Butterfly (Orphans 1)

The next morning after breakfast, Sanford took me to the Peabody School, a private school. The principal was a woman named Mrs. Williams. She was tall but not too thin, with light brown hair neatly styled. I thought she had a very warm, friendly smile, and was nothing like the principal in my former school, Mr. Saks, who seemed always to be grouchy and unhappy, and who was always anxious to punish students for violating one rule or another. Often he perched in the corridors like a hawk watching and waiting. He was always charging in and out of the bathrooms, hoping to catch someone smoking.

Peabody was a much smaller school, and also much cleaner and newer. I was surprised when I was brought to a classroom where there were only eight other students, three boys and five girls. For my grade there was one teacher, Miss London, who taught English and history, and another teacher, Mr. Wiles, who taught math and science. Our physical education teacher, Mrs. Grant, also taught health education. I discovered there were only 257 students in the whole school.

"The classes are so small you know you're going to get special attention here," Sanford told me. He was right. All of my teachers were very nice and took the time to explain what I had to do in order to catch up with my classmates.

What I liked most of all was that I was enrolled and introduced to the other students as Janet Delorice, and no one was told that I had been adopted and had been an orphan before this. Everyone simply assumed I was transferring from another private school, and I did nothing to cause them to think otherwise.

I thought most of the girls were snobby as well as most of the boys, but one boy, Josh Brown, who wasn't all that much taller or bigger than me, gave me the warmest smile and greeting when I sat next to him in my first class. Afterward, he walked with me and told me about the school and the teachers. The color of his hair was so similar to mine, we could have been brother and sister. He didn't look like me, however. He had dark brown eyes and a round face with firmer lips and a nose that tipped up at the end. When he smiled, I thought he was cute, although I didn't dare say so.

"Did your parents just move here?" he asked me between classes.

"No. My father owns a glass factory," I told him as I thought of ways to avoid telling him I had come from an orphanage.

He thought a moment and nodded.

"Yeah, I know where it is." He seemed satisfied with my answer and I was happy to let the conversation drop.

Later in the day, the girls asked more questions, and I could see that one girl, Jackie Clark, was suspicious.

"You didn't attend a private school before, did you?" she pursued.

"No," I admitted hesitantly. I was really going to have to get better at creating a story for myself.

"Were you a problem child?" Betty Lowe asked quickly.

"No," I said

"You didn't get into big trouble?" Jackie followed. I shook my head.

"How are your grades, pretty bad?" Betty asked with a nod and a smile as if she hoped they were. "No. I have good grades," I told her.

They looked at each other, confused and skeptical. "Why weren't you in a private school before, then?" Jackie demanded.

I shrugged.

"My parents just decided," I said vaguely.

"I'd rather be in a public school," Betty admitted.

"Not me," Jackie responded, and they got into their own argument and forgot about me for the moment. That was when Josh offered to show me around some more and we left the others. I enjoyed my first day at my new school so much, maybe because of Josh, that I nearly forgot Madame Malisorf would be waiting for me when I got home.

At the end of the school day Sanford was waiting in front of the school to bring me home.

"There may be times when I'll have to have one of my employees pick you up, Janet. Whoever it is will be very nice," he assured me. "Oh, and you don't have to tell Celine, she never understands why sometimes work needs to come first. I enjoy taking a break to come get you, but I just won't be able to do it every day. Don't worry, Celine won't find out, it'll be our little secret."

I tried not to worry about there being yet another secret between us, another secret kept from Celine, and concentrated on the drive. There was some roadwork being done between our home and the school, and we got stick in a traffic jam about a mile from the school. I didn't think it was so terrible, but Sanford was getting very nervous. He kept muttering, "Damn, damn," under his breath, and chastising himself for not taking a detour. Finally, we were sailing along again. He drove a lot faster and I couldn't help thinking about the terrible car accident he and Celine had been in. The wheels squealed as we turned up the drive and came to an abrupt stop in front of the house.

I carried my new books in my arms and hurried to the front door with him. Celine was waiting in the entryway, sitting in her wheelchair and scowling at us as if she had been waiting at the door for hours.

"Why are you so late?" she demanded as soon as we entered the house.

"Roadwork," Sanford began to explain. "It--"

"I don't have time for your excuses, Sanford. Just go on back to your precious factory." She spat the words through clenched teeth and then turned her angry face to me. "Janet, Madame Malisorf is waiting in the studio. Put your books down --come along."

I placed my books on the entryway table, gazed at Sanford with wide, frightened eyes, and then started after Celine. My heart was pounding as I entered the studio. The first thing that astounded me was how small Madame Malisorf was. From the way Celine had described her, I pictured a towering figure at least as impressive as Mrs. McGuire. Madame Malisorf looked to be no more than five feet tall. Her hair was all gray and her face was full of wrinkles, but she had such a trim, athletic body, she looked like a young person who had prematurely aged. Her eyes washed over me as I followed Celine across the floor.

Madame Malisorf wore her hair pinned up in a huge twist. She wore black leotards and pointe shoes like the ones Celine had bought for me. Her lips were scarlet and her eyes were charcoal smudges in her pale, pale face.