Morning Star (14 page)

CHAPTER 34

Felicia

FELICIA REMOVED
the tacks from each corner of her poster, lifted it out of the case, and rolled it closed. As she turned to go, Mrs. Mackie stopped her.

“Wait. We have to deal with this.”

“I want to put it in my locker.”

“Not just yet. Let's go to my office.”

Felicia had never been in the principal's office before. It had a large desk covered with papers and a bookcase topped with framed family pictures. A window looked out through evergreen shrubs to the street. Mrs. Mackie talked to the secretary, then came in and sat down.

“When was the last time you saw your poster?”

“Yesterday, after school, before I went to the stable.”

“And did it have that picture on it?”

“No.”

“So, this probably just happened this morning.”

“I guess.”

“Which is good. It means maybe no one saw it. It's too early.”

“Yeah.” It made Felicia feel better to know that a crowd of students hadn't gathered to laugh and jeer at her work.

“Has anything else bad happened to you lately?”

Felicia moved the zipper up and down on her vest. “No. I'm fine.”

“I know this is very difficult for you, Felicia, but we can't let an issue like this slip by without dealing with it.”

Felicia stared out the window. This is the end of living here. Mom's going to lose her job, and I won't be able to ride Star anymore.

Mrs. Mackie stood up and pushed back her chair. “Let's go to your classroom. Bring your poster.”

“I don't want anyone to see it now.”

“You're right. Open it up. We'll take off that horrid picture.” The operation was done quickly, like a bandage peeled away from a scrape. “There. It's as good as new.” Mrs. Mackie scrunched the offending picture and tossed it into the garbage. “Let's go.”

Back in the classroom, Miss Peabody's usual smile faded when she saw their facial expressions. “Is something the matter?”

Mrs. Mackie spoke quietly to the teacher. “Felicia's poster has been tampered with. We've removed it from the glass case and she's put it away in her locker.”

“Your lovely poster. How terrible. What shall we do?”

Felicia knew everyone in the class was riveted, trying to hear what the principal and the teacher were saying. “I want to go to my desk.”

“Yes, of course, that's fine.”

The principal and the teacher continued their whispered conversation as Felicia slipped into her seat. She pulled out a workbook and studied its blurred pages. A folded paper was taped to the inside of the back cover. Felicia opened the note and read:

Roses are red

Vilets are blue

No one rides a horse

As klutzy as you

There was a crude drawing of a scarecrow-like figure on a horse. It was signed ‘dodie.' Felicia walked to the recycling bin and tore the note into little pieces.

The morning was a fog of grammar and geography. Just before lunch, Marie presented her family saga. She ended her presentation by passing around a tray of tiny cakes called petits gâteaux, and she described how she had made them the evening before, using her grandmother's recipe.

After class Felicia decided to speak to Dodie, who was getting her lunch out of her locker. “Your note was really pathetic. I was going to correct the spelling and send it back to you, but I decided to rip it up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don't act so innocent after all the mean things you've done.” Renate and Sophie walked up to Dodie, robbing Felicia of some of her confidence. But she persisted, “Especially ruining my poster.”

“I didn't touch your poster or send you a note.”

“Well I got a nasty note this morning, and it was signed ‘Dodie.'”

“I got a note too,” said Sophie, “last week…from you, Felicia.”

“I never sent you a note, Sophie.”

“It was mean, too,” said Sophie.

“It wasn't from me, really it wasn't,” Felicia insisted.

“There was an ugly picture on it of me, too.”

“Do you still have it?”

“No, but Ashley said you must have done it 'cause you're so good at art.”

“Ashley told me you didn't like my poster.”

“What?”

“She said something about you and my poster.”

“I didn't say anything about the poster.” The girls turned their attention to Ashley who was brushing her hair. “Did I, Ashley?”

Ashley gazed at her reflection in the mirror attached to her locker door. “Honestly! Can't anyone take a joke?”

“Jokes are supposed to be funny,” said Felicia.

“I thought it was funny. We all had a good laugh watching you and your fellow geeky losers get so upset, didn't we?” Ashley turned to the group of supporters surrounding her. They all shared the same satisfied smirk.

Felicia said, “I think you're a little confused. You're the loser.”

“Yeah!” added Renate.

“Yeah, you loser!” Sophie's face was flaming red.

Ashley shrugged her shoulders, glanced once more at her mirror, and closed the locker door. Felicia turned and walked away.

CHAPTER 35

Flower

FLOWER WAITED
in the trees
with her mother and Gabriel. Rain came down from every angle, sliding off leaves
and dripping from branches. They shivered with cold and fatigue. Her father was
taking a long time.

Suddenly a dog barked, its sound straining and
whining with excited urgency. Flower looked up at Cleo's stricken face.
“Ma?”

Cleo looked about her, frantic. “Run!”

They started to flee deeper into the forest. As
before, their shoes stuck in the mud. It was an effort to lift each foot. Cleo
stumbled and fell to the ground. Gabriel started to scream.

