The chaperone, p.6
The Chaperone, page 6
“He punched you in the face.”
“I barely felt it.”
I point to her lip. Even from a foot away, the metallic smell of blood reaches me. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s a tiny bit of blood. It’s nothing.”
“Still, I could never—”
Sister Laura stops and puts her hands on her hips. “Don’t underestimate yourself, Stella. I’m confident you could handle it.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, I do.” She shakes her head, the disappointment in her eyes as clear as the cloudless sky above. “That’s why I fought him. I want you to understand what you’re capable of. We’re stronger than they want us to believe, Stella.”
Sister Laura might think that, but she’s wrong. I could never fight a man.
“The truth is, I’m more pissed than hurt.”
“At him?”
“No, at myself.”
“Why?”
“For letting my guard down. I just couldn’t believe he said that.”
“I mean, you are a girl. Of course, you fight like one—”
“He didn’t mean it that way. He didn’t mean it as a statement of fact. He was insulting women. Saying we’re not as good as men.” She pushes her glasses up her nose. “You think I’d be used to it by now.”
I have no idea what she means, but I’m not about to ask. I didn’t want to act unconcerned, but I also don’t want to let her in.
CHAPTER 17
The library is exactly the same as before. The giant oak table. The worn-out carpet. The serious armchairs. The books scattered like left-out toys. The only thing missing is Sister Helen. At least Sister Laura sticks to this part of our routine, letting me hang out in the library until it’s time to go home for dinner. I’m rereading A Wrinkle in Time, the first book Sister Helen and I read together.
When I get to the part that says, Believing takes practice, I remember Sister Helen saying, “I think that’s true, Stella, don’t you?” I wipe my eyes before Sister Laura notices, but when I glance at her chair, she isn’t there anymore. Thank God.
I drop my gaze back to the book but can no longer concentrate. I crane my neck, searching for her. She was here a minute ago, and now she’s gone.
My pulse quickens. Why isn’t she here? She’s supposed to be here. That’s her only job.
That’s when it hits me.
I’m alone.
In public.
For the first time in my whole life, I’m out in the world alone.
CHAPTER 18
I’ve never been alone in public before. Not that I remember. Before Sister Helen, I never went anywhere without Mom or Dad.
But now I am really and truly alone.
Alone.
My heart thumps in my chest like one of those rap songs from Old America. It’s terrifying. And exhilarating. But what if something goes wrong?
Moving my head in a slow circle, I search for Sister Laura, scanning every crevice and corner. Between the rows of books. Behind my chair. Under the table. Even up on the ceiling. But I can’t find her.
What if someone sees me? Being alone in public is against the law for a girl my age. I could be arrested. Or shunned. What if someone attacks me? On the way in, we passed a few Climbers sitting around a smart screen near the circulation desk. Will they come after me? I know all too well what happens when girls my age are left alone with a group of men. The inappropriate comments. The unwanted grabbing. Or worse. They’ve been teaching us about that as long as we’ve been in school. That’s why we have chaperones. To protect us from all the evil in the world. But my chaperone has abandoned me.
Cortisol courses through my blood. The body’s natural response to danger. They teach us that too. The fight-or-flight instinct.
Should I run? Or look for a place to hide? But where? If I leave the library, it’s even more likely I’ll get assaulted. Or kidnapped. Or run into a constable. Girls who sneak out alone get expelled and sent to govie. If that happened, I couldn’t get into college or make a good match for marriage. My whole life would be ruined. No, I can’t run. It’s too dangerous. I have no choice but to sit here. Sit here and wait. Pray no one sees me.
Praise God for protecting women from harm.
Please, please, God. Please protect me from harm.
A minute later Sister Laura strolls out of the stacks and plops down in the chair next to me like it’s the most normal thing in the world for her to do.
“Where were you?” I hiss at her.
She nods toward the far wall. “I was in the stacks.”
I glance in that direction and back at Sister Laura, but she’s flipping through the book in her hand like nothing unusual happened.
Like she didn’t just break the biggest rule in the world.
* * *
I’m still livid on the walk home.
A convoy of red SUVs fly past us like they’re headed to a fire. When they pass, a shiver runs through my entire body. What if they had caught me?
As soon as they’re gone, I wheel on Sister Laura. “How could you leave me?”
“Oh, don’t be silly. I didn’t leave you. I was a few feet away.”
“What if something happened?”
“I would have heard you. Besides nothing was going to happen. I promise.”
“You can’t know that. Being in public is dangerous.”
“Oh, please. This town couldn’t be any safer. There are constables on every corner. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Then why did we go to self-defense?”
She slows her pace and tilts her head in my direction. “You have to try new things if you want to grow, Stella. And learning how to be on your own—and stay safe—is a big part of that.”
“But being alone is against the rules. What if I had been attacked?”
“You were fine.”
“How do you know?”
Sister Laura increases her pace without answering my question. Neither of us says another word until we’re nearing the old planetarium. “I want to ask you something.”
