"Can't Jessica come have tea with us again?" Hope looked up at Daphne.
"I think Jessica probably wants to go home," Daphne said in a low voice, still not looking at me.
Daphne started walking up the driveway toward her house. I waited for her to look back, to say something. When she didn't, I called, "Are you mad at me?"
She glanced over her shoulder. "What makes you think I'm mad at you?" Her voice was cold and unfriendly.
"Because of what I did." I looked down at the ground, ashamed to face her. "I'm sorry I went to the ladies' room," I mumbled. "It was a dumb thing to do."
When Daphne didn't answer, I raised my eyes. She was standing in the same place, her back to me.
"I said I'm sorry!" I yelled, beginning to feel annoyed. I was apologizing, wasn't I? What more did she want?
Daphne spun around then. "You just didn't want them to see you with me, did you?" Her face was full of hurt and anger, and her voice trembled.
I shook my head, but I couldn't deny it. "You don't understand, Daphne." Even to me, my voice sounded whiny.
"Oh yes, I do." She glared at me. "I hate Adelphia and I hate that school and I hate all the kids who go there. I'm never going back, never!" Her eyes filled with tears, and she tried to wipe them away with the back of her hand.
"When you get well, you're coming back, aren't you?"
She shook her head vigorously. "I'm not sick, there's nothing wrong with me at all. I lied to you about having mononucleosis." Losing the battle against her tears, Daphne buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
Hope put her arms around Daphne's waist and hugged her. "Don't cry, Daphne, don't cry. Grandmother said you didn't ever have to go back to that school. Remember? She said it was a bad school."
"But Daphne," I said, "it's against the law not to go to school. You can't just stop going."
Daphne sighed. "You don't understand, Jessica. It's not just Tony and Scott and Michelle. It's more than that."
"What is it? What's wrong?"
Daphne shrugged and gazed past me at the sky. "There's no sense in telling you because there's nothing you can do. There's nothing anybody can do." She looked as if she were about to cry again, and Hope patted her arm protectively.
"It can't be that bad, Daphne," I said apprehensively.
"If I tell you what's really wrong, will you promise not to tell anybody? Not your mother, or Mr. O'Brien, or anyone?" Daphne looked at me solemnly.
I nodded. "You can trust me," I whispered, hoping she really could.
"Well," Daphne hesitated as if it were hard for her to go on. "It's my grandmother. I'm really worried about her. She's getting stranger and stranger, Jessica. I'm afraid to leave her alone."
"Why?" Daphne's pale face frightened me. "What do you think she'd do?" My mind was racing with images of madness, things I'd read about in books, scenes I'd watched on television late at night.
"You heard the things she was saying about Daddy and the house falling down. She scares Hope to death talking like that. Little kids don't know what to believe. They get so confused."
"But couldn't Hope go to kindergarten?"
"That's only half a day, Jessica." Daphne shook her head. "I can't leave Hope alone with her."
I tried to think of something to tell Daphne, some good advice, a solution to all her problems, but my mind refused to produce a single idea. "Couldn't we talk to my mother? She'd know what to do."
"No. You promised, Jessica, you promised not to tell anyone!" Daphne stared at me, her eyes begging me not to betray her.
"But you can't just stay home. Someone will find out, and you'll get in trouble. You could get taken to court or something."
"Not if everyone thinks I'm sick. Don't you understand, Jessica? If you tell your mother, Hope and I will end up in an orphanage, and they'll put Grandmother in a mental hospital." Daphne began to cry again, big sobs that shook her whole body.
"I won't tell anyone, Daphne, I promise." I patted her arm clumsily, and Hope hugged her, but she didn't stop crying for a long time.
Finally she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and blew her nose. "I'm sorry, Jessica. I didn't mean to be such a crybaby, but I'm so scared and worried." She gave me a shaky, lopsided grin and scooped Hope up into her arms. "It's okay, Hopesy. I won't cry anymore."
Hope planted a big, wet, noisy kiss on Daphne's cheek and tweaked her nose. "You be happy, Daphne, or I'll punch you."
Daphne laughed and twirled round and round with Hope on her hip. Their hair swung out, and when Daphne put Hope down, they both staggered a little, dizzy from the spinning.
