Broken Flower (Early Spring 1)

She reached out toward me. I looked at Ian. He shook his head and returned to whatever he was studying. I wanted to stay with him, but I was really afraid of what she might tell Grandmother Emma and what Grandmother Emma might do to both of us, so I took her hand. She clasped mine with surprising firmness, practically crushing my fingers.

"I am not accustomed to having to raise my voice like that," she muttered as she tugged me toward the front door. I looked back at Ian. He was staring at us and even from this distance. I could see his eyes were narrow and fall of darts.

As soon as we entered. she ordered me to my room. "Go on. I have something to tell the maid and then I'll be there," she said.

All I could think of was Mama. I prayed for her to wake up and come home. Head down, I walked up the stairway and into my bedroom. I was surprised to see my bed was not made and the clothes I had worn the day before were not hung up or taken to be washed. The towel I had used in the bathroom was where I had left it crumpled up, too.

"Good," I heard, and turned to see Miss Harper march into my room. "I was afraid she might have forgotten her new orders. We'll begin with

straightening and cleaning your room. From now on, this will be your first chore of the day,"

"But Nancy always does that," I said.

"Nancy will not be doing it either for you or for Ian anymore. It is only when we take care of our own things that we learn the value of them," she said.

"But what will Nancy do?"

"That is not your concern, Jordan. Honestly, I have never met a child your age who is so

cantankerous."

"What's that mean?"

She raised her eves to the ceiling and then slammed her hand, palm open, against the wall. The action was so unexpected and so hard. I winced with sympathetic pain. It had to hurt, but she didn't act like it did.

"Question after question after question. Vocabulary lessons will take place later," she said, suddenly very calmly and sweetly. "Now, have you ever made your own bed?"

"I did it with Mama at the cabin," I said.

"How fortunate, Let me see you do it now," she said, and folded her arms under her small bosom as she stepped back to watch.

I began slowly. The bed in the cabin wasn't as big as this one, Daddy's old bed, but I began as I remembered Mama had taught me. Miss Harper watched and didn't step forward to help when I struggled with the blanket. When I was finished, she stepped up to the bed and tore it apart again.

"Too messy," she said. "You don't leave the top sheet that wrinkled and you don't leave your pillows looking as if you were just lying on them. Do it again."

"It's the way Nancy makes it," I said. "I doubt that. Do it again. Do it!"

I did it again, and again, she was dissatisfied. This time I hadn't tucked in the sheets neatly enough.

"Why does it have to be so perfect?" I asked, which was another mistake.

"Sit," she told me, pointing to my desk chair. I did. She stood in front of my desk as if we were really back in her classroom. "Why is it important to do things as perfectly as we can? Who knows the answer?" she asked.

I know my mouth fell open a little. Who knows the answer? Who else was in the room? Ian wasn't here.

"Well?" She glared down at me. "Why?"

"So they'll look nice," I said.

"Before you speak in my classroom, raise your hand and be recognized," she said.

"This isn't a classroom. It's my father's old bedroom."

"Wherever I am, that is a classroom!" she said, with her hands on my desk and her face close to mine. "Go on. Raise your hand."

I felt very silly doing it, but I did.

"Jordan. Yes? Tell us why it's important to do things as perfectly as possible."