The French Girl (9 page)

Jean had just taken a mouthful of the pizza and stopped chewing. “Really?” she said after she swallowed. “Good for you, Etoile. That’s very good indeed.”

I ate two more slices of the pizza, leaving my stomach feeling quite full.  We all helped clean up. I stood on one side of Giselle and Jean on the other as Giselle passed dishes to us to be dried. It reminded me of the old house in Cote Nouveau when Maman and Papa would work on things side by side.

“Look at us,” Giselle said, echoing my thoughts.  “It’s like we have been doing this forever,” she said as she cupped some bubbles in the palm of her hand and wiped them on my chin.  She then tried to do the same thing to Jean, but Jean shifted out of her way and we all laughed as Giselle jumped up and plopped a pile of bubbles on her hair. Jean surprised me by setting the plate she was drying aside and scooping up a bunch of bubbles in the palm of her hand.  She grabbed Giselle by the waist. Giselle tried to get away, yelling “No, No” but Jean did not let her go. Jean very easily lifted Giselle off her feet and with one hand, covered her face with bubbles.  I could not help but laugh as Giselle grabbed the towel from my hands and wiped her face off.  It had been a long time since I could remember laughing.  Jean held her hand up very high and I jumped up and slapped it.

“Ha ha,” Giselle said, “You two just wait.  I will have my revenge,” she said. Pointing to me she said, “You will wake up covered in bubbles and you,” she said as she grabbed the faucet sprayer, “You will get the bubbles rinsed off!” she said as she let loose a quick spray at Jean’s head.

“Truce!” Jean yelled. Giselle took a dry towel and rubbed Jean’s hair roughly as Jean bent forward.  Jean smiled at her and for a moment, they touched their foreheads together.

Dessert was more of Giselle’s ice cream covered with walnuts and a home-made caramel sauce that was better than anything I had ever tasted, not too sweet but drizzling warm and smooth. Giselle was smiling as she watched me eat and had just brought a spoonful to her own mouth when I said, “Giselle, your ice cream is ever better than Monsieur Segal’s.”

Giselle’s hand paused at her mouth and she immediately lowered her spoon. I saw the sudden change in her expression.

“Etoile,” she began, “do me a favor and do not wreck our nice dinner by mentioning that man’s name.”

Jean glanced up sharply and looked at her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“It is alright,” Giselle said.  “I just do not want to hear his name, okay?”

“Yes, but…”

“Finish up.  It is almost time for bed.”

After we cleared the dishes, Jean nodded at me and said, “Good night, Etoile. And good luck at school tomorrow.”

In the middle of it all, I had forgotten about school.  My stomach gave a little twist. Giselle wrestled with the window in my room to get it open.

“I always like to sleep with the window open just a little to get fresh air, but if that is too much,” she said, “just shove it back down.”

I suddenly thought about the kitchen window in Cote Nouveau.

Giselle sat down on the edge of my bed and touched my hair.

“Do you think we look alike?” she asked fingering my curls.

“I guess.  Jean says so. I thought so when I looked in the mirror.”

Giselle smiled.  “Then I must be very beautiful,” she said as she leaned forward and kissed my forehead.

“Giselle?”

“
Oui, Cherie
?”

“I am sorry if I upset you at dinner, but I did not think that...”

Giselle touched my chin. “It is alright,
Cherie
.  We all carry memories with us no matter where we go.  Some are good and some are not so good,
non
?”

I thought about this for a moment.

“Slide over,” she said as she slid into the bed next to me.

She took my hand in hers. “Do you still want to know about Anais?”

“Yes! Please!”

“I am not sure with school tomorrow that this is the best time to talk, but if you want me to tell you what I know, I will.”

“I do, Giselle, please!”

Giselle patted my hand and let it drop. “You must understand that this will all work out and that most importantly, Anais is safe and no one will hurt her.
Comprenez-vous cela
? Do you understand that?”

“
Oui
.”

“The police are still not sure what happened to your Maman.  They know she fell, but they are not sure if she fell on her own or if someone may have accidentally pushed her.”

“But surely they do not think that Anais…”

“Etoile,” she said putting her arm around me, “they have Anais in custody until they figure out what happened, but she is safe.”

“Where is she?”

“She is in a special school for children who have problems in their lives. She lives there now.”

“You mean bad children?”

Giselle shook her head.  “No, I do not think any children are bad.  They may make the wrong choices sometimes, but I have never met a bad child.  These children are sometimes there because they have nowhere else to go or like Anais, the police want them where they can go to school and be safe.”

