Читать книгу She Was the Quiet One - Michele Campbell - Страница 18

9

“He just got glasses yesterday, poor thing, and doesn’t quite know what to make of them,” Mrs. Donovan said. Rose sat at the Donovans’ kitchen table, holding little Scottie in her lap. The air was fragrant with the scent of the chocolate-chip cookies fresh from the oven. The child fidgeted with the bright-green eyeglasses attached to his head with a strap, so Rose held him away from her and made funny faces to distract him. He watched her solemnly, his eyes behind the lenses wide as saucers.

“You’re so good with him,” Mrs. Donovan said. “Do you babysit?”

“I’d babysit for this guy anytime. He’s the sweetest,” Rose said, lowering her nose and drinking in the scent of the child’s flaxen hair.

Mrs. Donovan laughed. “I’ll take you up on that. He is a sweetie. He was a preemie, you know. He doesn’t talk much yet. He’s a little delayed. Watch out, though. His sister is a holy terror, and it’s a package deal.”

“She seems so fun. Is she here?”

“Harper is fun. She’s a handful, though. She’s in her room playing Goat Simulator on the laptop, so we can have some peace and quiet.”

“Playing what?”

“Goat Simulator. It’s this video game where the kid pretends to be a goat running wild in a town. It’s actually a pretty good metaphor for Harper’s life, come to think of it. Anyway, she’s obsessed with it.”

Mrs. Donovan placed a plate of cookies on the table in front of Rose. Max lounged at Rose’s feet, his tail thumping back and forth with the rhythm of a metronome. This afternoon tête-à-tête was like a dream come true. To be invited into a teacher’s home, and to have it be so cozy and adorable. The kitchen had an old-fashioned gas stove, a tile backsplash and pretty curtains. Mrs. Donovan had the nicest smile, and was so easy to talk to. In Rose’s old school, the teachers barely knew her name. Rose couldn’t believe her luck in getting Mrs. Donovan as her advisor.

“Tea?” Mrs. Donovan asked.

“I’d love to, but I’m holding the baby,” Rose said.

“Oh, I’ll take him, so you can enjoy your refreshments.”

Mrs. Donovan brought mugs of tea over to the table. Why did people say she wasn’t good-looking? She might not be flashy or blingy, but she had a fresh, wholesome prettiness—like a mother should. Rose’s mother had been glamorous, yet Rose had never felt comfortable with her eccentric, arty style. Done up in thrift-shop finds, with a big tattoo of angel wings on her arm for their dad. She cooked up pots of organic quinoa for dinner, but never baked cookies. Rose had secretly wished for a normal mom, someone more like Mrs. Donovan. She felt guilty thinking that, yet, if Rose was honest, here in this delightful kitchen with Mrs. Donovan, she didn’t miss her mother much at all.

Scottie went to Mrs. Donovan happily. Rose took a bite of a cookie. It was warm and gooey inside. Bliss.

“These are divine. Thank you so much for baking for me. You didn’t have to!” Rose exclaimed.

“Oh, it was no trouble. Harper helped. She loves baking—today, anyway. Five minutes from now, she’ll be on to something else.”

“It must be so special for them, growing up at Odell,” Rose said.

“People think that,” Mrs. Donovan replied, frowning. “But being a faculty kid makes for a strange childhood. We eat most of our meals in the dining hall, with a million people all around. Scottie gets overwhelmed by the excitement, and Harper eats it up. Literally. Yesterday I found three brownies in her pockets. Students sneak her extra dessert.”

Rose laughed. “That’s adorable.”

“Not when she’s bouncing off the walls at bedtime from all the sugar. Besides, it’s a control thing. How can I teach her no when there are so many teenagers around who say yes?”

“Yes, but—it’s so wonderful here, with beautiful grounds to play in. I grew up in an apartment complex in the city. Everything was concrete. We couldn’t have pets. To me, Odell feels like paradise.”

“You’re not alone in thinking that. Some people see the campus, and it’s love at first sight. My husband was like that. He lived and breathed Odell when we were students, and that’s still true. Even if he wasn’t sure about being a teacher, he knew he wanted to be here,” Mrs. Donovan said, and laughed sheepishly.

“He doesn’t like being a teacher?”

“Oh, I, uh, didn’t mean it that way,” Mrs. Donovan said, coloring slightly, as if she’d said too much. “Heath loves his work. Especially now that we’re dorm heads, and truly immersed in the community. He finds it very fulfilling.”

There was a false note in Mrs. Donovan’s voice that made Rose wonder how she herself felt about Odell.

“And you? Do you like your work?” Rose asked.

“Thank you for asking. I love teaching math. But I’m a bit of an introvert, so the dorm head job, living here on campus, doesn’t come as naturally to me as it does my husband. But I think it’s important work, so it’s satisfying in that sense. Historically, Moreland has had challenges. I had run-ins with girls from this dorm when I was a student here. It just seems to attract the mean girls.”

