  I tried to sound enthusiastic, but I could almost see her brain clicking.

  “It’s not easy for anyone to start somewhere new,” she said, lowering her voice a bit, “but it has to be especially difficult for you, Sasha. I understand, and I’m confident you’ll blend in well here. Concentrate on the schoolwork. Everything else will come in due time.”

  I thanked her and walked out. A few of the girls in my class had been watching us through the door. They rushed to catch up with Lisa and the others. Everyone turned to look my way. Did they think I had complained about them? They weren’t laughing. They looked like a coven of witches mumbling curses in my direction. I watched them continue to their cars. Mothers waited in most of the cars, but I saw a few fathers. Grover stood by the limousine waiting for me, so I hurried toward him.

  Before I reached him, Kiera caught up with me. Her girlfriend Deidre was with her, as well as one of the boys I had seen at the pool. Kiera deliberately bumped into me, and I turned.

  “Oh, sorry, coz,” she said. “So how did your day go? Feel like a little fool yet?” She walked off laughing. The boy smiled but turned to see my reaction. I lowered my head and continued to the limousine. Suddenly, it had become my cocoon, and I couldn’t wait to be shut away inside.

  Mrs. March was waiting for me when we drove up. She came toward us so fast that for a moment, I thought she was going to be the one to open my door and not Grover.

  “I couldn’t wait to hear how it went,” she said when I got out. “I spoke with Dr. Steiner. I was so happy with the good reports about you. Did you like the school, your teachers? Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “Yes,” I said. Anything else might have caused an earthquake. “But you didn’t tell me you had brought this clarinet for me.”

  “Oh. Didn’t I mention that? I thought I had. Apparently, Mr. Denacio thinks you could be a natural. I’m so happy for you. I bet you can’t wait to go up to start your homework. Alena was like that. Kiera couldn’t stand it. No matter what Kiera did or said, she couldn’t get Alena to put off her work. She was such a responsible little girl, as I’m sure you are.”

  For a moment, I wanted to do something that would change her mind about me, even though she was right. I did want to get right to my homework. I was so happy to have it. After all, it had been a year since I had been asked to do anything for school.

  “Did you make any nice friends?” she asked as we entered the house.

  “Not yet,” I said.

  “Oh, I’m sure you will. Mr. March will be calling soon. He was anxious to hear about you, too.”

  “Was he?”

  “Why, of course, Sasha. That school was his precious other child. He takes personal interest in it.”

  “Oh,” I said. I thought he wasn’t so interested in me, per se. He wanted to be sure the school lived up
to its reputation for excellence. Mrs. March didn’t realize the difference, I thought, and I went up to my room, where I did go right at my assignments.

  I was so involved in it all that I didn’t realize how much time passed. Mrs. March came in to tell me that we would be having dinner soon, but that wasn’t the main reason she had come.

  “Did you see Kiera at all today?” she asked.

  “Yes, at the end of the day.”

  “Thank goodness for that,” she muttered. “I was afraid she had cut school the first day. Last year, she and some friends did that, as if it were some sort of great accomplishment. Her father was furious.”

  Not furious enough to take away her driving privileges, I thought.

  “Do you have any idea where she might have gone after school? Did she say anything to you? She doesn’t answer her cell phone.”

  I shook my head.

  She looked concerned but then shook it off to smile at me. “Well, let’s concentrate on you for now. Come down to dinner in ten minutes, and tell me all about your homework. We’re not holding up dinner for Kiera,” she said, and left.

  When I went down, Kiera was still not home, and Mr. March wasn’t there, either. It was once again just Mrs. March and me. She asked more questions about school and my teachers, but before I could really answer, she would go on again about Alena and her first days. I thought she was babbling to keep from showing how nervous she was about Kiera still not being home. Finally, just before we were going to have dessert, we heard her come in. Instantly, Mrs. March rose, intending to greet her before she went upstairs, but Kiera surprised her by coming quickly to the dining room.

  “Sorry I’m late!” she cried.

  “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer your cell phone?” Mrs. March demanded.

  “I didn’t see you had called until I was on my way home and thought you’d be at dinner, Mother. I was being considerate. See? When I am considerate, you complain.”

  For a moment, she threw Mrs. March off, but then Mrs. March got right back on track. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you come right home after school? Both your father and I told you to do so. You didn’t take anyone in your car, did you?”

  “Oh, no, and that was such an inconvenience. I had to go with Clarissa in her car so no one would ask me why I couldn’t take anyone.”

  “To where?” Mrs. March practically screamed.

  “To Paula Dungan’s house. I told you we had all decided to form a homework club.”

  “What?” Mrs. March looked at me to see if I knew. I said nothing, and she turned back to Kiera. “You never told me such a thing. A homework club?”

  “We’re seniors, and this is a very important first half of the year, Mother. Most of us will be sending out college applications soon.”

  For another long moment, Mrs. March just stared at Kiera.

  “I’m hungry,” Kiera said, and she went to the kitchen doorway to tell Mrs. Duval she was ready to eat. Then she went to her seat and poured herself some water. Mrs. March had still not returned to the table. She stared at her. “What?” Kiera asked.

  “You never told me about a homework club.”

  “I did so. I told you that it was going to be difficult for me, because I have to go to that stupid therapy every Tuesday and Thursday after school. If I don’t do well this first half, it’s because of that.”

  Mrs. March returned to the table silently.

  Kiera smiled at me. “I bet you haven’t even started your homework,” she said.

  “I’m almost done,” I told her.