“But Anais would never hurt Maman,” I said.  “It was Maman who…”

I stopped because I did not want to speak of those things.

“Etoile,” Giselle said drawing me very close, “There were many things that happened to you, too – good and bad,
non
?”

I nodded because I could not speak.

“I am so sorry for you and for Anais.  If ever you want to talk about it, I am here to listen.” She waited for a little while and for a moment I almost told her everything, but I could not find a way to say the words.

“Do not worry about Anais.  This will all work itself out. It may just take some time.”

“How much time?”

“It may be a while.”

“But couldn’t Anais come and live here?” I asked.

“
Non, Cherie
, that is not possible.”

“But why not?”

“Because she is where she needs to be right now.”

I drew away from her. “But Anais took care of Maman, even when she had…bad days.”

“I know.  She was very, very brave. You both were.”

“So Anais will not be coming for me soon?”

“
Non,
but I have the address where she is staying at.  Perhaps you would like to write a letter to her?”

“Do you think she would write back?”

Giselle squeezed my shoulders.  “Of course she will.  And in the meantime, you will stay with Jean and I for as long as you like.  We are family after all.”

“But Jean is not family.”

“Of course she is.  You are my family and Jean is my family, so we are all family.”

“But you and Jean are not even related.”

“No, but believe me, we are family.”  She held out her left hand and displayed a silver ring with a very pretty green stone shaped like a heart on it.  I had noticed that both she and Jean always wore the same ring.  “Do you see this ring?”

“Yes.”

“One year, Jean and I were walking along a beach near her parents’ house when we stumbled across some sea glass in the sand.  It was a large piece and had such pretty colors in it.  I took the piece of sea glass home with us and always treasured it because it was such a pretty color and because I had such fond memories of that weekend.  That Christmas, Jean took the sea glass to a jeweler in Boston and had them make the two rings from it. We wear them, always, because we are family.  You do not have to be related to someone for them to be family.”

Giselle stood up and pulled the covers up under my chin. “I will wake you in the morning,” she said as she kissed me on both cheeks. “
Bonne nuit, Cherie.”

I laid in the bed staring at the ceiling as a soft breeze seeped through the crack of the window and touched my nose, my cheeks and my chin, as if the wind were kissing me goodnight.  A secret wind, I thought to myself…

CHAPTER SEVEN

“
Se réveiller
.  Wake up, Sleepy Head,” I heard Giselle say as I turned over in the bed. The bed seemed so big compared to sleeping on the sofa.  “Come on, it is a school day,” Giselle said shaking me by the knee.  “Hurry up and come down and I will make you breakfast.”

I took my time getting up. I was suddenly not so sure about any of this. I pulled the white blouse and plaid skirt on and went very quietly and very slowly downstairs.

“I am worried for her, Jean,” I heard Giselle say quietly as I was coming down.  I stopped and did not move further.

“She’ll be fine, Giselle.  She’s a bright girl.”

“But what if they ask questions? What if they want to know everything?”

“If they do, she’ll tell them whatever she chooses to. Children are naturally curious.  They are bound to ask questions.”

“Perhaps I should have told them she was not ready until Monday?”

“Giselle, the principal was right. It’s always better for children to get back into a routine as quickly as possible.  You’ve got to stop worrying so much.”

“I cannot help it, Jean.  I feel so…responsible for her.”

“Etoile!” I heard Giselle call, “Please come down so you do not miss your first day!”

I waited a second or two before strolling in.

Jean lowered her newspaper and nodded to me over her coffee cup as Giselle primped at my hair. “There,” she said brushing the curls behind my ears and setting a plate of poached eggs and a glass of orange juice down in front of me. “You look lovely.  Please do not spill any breakfast on your clean clothes.”

Jean folded the paper, stood up, rinsed her cup at the sink and reached for her backpack hung on a hook in the back hallway.

“Where are you going?” Giselle asked rather surprised.

“To work.”

“But I thought…”

“You thought what?”

Giselle glanced at me.  “I thought you would want to wait for Etoile to get on the school bus.”

“Giselle…” Jean began.

“It is a very long walk down the end of the driveway.  I thought we could drive her down and wait for her in the car. It is her first day after all.”

Jean shook her head and turned to me.  “Etoile, how old were you when you started school?” she asked.

“Six.”

“And how old are you now?”

“Eleven.”

