“You’re too shy,” she said. “I overheard Mother say that to Daddy. And that’s the real reason we’re not going yet, so it’s your fault.”
“Now who’s lying? Mother would never say that.”
She gave me that Haylee Blossom Fitzgerald shrug, widening her eyes. She would do that only when Mother wasn’t looking. It was something she did instead of laughing at me when she was teasing me, especially when she was caught in a “lie without clothes,” as Mother put it.
“Yes, she did, Kaylee.”
“No, she didn’t. I’m the one who talks about going all the time. You’re the shy one, the one who’s afraid to ask Mother questions,” I fired back at her.
It was true, and she knew it. As always, when she knew she’d been caught lying to me, she would just smile and go on to something else, leaving my frustration dangling in the air like a spider. My insides certainly felt as if spiders were crawling all over me. I hated letting her do this to me, but I was also frustrated about school.
The Betsy Ross private school was not far from where we lived. Every time we drove past it, Haylee and I would gaze at the redbrick building and the children outside with great curiosity and longing. They seemed so much happier than we were, so much more excited about everything as they called to one another and walked and ran over the beautiful grounds with the tall maple and oak trees. Sometimes we saw children on the ball field. If we had to stop at the traffic light in front of the school, their laughter rolled toward us in waves and drew us to lean a little out of the car windows, as if we were begging for a little of their social activity.
I often asked when we were going to attend Betsy Ross, and Mother would always say, “You’ll go when you’re ready.”
“But why are they ready and we’re not?” I had asked recently. “So many of them are younger than we are.”
“Are you wondering that, too?” Mother asked Haylee.
&
nbsp; “No,” she said, shaking her head, even though she was wondering even more than I was.
“I don’t know why I have to repeat this. I’ve told you so many times,” Mother said, looking more at me, “that you are special and very different from those children. When you are there eventually, you will see exactly what I mean, and you will thank me for making you stronger before you entered the school of . . . plain fish.”
I looked at Haylee. She was smiling. She loved it when Mother spoke to me as if I were dumber than she was. Nevertheless, my mind was full of challenging questions, like Why are they plain fish? And if they’re so plain, why are they in school and we’re not? We’re smart enough to attend classes and do well, right? You’ve said so many times.
Of course, I dared not ask those questions. I was quiet instead, and I would close my eyes and roll up the car window whenever we were driving past the Betsy Ross school now. I didn’t want to see or hear how happy the “plain fish” were. I felt like a poor, starving little girl who could only stare through restaurant windows at the wonderful and delicious things other children were eating. It was torture to look. However, because of what I had overheard Mother tell Daddy, I was far more interested in going to school now, and despite how she pretended otherwise, so was Haylee.
One day two weeks later, Mother finally told us. Daddy was home, and we had just sat down to have dinner. She said she had visited the grade school and had spoken with the principal, Mrs. Green.
“Since they are beginning a new marking period at Betsy Ross and you’ve both been doing so well in our home classroom, I’ve decided it is time to enroll you.”
I looked at Haylee to see if she would feel sorry for doubting me, but she didn’t show it if she did. Instead, she looked as surprised as she could and avoided looking at me.
“Betsy Ross is the best of all the private schools in our area,” Mother continued. “However, I’ve insisted on a number of things. You will be in the same classroom, of course, and sitting side by side. If your teacher finds one of you falling behind the other for any reason, I will be informed immediately so that I can help bring you up to your full capabilities.
“I’ve decided,” she added, before either Daddy or we could say anything, “to volunteer as a teacher’s assistant. I will not assist your teacher, however. The principal has a rule against that, a rule I couldn’t bend. I almost threatened not to enroll you, but then I realized that I wouldn’t be that far from the situation anyway. I’ll assist the second-grade teacher. This way, I will personally bring you to school and take you home every day, and if there is any sort of problem, which I don’t anticipate, I will be there to jump right on it.”
“What’s that? Teacher’s assistant?” Daddy said. “Why would you devote your new free time to that, Keri? You could return to your law studies or—”
“It’s too late for that, Mason. Besides, I’ve lost interest in it. There are many other women with children at the school volunteering for things and even fathers who help with the high school sports program.”
“I know, but—”
“This is how it will be for at least the first year or so while they are in grade school, Mason,” she said firmly. Mother could declare something and end her sentence with the sound of a judge’s gavel. It was as good as saying “Case closed,” which was something she did say from time to time.
“Well, if that’s what you want . . .” Daddy conceded, happy that at least she had finally given in and arranged for us to attend the school.
“Of course it’s what I want. I’m not going to start needlework or join some ladies’ book club,” she said. For a moment, her eyes blazed, and then she softened her whole body and smiled at us. “We’ll go shopping this weekend for some new clothes for you and some things you’ll need for school. I have the books that you’ll be using in the third grade, and we’ll work from them now, although they look a little simplistic for you. Well? What do you have to say?”
“Thank you, Mother,” we both replied, with that amazing synchronicity she always pointed out to Daddy and anyone else who heard us.
She smiled. “My girls,” she said. “My girls will be outstanding. Haylee-Kaylee.”
“Kaylee-Haylee,” we both said, and she laughed. Daddy widened his eyes and shook his head.
Mother held out her arms, and we got up and went to her for a hug. I looked at Daddy. I expected that he would be very happy for us, too. We were finally going to attend a regular school, as he wanted, but when Mother hugged us, he looked very troubled for a moment. It sent a chill through me. Why did he look so afraid for us? He lost the expression quickly when we returned to our seats and finished our dinner as Mother lectured us about how we were to conduct ourselves at school.