  “She went right to it after school, just like Alena,” Mrs. March said, quickly coming to my defense.

  Kiera shrugged. “They probably made it easier for her.”

  “Of course not,” Mrs. March said.

  Kiera shrugged again. “The kids will be coming here every other Wednesday until I get out of this therapy junk. Then I can have them here two or three days a week.” she turned back to me. “I heard you made quite an impression on some of the girls in your class.”

  “Oh?” Mrs. March said.

  “Yes,” Kiera said. “She’s got them all limping.”

  She laughed at her own joke just as Mrs. Duval brought in her dinner. Mrs. March sat back, looking as if all of the air had gone out of her lungs. I began to eat my dessert. Kiera was an expert when it came to throwing her mother off, I thought. First, she frustrated her with her responses, and then she went on to talk about things that she knew would interest her mother: what the other girls were wearing, what she had learned about where their parents went for the summer, and who had bought what for their homes.

  I began to feel invisible again and asked to be excused.

  “I want to finish my homework and practice the clarinet fundamentals,” I said. They were like magic words for Mrs. March. I, too, knew how to manipulate her when I wanted to do that, but it didn’t make me feel any better to compare myself with Kiera. She looked at me with a mixture of anger and awe. She realized then that I was more than a street girl. I could play on her field. I was a much faster learner than she had expected, and for the first time, I thought she might be afraid of me. I could almost hear her concerns.

  For the first time in a long time, since Alena’s death, actually, there was real competition in the house for her parents’ attention. Soon it might be for their love, as well, and that was more than she could stand.

  Maybe, Mama, I thought, this is how we get our revenge, our justice.

  Why else would I be there?

  19

  Nightmares

  Because I really believed I had seen those things in Kiera’s face that night, I began to settle more comfortably into school, as well as into the mansion. I made some acquaintances in my classes, but no one struck me as a possible best girlfriend. Maybe it was because of my limp. Maybe it was because of my looks. Or maybe it was because of the rumors that circulated about me, rumors Kiera probably had planted. Whatever the cause, I felt a gap between me and the other girls, a gap that seemed to be widening and not narrowing with every passing day.

  As the first weeks and then months went by, I heard of parties some girls in my classes had, but no one ever invited me to any. I knew there were girls who got together on the weekends and went to movies or to hang out in malls, where they could flirt with boys, but no one had asked me to join them. Sometimes I felt that girls were friendly to me just in the hope that I would invite them to the March house. When they talked about it and I said nothing, they usually drifted away.

  Mrs. March continually asked me about my days at school and how I was getting along with the other girls. I tried to sound as upbeat as I could, and she accepted it, either because she believed it or because she wanted to believe it. Reports about my initial work began to flow back to her and Mr. March. When he was home for dinner, he would compliment me about it, and Kiera would either sulk or try to ignore it. What really got to her, I thought, was how quickly I was picking up the skills to play the clarinet. Mr. March was even more impressed than Mrs. March and came to my suite a few times to listen to me practicing.

  Kiera tried her best to make my accomplishments sound insignificant, especially after I played my first piece of music just before dinner one night in the living room. She didn’t want to listen, but both Mr. and Mrs. March insisted. I tried not to look her way, because her sour expression was enough to make Mr. Denacio himself fumble the notes.

  “I can’t believe how quickly she learned how to read music,” Mr. March said when I finished.

  “Maybe she already knew,” Kiera suggested. “From her old school.”

  “We had no orchestra, no band,” I said. “The school had major cutbacks in financing, and art and music were dropped.”

  “We know that to be true,” Mr. March said.

  “Well, her mother might have taught her stuff,” Kiera insisted.

  “I don’t think so,” Mrs. March said, her eyes fixed on me with such adoration I had to blu
sh. “She had other things on her agenda.” She turned to Kiera. “Like survival.”

  Frustrated, Kiera went into retreat. She didn’t say anything more about me or my past. When our first report cards came out and I had all A’s, she was practically a candidate for a straitjacket. She had nothing higher than a C and had two C-minuses. Mr. March looked disappointed, but it was Mrs. March who went after her at dinner that night.

  “You told me you and your friends formed this homework club for after-school sessions because the first half of your senior year was so important, didn’t you?”

  “These teachers hate me,” Kiera moaned. “They resent us because we’re so rich.”

  Her father looked up. “Why, did someone say something to you that would indicate that?”

  “They don’t come right out and say it, Daddy. They’re too smart for that, but I can see it in their faces.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Mrs. March said. “Every girl and boy in that school comes from a wealthy family. How else could they attend with the tuition being as high as it is? No one would single you out for that, Kiera. It’s a pathetic excuse for your failure to care about your work.”

  “Your mother’s right, Kiera,” her father said. “If a girl like Sasha can do so well, considering her background, you can, too. I want to see more of an effort from you.”

  Her face deflated. Her eyes filled with tears. She looked at me and bit down on her upper lip. “It’s the therapy!” she cried. “It’s driving me nuts. I can’t think.”

  “You could go to prison if you don’t follow through on that,” her mother said.

  Kiera looked to her father, but he didn’t disagree.

  “Well, you’ll just have to put up with me until I’m finished with it, then,” she said in the exact manner and tone of a spoiled girl. She went back to her pouting and pecked at her food.

  I didn’t gloat, but inside I felt good about myself for the first time in a long time. It inspired me to work even harder. I was beginning to enjoy the clarinet, as well, and some nights I practiced for close to two hours. I overheard Kiera complain to her father about the noise, but he told her just to put on her earphones like she did most of the time. That brought a smile to my lips.