Jean raised her eyebrows at Giselle.  “She’s been going to school for five years, Giselle. You can hardly call this her first day.”

Giselle bit her lower lip.  “But the road is so far down.”

“Etoile,” Jean said, “would you like us to wait with you in the car?”

I looked between them and did not know what to say.  I did not want to make Jean late for work and I did not want to upset Giselle, but I also did not want the children laughing at me.

“I will be fine to get on the bus by myself,” I announced.

Jean smiled.  “I’ll see you tonight,” she said kissing Giselle on the cheek.  “Have a good first day of school, Etoile,” she added laughing.

Giselle was not happy. “She does not understand,” she said after Jean left. Her hands moved quickly as she cleared the plates and set them down heavily into the sink. “Fine, but if it is raining out, I will insist that you be driven down.  I won’t have you walking into the school looking like
un rat noyé
, a drowned rat.  And remember to eat slowly when you get there,
Cherie.
”

I did not have the heart to explain to Giselle that there was no time to eat slowly at school.

***

I stood on the edge of the road holding one of Jean’s book bags. In it were some brand new pens, pencils and paper and a huge brown bag lunch that Giselle had spent much of last night preparing.

“Can I get one of those?” Jean had asked as she watched Giselle slice tender roast beef and layer it on
pain rustique
along with gorgonzola cheese, fresh greens and onions.

“No, Jean, it is not your first day of school,” Giselle replied, but later on I did see her make another sandwich and slip it into the refrigerator.

I stood at the end of the road waiting for the bus to come. Giselle stood on the front porch in front of the red door, her arms folded across her chest, watching me. When I saw the long yellow bus come down the road, I suddenly felt my knees grow weak.  I looked back at Giselle.  She gave a big wave and blew me a kiss. I quickly turned away.

***

Mrs. Darby greeted the buses and spotted me right away.

“Good morning, Etoile.  Do you remember the way to Mrs. Spenser’s classroom?”

I was not sure.

“I think so.”

Mrs. Darby gestured to another girl about my age with white-blonde pulled back in a ponytail wearing an off-white Gunne Sax dress.

“Winnie,” she said, “this is Etoile. Etoile, this is Winnie Wickham who is in your class.  Winnie, would you mind showing Etoile the way to Mrs. Spenser’s class?”

I remembered the girl’s name from the poster in the hall. She looked at me curiously for several seconds before breaking into a big smile.

“Come on,” she said taking off.  I raced through the throng of children to try and keep up with her.

“What kind of name is that?” she asked me on the stairs.

“French.”

“I like it.”

“What kind of name is yours?”

“English. It’s really Winifred, but please don’t ever call me that or I’ll have to kill you.”

She looked dead serious, but then she broke out in a wide grin, tilted her hair back and laughed.

“In that case,” I said, “do not ever call me Toilette or I will have to kill you, too.”

She grabbed me by the arm and dragged me up the stairs. Mrs. Spenser introduced me to the class again. I glanced around the room and my eyes paused at the boy with the bright red hair from the doctor’s office, Dale Batchelder. He was chewing on a pencil eraser when our eyes met.  Before I could look away, he took the pencil out of his mouth and snapped it in half.

***

School was very different here than in Cote Nouveau.  Instead of the entire class sitting quietly and listening to Mrs. Gordon as she told us about things, Mrs. Spenser broke us into different groups and let us do a lot of work on our own.  I was grateful that Winnie Wickham and I were in all of the same groups except for math.

My math group was with two other students, a shy girl with braces named Lisa, and Dale Batchelder.  Dale scowled when Mrs. Spenser led me to his table.  I could not imagine what I had done to him to make him dislike me so.

Mrs. Spenser came over and sat down with us to show us how to work some of the problems in our workbook.  As she spoke, I could not help but study the creases of her hands again with the dark black lines running through them.  I looked down at my own hands to see if the creases were a different color, but they were not.

“Etoile? Did you understand that?”

I stared at the problem for several seconds as I tried to make sense of it all.

“I think so.”

She laid her brown hand on my white arm and said, “Why don’t you try some problems on your own while I help the others?”

Without even realizing what I was doing, I took my other hand and placed my fingertips on her skin and traced the creases to see if the dark color felt any different.  She did not pull away.  I suddenly realized what I was doing and quickly withdrew my hands to my lap.  As soon as Mrs. Spenser left, Dale Batchelder leaned forward and said, “Are you going to kiss her, too?”