"I wish I could think of some way to help," I said.
"Just bring me my homework and keep everybody convinced that I'm really sick. Don't let anybody find out about Grandmother." She looked at me earnestly. "Please?"
Still wishing I could persuade her to let Mom help, I promised Daphne I wouldn't tell anybody. "You don't hate me, too, do you?" I asked her, remembering what she'd said about Oakcrest and the kids who went there.
Daphne shook her head. "You're not like the rest of them. I thought you were at first, but I know now that you're different. You're smart, for one thing. And you write wonderful stories."
We smiled at each other, and Hope skipped around us, singing one of her Baby Mouse songs. Above our heads tall clouds, white on the top and purple on the bottom, swept across the sky, trailing their shadows over the field.
Looking down the driveway toward the house, I was startled to see Mrs. Woodleigh hobbling toward us. She was walking in and out of cloud shadows, her hair blowing in white tufts around her face like milkweed silk bursting out of its pods.
"Daphne and Hope," Mrs. Woodleigh cried when she saw us. "Where have you been?"
Before Daphne or Hope could answer, she grabbed each one by an arm and gave them a little shake. She was trembling and her voice was shrill with fright. "Don't ever go away like that again! I've been so worried. You know all the awful things that happen to young girls!"
As Daphne started to apologize, Mrs. Woodleigh noticed me. For a second she stared at me, bewildered, as if she'd never seen me before. In the sunlight, her face looked terribly old and fragile, deeply etched with wrinkles and quivering with anger.
"It's you again, is it?" She stepped closer and waved a clenched fist at me. "You go home, girl, and don't come back here again. I know your kind, leading my children away, teaching them your Adelphia ways. You're a bad girl, a bad girl! Go on, now, get off my property!"
I backed fearfully away, and Hope thrust herself between her grandmother and me. "No, no, don't make Jessica leave!"
Mrs. Woodleigh grasped Hope's shoulders. "Don't you tell me what to do!"
"Let me go, let me go! You're hurting me," Hope cried.
As Hope struggled to escape, Mrs. Woodleigh fell down on her knees and hugged Hope to her bosom. "No, baby, don't. Don't turn against me."
Daphne touched Mrs. Woodleigh on the shoulder. "Come on, Grandmother. Let's go home," she said softly.
Releasing Hope, who was now in tears, Mrs. Woodleigh got up stiffly, her face full of misery. Without looking at me, she allowed Daphne to lead her away.
Not knowing what to do, I watched the three of them walk down the driveway. When they reached a curve, Daphne looked back and waved, and Hope called, "Come back soon, Jessica!"
As I walked slowly home, I asked myself again and again what I could do to help Daphne. Confused and unhappy, I paused on the footbridge near our house. If there were only someone I could talk to, someone who would know exactly what to do.
Below the bridge, the creek gurgled over stones, swirling and frothing, carrying little twigs and bits of trash along with it. Glancing at the place on the bank where Daphne and I had built a little shelter for the mice, I saw that someone or something had wrecked it. The twig roof was scattered and the stone walls were broken. Reaching deeply into my pocket, I caressed the three mice. I was glad they hadn't been in the shelter when it was destroyed.
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The sun set slowly behind our townhouses and the air lost its warmth as I trudged slowly up the hill toward home. When I opened the front door, I heard Mom and Ed laughing in the kitchen. They were working on dinner together, chopping up peppers and onions and making silly jokes like a couple of teenagers. Luckily they were more interested in each other than they were in me. It wouldn't have taken much attention from Mom to make me break down and tell her everything. I wanted to talk to her so badly, but I had to keep my promise. I'd let Daphne down too many times already.
Sunday dragged by in a gray mist of rain, and I kept myself busy working on a book report for English and studying for a science test. By the time I went to bed, I had convinced myself that I was getting sick and would not have to go to school on Monday.
Unfortunately it was a lot harder to convince Mom that I was sick. Like it or not, I had to go to school, and that meant I had to face Michelle and Tracy.