I make the mistake of glancing at her.
“Why were you afraid?”
“Obviously because I was alone.”
“Are you sure that’s what frightened you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Maybe it was something new, something you never experienced before, giving you that rush of adrenaline.”
“That wasn’t it. I was really afraid.”
Sister Laura stops abruptly, and I stop too. She catches my eye before I can look away. “Did you really think you might be attacked, Stella?”
I’m so infuriated, I start walking again. How dare she ask me—yet again—if my emotions were real. Of course, I was afraid.
Wasn’t I?
CHAPTER 19
At home, I go straight to the kitchen where I know Mom will be cooking dinner. I will Sister Laura to her room, but she follows me like a hungry dog.
I call out as soon as I see her. “Mom?”
She’s stirring something on the stove. “Yes, Stella?” Shea sits at the table drawing a bright red monster. I expect to see Tiffany, but there’s no sign of her.
“Where’s Tiffany?”
Mom returns my stare and lets out a sigh. “She’s at the police station.”
“The police station. Why?”
“Everyone who was in the house that day has to be questioned and fingerprinted, Stella. Tiffany is no exception. I don’t like it any more than you do. But we don’t have a choice.” Mom puts her wooden spoon down. “Did you need something?”
“This isn’t going to work.” I flick my eyes at Sister Laura and then back at Mom. “Sister Laura isn’t going to work.”
Mom’s slams a lid on the pot in front of her. “Stella, honestly, do we have to do this today? I had to spend hours with the police—”
“You too? Why?”
“I just told you why.”
I have more questions, but I’m desperate to tell her what happened. “Sister Laura left me alone at the library today.”
“Alone?” Mom’s tone changes from irritation to surprise as she turns to Sister Laura. “Really?”
“I was wrong to let Stella believe that, Mrs. Graham. What she doesn’t understand is that I could see her, but she couldn’t see me.”
“You’re lying! You said you could hear me, but you never said you could see me.”
“I was testing you, Stella. I wanted to see how you would respond.”
Mom raises her eyebrows. I’m ready for her to chastise Sister Laura, but instead she turns back to me. “We don’t want to bring the constables into this, Stella.”
“Do you even care?” I spin toward Sister Laura. “Do either of you care that something could have happened to me? That I could have been kidnapped?”
Mom glances at Sister Laura, and something passes between them. A knowing look. As if they have information I don’t. Like Mom is siding with Sister Laura. I shake my head in disgust.
“Stella—” Mom uses the pleading voice she uses to defend something she can’t possibly defend, but I don’t hear the rest. I’m gone before she feeds me a totally unbelievable explanation.
I yell over my shoulder loud enough for them to hear. “I’m telling Dad the minute he gets home!”
* * *
As soon as my face hits the pillow, I scream as loud as I can. I don’t care if they hear me. I want them to hear me. It’s not lost on me that I’m acting like the teenage girls in the movies from Old America. For the first time, I get why they slam doors and roll their eyes so much. No one understands. I flip over and stare at the ceiling, wishing I had stars stuck there like the movie teenagers do.
Sister Laura’s words come back to me. Are you sure that’s what frightened you? Maybe it was something new, something you never experienced before.
She’s wrong. I am afraid of being alone in public.
Aren’t I?
My bedroom is the only place I’m allowed to be alone. A beautiful cell decorated like it belongs in a photo shoot. Directly across from my bed is a marble fireplace. On the other side of the room, in front of one of three large windows, my desk sits under a beaded chandelier. The desk is giant—big enough to spread out at least a dozen books. It belonged to my maternal grandfather. My mother says he was highly intelligent, sometimes claiming I remind her of him. Built-in bookshelves line the walls on either side of the windows, packed with books from top to bottom. Some were given to me by Sister Helen, the others belonged to my mother and her mother before her. The women inside those books didn’t do what was expected of them. They pushed themselves. They set out on their own.
They weren’t afraid.
Am I really afraid?
Or is that just what I’ve been taught?
Is Sister Laura right?
She’s only been here two days, and I already hate her. But I also can’t stand that she thinks I’m afraid.
It hits me as clearly as the Master hit Sister Laura.
I don’t have to like her to get what I want out of her.
And what I want is freedom.
CHAPTER 20
I figure things will start slowly, and at first they do.
After dinner, Sister Laura brings me a stapled booklet with the words THE ALLEGORY OF THE CAVE stamped on a plain brown cover.
“Keep it inside another book.” She runs her finger across my bookshelves until she comes to I Capture the Castle. “This one.” She taps it. “A castle is like a cave.”
“You want me to hide it?” Sister Helen gave me books to read all the time, but she never told me to hide any of them.
“I want you to be the only one who knows it’s here.”
The first paragraph doesn’t grab me, but once I find out the people living in the cave have been kept in chains since birth, I can’t stop reading. When I get to the part where one of them is freed, I feel my heart racing. What would that be like? To be free after being chained your whole life?