Flower helped her mother to her feet, gripping her
hand as they stumbled over stones and tree roots, slipping and sliding, making
hardly any progress. “Hurry. Hurry.” Flower's command was whispered, like a
prayer. Now they could hear the voices of men, their words indistinct but
threatening. The sound of barking dogs was getting louder—agitated,
impatient.

Cleo fell again. She looked up at her daughter and
said, “Go on. Run away, while you can.”

Flower stood suspended in time, saw men approaching
them.

“Run! Run!”

She turned and scrambled between trees, up a hill.
She could hear heavy footsteps behind her, a voice panting and cursing. A hand
grabbed at her climbing foot. Flower kicked back and made contact.

“Ow! You little devil.” She could hear him fall
backward down the slope. Flower continued on until she reached the top of the
hill. She hid in a bush, shaking and short of breath. She clasped her knees and
buried her face in her skirt.

The voice moved away. “There's still one more.
Where's the dogs when we need 'em?”

Flower shivered. The dogs would easily find her.
Where could she be safe? Not in a bush. She crept out of her hiding place and
looked down. Peering from behind a large rock, she saw her mother surrounded by
three men. They were grabbing at her and shouting. Flower's decision was
immediate and instinctive. She stumbled and scraped her way back, slid down the
muddy slope, threaded her way through stands of trees and drizzling rain, back
to Cleo. She threw herself against her mother, encircled that thin body with
desperation and love.

The men were jubilant. “We've got her! We've got
the last one.”

Flower was pulled away, her hands roughly tied
behind her back, another rope around her middle, connecting her to Cleo. They
were pushed and prodded, like herded cattle, back along the muddy track. The
people at the farmhouse cheered as Cleo and Flower were brought back. The words
weren't clear, just the roar of triumph.

Flower walked behind Cleo and focused on her bound
hands and on Gabriel, curled within his sling, his face pressed against his
mother's back. When they reached the drive, she saw her father, trussed with
rope, lying on the ground.

Someone kicked him. Flower squeezed her eyes shut,
but she could still hear the sound of boots thudding against Eldon's body, his
groans, her mother's screams for them to stop. One of the men raised a
threatening hand to Cleo but didn't strike her. He gave Eldon another kick.

“Yeah, that'll teach him.”

“Know your place, boy.”

“What'll we do with this lot?”

A woman's voice, “That one with the babe looks
strong enough, the girl too. I could do with some help here.”

“No. Take them to town. Let the sheriff look after
it.”

“Slaves are worth a lot of money. We could collect
something if we return them to their master.”

“Tracking down the owner sounds like a lot of
trouble. Let's have our own sale.”

“Good idea.”

“They still need to be taken to town. Let's get
this one on his feet.” Eldon was pulled up from the ground, another rope lashed
around his middle.

“Where's the wagon?”

“Coming.” A wooden wagon harnessed with one horse
pulled up in front of the house. Eldon, Cleo with Gabriel slung to her back, and
Flower were tied in a row behind it. The driver flicked the whip, and the horse
started forward. Flower fell to the ground with the sudden motion. She could
hear laughter as she struggled awkwardly to her feet.

One voice was sympathetic. “She's just a little
girl.”

“Hah! That one gave me a kick. She needs to learn a
lesson.”

The wagon moved forward again, and the family
stumbled behind it. Flower was pushed to keep up. On the road, the horse started
to trot, and Flower fell again, scraping her face. The horse's gait was kept to
a walk, but after a while, Cleo fell with Gabriel, and then Flower again. The
driver stopped and stepped down from the wagon. He allowed Cleo and the children
to ride, but Eldon was made to follow behind for another hour. Flower couldn't
look at her struggling father. She tried to block out what was happening to him
with prayer, but the words were jumbled in her mind.

They finally arrived at the outskirts of a town,
and the wagon stopped in front of a stone building. The driver went inside and
returned with another man, who looked at the desperate group and asked, “What
have we got here?”

“Runaway slaves, a whole family.”

CHAPTER 36

Felicia

FELICIA WALKED
along the hall after French class, silently memorizing verb endings. Lucy and Cynthia came up behind her, then beside her, forcing her in their direction.

“Excuse me!” Felicia tried to slip away, but they pressed closer against her and quickened their pace.

The girls' washroom was the last door on the left at the end of the hall. Felicia was steered into the tiled space with the two girls flanking her. The only sound was the dripping of a tap. Then Ashley and Melissa jumped out from behind the open door. “Boo!”

Felicia drew her breath in sharply, but managed not to cry out. She was surprised to see Melissa. She had always found her to be quietly pleasant.

“Party time,” said Cynthia. Felicia could smell bubble gum on her breath.

“You mean makeover time.”

“And here's our little guinea pig.”

Felicia didn't move, eased out a breath. Her pulse pounded in her head. She started an inward count to ten. They mustn't see her fear. One…two…

“She needs a new look.”

“Her hair's so ugly.”

They sauntered in a circle around her. Three…four…

Cynthia and Ashley shared a mean smile. “We have ways,” Ashley lifted a pair of scissors from her pocket and clicked the blades together, “to make changes.”