My face flushed as the heat rose in my cheeks.

I could not wait for math to be over with and was grateful when we switched to reading.  Winnie was in my group and we soon realized that we had both read many of the same books.

“I have read all of
Anne of Green Gables
,” Winnie announced.

“I am starting them.”

“And
Little House on the Prarie
.”

“So have I,” I said.

“Which do you like better, the show or the books?”

“I used to like to watch the show at my Maman’s, but now I don’t think I’ll get to see it much.”

Winnie twisted her ponytail and looked at me.

“Why not?”

“Jean says TV does little to stimulate the mind.”

“Who’s Jean?”

“She is… my cousin’s friend.”

Winnie shook her head.  “I really dig
The Bionic Woman
.  Have you ever seen that?”

“No.”

“She has all these far out super powers.  And, she’s the girlfriend of Steve Austin,
The Six Million Dollar Man
.
  She’s sort of like
Wonder Woman,
but different.”

Again I shook my head.

“You’ll have to come to my house,” Winnie announced.

I rarely went to my schoolmates’ houses in Cote Nouveau but stayed close to Maman. Winnie let me try on her mood ring. We both watched as it turned a gold-amber color.

“That says you are a little nervous.”

I looked at the ring, amazed.

“I guess I am a little nervous.”

“See? They really work.  Here, watch.  Give it back to me.”

Winnie slipped the ring back on her finger and we both leaned over and stared at it as the colors went from gold to a dark blue, the color of blueberries.

“Isn’t that the grooviest thing?  Blue means relaxed, happy.  You should ask your mother…” Winnie paused… “I mean your cousin for one.”

I did not say anything because I did not want to have to explain that I could not ask Giselle or Jean for things. They had already been very generous to me, though I did think it would be okay to mention that Winnie had let me try hers on.

A few times, I looked up to see Dale Batchelder staring at me.

“Do you know that boy, Dale?” I asked Winnie when we were at recess.

“Yes.  Why, do you like him?”

“Like him? No, I do not like him at all.  He keeps staring at me.”

Winnie Wickham peeked over her shoulder to where Dale was standing with some other boys.  Dale was wearing blue and brown plaid pants and a brown polyester shirt with a wide collar.  Without giving me any warning, she walked straight up to him and said, “Why are you staring at the new girl?”

Dale kicked the toes of his boots into the dirt beneath him. “I am not.”

“She says you are.”

Dale shrugged. Winnie walked back to me.

“He says he isn’t.”

“Why did you do that?” I asked aghast.  “I could have asked him myself.”

“Then why didn’t you?” she said striding off.  I ran to catch up with her.

“Because I did not want him to know I knew he was staring at me.  I only wanted to know if you knew why he was staring at me.”

“Oh.”

We stopped before the entrance of the school and Winnie dug deep into her dress pocket and pulled out a Yardley Pot O’Gloss.  “Want some?” she asked.

I was not sure if Giselle would consider this makeup and if she would approve. Still, I could not resist the strong fruity scent as I dipped my finger in and wiped some of the pink gloss across my lips. Winnie did the same and made a smacking sound with her lips.  I made the same sound and we both laughed until we saw Dale Batchelder staring at both of us from around the corner.

“I think he likes you,” Winnie said.  “My sister, Missie says boys that stare at you, like you.  Of course, she is much older and wears halter tops, so the boys stare at her all the time.”

“Your sister wears halter tops?” I asked.

“She does when my mother isn’t around.  She wears hot pants, too.  Sometimes she sneaks out wearing them under her regular clothes.  I know, because I saw her sneak in from a date wearing hot pants and a halter top.  If my mother had seen her, she would have been grounded for a year. Mother says girls who wear halter tops want only one thing.”

I was too embarrassed to ask what that one thing was, but wondered if Anais had ever worn a halter top.

***

Giselle was waiting for me as I got off the bus and began the long walk down the dirt driveway.

“Hello,
Cherie
,” she said giving me a hug.  “How was school?”

“I met a girl named Winnie Wickham.  She is very nice.  She let me wear some of her Yardley lip gloss.  I hope that was alright.”

Giselle set me at arm’s distance and inspected me. “I think it looks very nice as long as it is clear.  Perhaps we can get you some of your own next time we are in town.”

“Really?”

“As long as it is clear.”

“She also let me try on her mood ring and it turned gold when I had it on. Winnie said that meant I was nervous. Then Winnie put it back on her finger and it turned blue which means you are happy.”