But it’s when I read about what happens to the person who leaves the cave that I start to cry. The idea that you could spend your entire life in the dark and then suddenly be exposed to light is both heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time.
By the time I close the booklet, I have goose bumps up and down both arms.
* * *
In the morning Sister Laura doesn’t mention the booklet or anything else. We walk in silence along the tree-lined streets. What would it be like to make the trip by myself? Would I be afraid? Would I be worried someone was watching? Or would I feel liberated? Like the person who gets out of the cave?
I tilt my head back and close my eyes for the briefest moment as I imagine that kind of freedom. The sun warms my face, and I breathe in the sweet smell of late summer clematis. Yes, it would be scary in some ways, but it would also be intoxicating. When I open my eyes, Sister Laura is staring at me.
“What?”
“You tell me.”
I take in a deep breath and let go of the fear. It will be different this time because it will be my choice. “We can try again.”
“Try what?” The flicker in Sister Laura’s eyes tells me she knows exactly what I mean.
“Don’t make me ask.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I was afraid because it was new. All my life I’ve been told that if I went out in public alone, I’d be attacked. Or kidnapped. Or worse. I never thought it was safe.”
“That’s what they want you to believe.”
“I want to find out for myself.”
A tiny smile emerges on her face. She’s pleased. And I have no idea how that makes me feel.
* * *
At the library I try my best to act normal, taking out the book Sister Laura found for me, but I’m too excited to process the words. I read the first line over and over, but nothing gets through. I can’t wait for her to go.
She must sense my impatience, getting to her feet right away. I see her moving out of the corner of my eye but don’t react. I close my eyes and count. When I get to one hundred, I open them and look over both shoulders to make sure she’s really gone. I turn back around and that’s when I see them.
Two eyes.
They’re behind the row of books directly in front of me, peeking through an empty space on the shelf.
I know those eyes.
Those are the eyes of Mateo de Velasco.
Normally he stares out the window in the back of the classroom with longing. As if he’s gazing at the ocean instead of a parking lot. But now it’s me he’s contemplating.
Our eyes lock on each other, and my whole body flushes with emotion. Even from fifteen feet away, I notice his irises are the same color as the moss that grows on the banks of Shanty Hollow.
Am I supposed to say something?
But that’s against the rules. Especially in public. Especially alone. And who knows who’s watching?
He holds a single hand up. It’s the simplest wave I’ve ever seen, but it says so much. I don’t care about the rules. I want to reach you.
I glance behind me. No one is there. I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
When I turn back around, Mateo has vanished.
I gasp out loud, covering my mouth when I hear the sound.
He’s gone.
CHAPTER 21
Sister Laura and I stroll toward home. The sun hasn’t set, but its intensity wanes. Dusk takes over with its ethereal magic. Sister Laura hasn’t said a word since we left the library. She seems to intuitively understand when I need space. I could tell her about Mateo—she’d never breathe a word to anyone—but doing so means letting down a wall I haven’t let down yet. It means letting her in.
“What is it?” she asks as if she can read my mind. I must have peeked at her. I keep walking and weigh my options. I can tell Bonita or Liv and risk them letting it slip. Or I can tell Sister Laura.
I don’t have much choice. She’s my shadow. I can befriend the shadow or make it my enemy.
I choose the former.
* * *
Once I tell her, everything changes. I try to stop it, but it’s too late.
I’m already in bed when she knocks on my door. “Stella? Can I come in?”
This is exactly what I was afraid of. Now that I’ve let down the wall, I’ll never be able to put it back up. Regret sits in my chest like a hard tumor.
“Okay.” I use a voice I hope is too soft to reach her. But she must have supersonic hearing because the knob turns a second later.
She’s wearing sweatpants and a gray T-shirt with a white squirrel on the front. It’s only the second time I’ve seen her without a caftan. She looks so normal. Her right hand is lifted high in the air, as if she’s carrying a gift. She comes to the bed and holds it out to me: a glazed donut on a linen napkin. Underneath it is a blue book.
“Where did you get that?”
“I have my ways,” she says cryptically as she pushes the donut toward me. “Go ahead.”
It’s clearly a bribe, but I take it. I’m not about to turn down a donut in the middle of the week. “Thanks,” I say in the least thankful voice I have.
She holds up the book. “For you.” A simple drawing of a white room appears under the words A Room of One’s Own. She pulls A Room with a View off the bookshelf and removes the dust jacket. “Both have the word room in the title.”
Is this becoming a habit?
“So only I know it’s there?”
“That’s right.”
“Am I allowed to read books like these? Aren’t they banned?”
“Technically, yes, but books shouldn’t be banned. Ignorance should not be a goal.”
“You mean, like the people in the cave?”
“Exactly.” She glances at the chair on the other side of the bed. Sister Helen’s chair. “Can I sit?”
“I guess so.”
I bite into the donut as she gets settled: pulling her legs underneath her, cleaning her glasses, and finally leaning against the chair like she intends to stay a while.