“For the better.”

Ashley advanced and waved the scissors back and forth above Felicia's head. “Now let me see.”

“Don't! Don't touch me!”

“Maybe this one.” Ashley tugged at a braid.

“A good one,” agreed Cynthia, “right at the front.”

“Stop it!” Felicia backed into Lucy, who pushed her forward.

The squeak of rubber-soled sneakers on tile stopped the action. Ashley raised one eyebrow and angled her head toward the doorway. The girls filed out, leaving Felicia breathless in the washroom. She turned to the sink and washed her shaking hands as Sally entered a stall.

Instinctively, Felicia sought out the most public place in the school, the auditorium, where the play was being rehearsed. She sank into a seat amid a group of other students. Mr. Butler stood on the stage, surrounded by cast members.

“We're on page twelve. Matthew is playing the Reverend. It's the Thanksgiving scene. Everyone? It's page twelve.”

Felicia practiced her deep breathing and focused on Matthew's reading. After the run-through, they left the auditorium together. She said to him, “Hey Matt, you were good.”

“You're blinded by my acting skill.”

“I guess so.”

Felicia said good-bye and set out for the stable. She heard footsteps behind her, then Dodie's voice. “Felicia, wait up.”

Felicia turned to face them. Dodie was grim-faced, determined. She and Renate exchanged glances; and then Dodie said, “We decided we should talk.”

“Okay.”

Sophie stepped forward, her freckles vivid against her pale face. “I thought you'd done something mean to me, and I was wrong.”

Felicia almost replied that's okay, but stopped and considered what she really wanted to say. “You were all so mean to me.”

“I know,” said Sophie, “and it's my fault.”

“No it's not. It's all our faults,” said Renate.

“Why didn't you talk to me?” asked Felicia. “If only you'd asked me, I could have told you…”

“I was too embarrassed. The picture was so horrible.”

“So was mine.” Felicia was reminded of her own reaction to the defacement of her work—how she wanted to hide it from everyone, as if it were a terrible secret that no one should know about. “So, are you still mad at me?”

“No. We feel bad,” answered Renate.

They started to walk together. Felicia found she had many unsaid things roaring around in her head. A spasm of lingering anger made her twitch. “It was so hard when you wouldn't speak to me.”

“I know,” said Renate.

“No, you don't.”

“Yeah, I do. One time last year, Sophie and Dodie got mad at me. I was so upset. I didn't know what to do.”

“I'm sorry, again. I feel so guilty,” said Sophie. She started to cry.

“Come on, Soph, don't be such a suck,” said Dodie.

Renate put an arm around Sophie's shoulder. “You're too sensitive.”

“It was different for me,” said Felicia. “You treated me different, because I am different.”

“No we didn't.”

“It sure felt like it. It felt like the way Ashley and her group treat me. Like I don't belong.”

“We're not racist, you know!”

“Yeah. We're not like that.”

“Honest?”

“Honest.”

“This is what I think,” said Dodie. She stopped walking as she spoke, and the other three stopped with her. “I think we all know what it's like when your friends are mad at you and won't speak to you, right?”

“So?”

“So, I think we should promise each other that if something like this happens again, we get together and say what's wrong.”

“Then the person might be more upset. It could get worse.”

“Maybe,” said Felicia. “But it would be better than nobody talking.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Let's go.”

Francine greeted them as they trotted up the drive to the barn. “Looks like there's lots of energy here—good.”

“Why good?” asked Renate, breathless.

“Because I want to try some real synchronized riding today, and I was hoping you'd be up for it.”

“All right!”

The exercises were complicated. The girls practiced one at a time, then with two riders, and finally with all four of them, circling in each corner of the arena, crossing at the center and then back to the corners, and then riding in twos up each long side. Their past antagonism was forgotten in the shared rhythm of the exercise. After the lesson, Fran smiled up at Felicia. “Did that feel good?”

“Yes. Star is so great. She knows just when to turn.”

“Give yourself some credit. She knows when to turn because you are telling her with your riding.”

Felicia stroked the long neck, leaned forward, and whispered into one whiskered ear, “You are the best.”

The students hopped off onto the sawdust, loosened the girth straps, and ran up the stirrups. Their horses were toweled and each given a carrot, except for Cecil, who preferred peppermints.

Felicia and Sophie went into the tack room together to return the saddles and hang up the bridles. As she unbuckled straps, Sophie said, “Felicia…”

“Yeah?”

“I'm so glad it wasn't you who made that awful picture of me.”

“What was the picture?”

“It was supposed to be me, but it was that ugly clown puppet with red hair and freckles. The one that murders everybody.”

“No!”

“What was yours?”

Now it was Felicia's turn to relive the humiliation. “It was a monkey wearing a pink dress.”

“That Ashley is so…”

“Is so what?” Ashley and Cynthia swept into the tack room. Ashley lifted a saddle off its post and stood glaring at Felicia and Sophie. Cynthia looked at the floor.

Felicia found her voice. “Is so immature.”