“I can just imagine what sort of things to read that was,” she said.
“No, you can’t,” I replied sharply. She raised her eyebrows. “Unless you’ve been there,” I added. “Not everyone was a bum. There were college graduates and people who had good jobs once. Someone gave me a copy of Huckleberry Finn, and someone else gave me a copy of A Tale of Two Cities.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I have no reason to lie about it. Not all street people are thieves and liars. Many try to keep themselves clean and have clean clothes, too.”
I felt the heat in my face. I had never spoken to any of my teachers like that, but in my mind, any criticism of the street people was criticism of Mama, and I wouldn’t permit it.
For a moment, I thought she was going to shove her paperwork back into her briefcase, shut it, and walk out, but she surprised me by finally smiling. “Well, you’re not easily intimidated. Do you know what intimidated means?”
“Yes. Pushed around, made to give up or give in to someone or something,” I recited.
“Okay, then. Maybe I’ll be happily surprised. Let’s get started.”
She began explaining the tests she wanted me to take. We worked for hours. When Mrs. Duval stopped by to see if she wanted anything to drink, she had barely opened her mouth before Mrs. Kepler snapped, “Nothing, not now.” She wouldn’t tolerate the slightest interruption. I thought she would even make me work through lunch, but she agreed to stop so we could eat.
Mrs. Duval came up with the cart. Mrs. Caro had prepared chicken salad for us. I was afraid there would be a duplication of yesterday’s mammoth lunch, but apparently the order had been put in earlier. We cleared the table, and Mrs. Duval served from the cart. It was when we began to eat our lunch that Mrs. Kepler stopped being the school-teacher and spoke with warmth and concern. She wanted to know where I had lived and gone to school. I didn’t know how much Mrs. March had told her about me and why I was there, but from the questions she asked and the way she spoke about Mrs. March, I was convinced that nothing had been said about Kiera.
“I’m sure this is all overwhelming for you,” she said. Then she smiled and added, “It certainly is for me. I heard about this house, but until now, I had never set foot in it. I bet you feel a bit like Cinderella.”
“Except there’s no prince,” I told her, and she laughed.
“No, I imagine not. There’s not even a pumpkin.”
Now we both laughed, and I finally relaxed. I hadn’t thought I would, but I liked her. Even after lunch, she was different, warmer and more complimentary.
Mrs. March tiptoed into the room at about three o’clock. We were just finishing, and Mrs. Kepler was putting papers back into her briefcase.
“How is it going?” Mrs. March asked. Mrs. Kepler sat back and was silent for a long moment. I could see that Mrs. March was expecting bad news.
“I’m afraid I’m not going to earn very much money here, Mrs. March.”
“Oh. Why not?”
“She’s not as far behind as one would expect. Her reading skills are better than those of most of the students going into the ninth grade, I’m sure. She certainly has a very good vocabulary, and she picked up very quickly on the math, too. There are some weak areas with history and science, but most of that she’s going to strengthen with her own reading.”
“That’s wonderful,” Mrs. March said.
Mrs. Kepler rose. “I’ll prepare the work assignments to help her catch up quickly. I’ll start her off tomorrow and then stop by every other day for a few hours at most. I hope she’ll get out a bit, get some fresh air and sun.”
“Oh, yes. For sure. Mrs. Caro will be taking her out after lunch in the afternoons. You certainly can work on one of our patios, if you like.”
“We’d like,” Mrs. Kepler said, winking at me. “I’ll be by tomorrow, then, same time. I’ll bring the books.”
“Wonderful,” Mrs. March said. “Are you happy, Sasha?”
“Yes,” I said, even though I thought she meant about everything and not only Mrs. Kepler’s tutoring.
“I’ll see you out,” she told Mrs. Kepler.
“’Bye, then,” Mrs. Kepler told me, and followed Mrs. March out of the suite. I heard Mrs. March’s melodic laughter echo down the hallway.
Part of me didn’t want her to feel better. Part of me wished she’d be suffering as much as I was, even though it wasn’t literally she who had hit Mama and me. Just as Mama had once been responsible for everything I did, Mrs. March and her husba
nd were responsible for everything Kiera did. Maybe her husband was more responsible, if I believed what she had told me, but still, it felt strange making anyone happy in that house. In that house, the cause of Mama’s death resided.
From that house, Kiera March had emerged carefree and reckless, arrogant and self-centered. She had taken her drugs and, like some asteroid, come flying out of space to smash two people who had never done her any harm. Also like that asteroid, she was indifferent and unrepentant. Look at how she was at the pool, I thought. She laughed and frolicked right beneath me.