To postpone seeing them as long as possible, I dawdled over my breakfast and then walked to school as slowly as possible. When I got to the playground, I knew I was late. There wasn't a person in sight, and all the buses were gone. For a minute I was very upset because I knew I'd have to go to the office for a pass, but then I realized that I'd saved myself from meeting anyone in the hall. Nobody would be waiting by my locker to tease me about McDonald's.
By avoiding making eye contact with anyone, I got through the first two periods without any problems, but my luck ran out in English. Mr. O'Brien had gone over our stories and drawings and decided that most of us were ready to bind our books.
Since Daphne, of course, wasn't in school, I had to do ours all by myself. All around me, I could hear the other kids laughing and talking as they worked. Never had I felt so lonely.
It was almost a relief when I saw Michelle and Tracy walking toward me. For a few minutes they stood without speaking, one on either side of me, watching me bind the book. Michelle was so close to me that I could smell the bubble gum she was chewing.
I tried to pretend I didn't see them, but Michelle finally popped her gum so loudly that I jumped.
"Been to McDonald's lately?" Michelle's voice had an icy edge.
I shook my head and tried to concentrate on my book.
"What were you doing in there? Spying on us?"
I stared at Michelle, genuinely surprised. "Why would I spy on you?"
She shrugged. "Maybe you wanted to find out what Tracy and me were doing with Tony and Scott." She stared back at me from under purple eyelids.
I shook my head. "I wasn't spying, honestly."
"But you were with Daffy, weren't you?" Michelle persisted.
I pressed my book carefully into its cover. Without looking at her, I nodded.
"Are you getting to be friends with her?" Tracy asked.
"She's not so bad, you know," I mumbled. "Really, when you get to know her, she's pretty nice." But I didn't look at either one of them.
"Daffy?" Michelle snorted.
I could feel my face getting redder and redder, and I shoved my glasses back onto the bridge of my nose.
Michelle leaned closer to me. "She's not really sick, is she? I mean not physically. She looked perfectly healthy to me."
"I think she's just hooking school," Tracy added. "Her little sister said she was too smart to go. That sounds like hooking to me."
"She has mononucleosis," I said, "and it takes a long time to get over it. Hope was just confused."
At this, Michelle burst out laughing. "Daffy has mono? Are you kidding?"
"What's so funny about that?" I stared at Michelle, puzzled.
"You know how you get it, don't you?" Michelle continued to laugh.
When I didn't say anything, Michelle shook her head and rolled her eyes at Tracy. "You get it from kissing," she said. "It's called the kissing disease. Who would kiss Daffy?"
"That's not true. You get it from drinking out of the same glass, not from kissing!" I glared at Michelle.
But she and Tracy just laughed. "Maybe she kissed Donald Duck!" Michelle almost swallowed her gum cackling at her own joke.
As she started quacking and making kissing sounds, Mr. O'Brien walked up to us. "What's going on here?" He frowned at Michelle.
"Nothing." Michelle stopped laughing and gave me a nasty look.
"Have you two finished binding your book?" he asked.
Tracy nodded and held it up for him to see. "Does it look okay?"
Mr. O'Brien took "The Nightmare Slumber Party" and flipped the pages. "Fine, it looks fine." Handing it back to Tracy, he told her and Michelle to go back to their seats.
When they were gone, he looked at "The Mysterious Disappearance of Sir Benjamin Mouse." Patting my arm, he smiled. "It looks beautiful, Jessica, really lovely. Is Daphne feeling any better?"
I nodded, ashamed to look at him. It was one thing to lie to Michelle, but Mr. O'Brien was different.
"Did you talk to her grandmother about the tutor?"
"I gave her the letter," I said uneasily.
"I hope she gets one soon. I'd hate to see a girl as intelligent as Daphne fail a grade." He smiled at me. "Next time you see Daphne, tell her I miss her and I'm looking forward to having her return to school. Maybe I'll drop by her house one afternoon and see how she's doing."
I nodded, and he moved on to another desk to check the work Tony and Scott were doing on their war story. As I put the finishing touches on my book, I hoped Mr. O'Brien wouldn't have time to drive out to Daphne's house. One look at Mrs. Woodleigh would probably send him to the Board of Education, and then Daphne and Hope would end up in an orphanage for sure.
Eleven
WEDNESDAY EVENING I was in my room doing my math homework when the phone rang. Josh bellowed up the stairs that it was for me, so I put down my pencil and went to answer it.
To my surprise, it was Daphne. "I thought you didn't have a telephone," I said.
"I'm at the pay phone at McDonald's." Daphne's voice sounded high and worried.
"You didn't walk there, did you? Not by yourself?" I was horrified. It was dark and cold outside.
"It's not far." She paused, and I could hear a car start up and drive away. In the background, cars roared past on Route 210.
"Aren't you freezing?" I pictured the pay phone outside McDonald's with nothing around it to shelter it from the wind.
"A little." Daphne paused again, her voice uncertain. "I just wanted to talk to somebody. Hope and Grandmother are both asleep, and I got kind of lonely."
I twisted the telephone cord around my finger and tried to think of something interesting to tell her. Here she'd walked all the way to McDonald's in the dark and the cold just to talk to me, and I didn't know what to say. "We bound the books Monday," I finally blurted out, "and ours is definitely the best one in the whole class. Mr. O'Brien loves it, and he told me to tell you he misses you."
"Did he really say that?" Daphne sounded pleased.
"Yes. He sent all the books off to be judged yesterday, and he said we'll probably hear early in April."
"That's a long time from now," Daphne said. "What are you doing in English?"
"We're finishing up grammar and we're starting a unit on poetry next week. That should be a lot more interesting."
"Yes," Daphne said. "I like poetry."
"Me, too."
There was another silence. "Would you be able to come out and see me after school tomorrow?" Daphne finally asked. "I know it's a long walk, but maybe your mother could pick you up after she gets off work."
She sounded so lonely that I couldn't refuse. "Will you meet me at the mailbox?" I asked.
"Are you sure you don't mind? I don't want you to come if it's inconvenient or anything." Daphne's voice was filled with uncertainty.
"No, no, it's fine. I'd like to come," I said. "I'll bring the mice."
"Thanks, Jessica. I'll see you tomorrow." Daphne sounded happier.
After I hung up, I went to my room and looked out the window. It w
as almost ten o'clock, and the night looked cold and scary. I tried to imagine Daphne walking along Route 210, cars speeding past her, their headlights flashing across her face. Picturing Cook's Lane in the dark, I shivered. The very thought of being alone in the night frightened me, and I hoped that Daphne would get home safely.
When I left school on Thursday, the weather had turned raw and cold. The sky was heavy with dark clouds, and the wind had a damp, cutting edge that pierced my parka and chilled my bones. By the time I got to Cook's Lane, I was cold all the way through.
As I reached the top of a hill, I saw Daphne and Hope waiting for me, huddled together by the mailbox. Their parkas were the only color in the wintry landscape of brown fields and gray skies.
"Did you bring them?" Hope ran to meet me and seized my hands. "Is Baby Mouse in your pocket?"
I pulled him out and gave him to her, and she capered away, squeaking her Baby Mouse song. Daphne and I looked at each other and laughed at Hope.
"You're so silly, Hopesy-Dopesy!" Daphne ran after her sister, and tried to tickle her, but Hope squirmed away, giggling, and darted ahead of us toward the house.
"Do you want to come inside for a while?" Daphne asked. "Grandmother's asleep now. She doesn't usually wake up until four or four-thirty. I'll fix you a cup of tea."
"Are you sure she won't wake up?" While I hesitated, a gust of cold wind buffeted me. The icy edge of it took my breath away, and I decided to risk encountering Mrs. Woodleigh.
Very quietly we slipped into the house. While Daphne fixed tea, I played with one of the cats, and Hope crawled around the floor with Baby Mouse. I knew they both wanted me to enjoy myself, but it was hard to relax, knowing that Mrs. Woodleigh was upstairs. Every creak the house made sounded like her getting out of bed and coming downstairs.
"I like those ribbons in your hair." Hope leaned against me and toyed with the ribbons hanging from my barette. "They look pretty."
"Thank you, Hope." I gave her a little hug. She felt tiny, all bones, but she snuggled against me happily and walked Baby Mouse up and down my arm.
Daphne put our teacups on the table and sat down. "Did you bring me any homework?"