“There are mean girls here now,” Rose said.

“I realize that. And I want to be part of fixing the culture. Heath and I are trying to foster a healthy atmosphere in Moreland. But it’s tricky. We have to identify the girls causing the trouble, hopefully before they do anything too disruptive, and get them to change their ways, if possible.”

Rose wondered if Mrs. Donovan had heard the gossip. There was a rumor going around that the Moreland seniors—the same girls Bel hung out with—were engaged in a competition to seduce Mr. Donovan. Rose was so outraged when she heard that that she wanted to hit somebody. If it was true, they ought to be expelled. She had half a mind to tell Mrs. Donovan about it right now, and put a stop to it. But how awkward was that—telling Mrs. Donovan other girls wanted to sleep with her husband? It was too embarrassing, and would spoil their cozy tea date.

“Enough about me,” Mrs. Donovan said. “How are you doing, Rose? You’ve been through so much with your mom’s passing. Odell can be a tough transition in the best of times. Are you settling in all right?”

“Yes. I love it here. I couldn’t be happier.”

Mrs. Donovan looked at her skeptically. “I’m very glad to hear that, but you don’t have to say it if it isn’t true. I know you’re off to a great start academically. You’re doing excellent work in math class. I’ve also heard from some of your other teachers that you’re a confident speaker at the Harkness Table, which is a big indicator of success at Odell.”

Her teachers said good things about her. Rose nodded, arranging her features so she wouldn’t look too pleased with herself.

“I adore my classes, Mrs. Donovan. I feel so engaged, like I’m really learning.”

“What about outside of class? Are you feeling comfortable socially?” Mrs. Donovan asked.

“I’m doing so much fun stuff,” Rose said cheerily, grabbing her backpack, and pulling out her notebook. “Here’s my list so far. Auditioning for the fall play. I joined the debate team. I’m working on the literary magazine. Joined Model UN and French Club. Oh, and I might audition for the chorus. I’ve never sung in front of people except for karaoke, but I was pretty good at that.”

Mrs. Donovan looked at her in astonishment. “Rose, that’s a wonderful list. I’m very impressed. But you have be careful not to take on too much.”

Rose felt it should be obvious that she could handle anything she took on. Was Mrs. Donovan selling her short because of her background? Odell was a clubby place, and though Rose’s father’s family were old Odellians, and Grandma had money, Rose and Bel had been raised by a single mom in modest circumstances. Compared to her classmates, with their summers filled with golf and tennis, their vacations abroad and tutors for every subject, Rose had grown up underprivileged. But she intended to keep up with the Joneses in every way, and she didn’t want Mrs. Donovan doubting her.

“Don’t worry, I’m very organized. When my mother was sick, I bought the groceries, I did the laundry and the cooking. I dealt with the doctors. I even paid the bills, with help from my grandmother. And I still got straight A’s, although admittedly, my old school was easy compared to Odell.”

Mrs. Donovan’s face softened with sympathy. “You poor thing. To be burdened like that, at your age. No wonder you’re trying to be superwoman. We have excellent therapists in the health center. You should talk to someone.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“It can help you process your grief over losing your mom.”

“I try not to dwell on things that make me sad. I put them out of my mind, and go on the best I can.”

“Everybody needs to talk things out, Rose. That reminds me. I’ve been meaning to ask about your sister.”

“My sister?”

“Yes. Is everything all right between you and Bel?”

“Everything’s fine. Why?” Rose asked, alarmed.

“I heard through the grapevine that the two of you had a falling-out.”

Damnit! Kids had been gossiping about that incident in the dining hall, and it must’ve gotten back to Mrs. Donovan. Rose had been livid about the whole incident, to the point that she hadn’t spoken to Bel since, despite Bel’s multiple attempts to apologize. This whole mess was Bel’s fault, and Mrs. Donovan needed to know that.

“There was an incident in the dining hall the first day of classes,” Rose began.

“Go on.”

“Bel . . . Well, she can be immature, and she doesn’t always have the best judgment. We were talking a minute ago about mean girls in Moreland. I’m afraid Bel’s fallen in with that crowd. Darcy Madden, and her friend Tessa, that redheaded girl. She was sitting with them at lunch, and I tried to get her to move tables. I’m worried they’ll get her into trouble.”

Mrs. Donovan looked at Rose with concern in her eyes.

“I can’t comment specifically on other students’ disciplinary history. But you’re right about that group being a problem. So that caused trouble between the two of you.”

“We haven’t spoken since,” Rose said, conveniently omitting the fact that she was the one refusing to speak to Bel, not the other way around.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mrs. Donovan said.

“Is there anything you can do?” Rose asked.

“Do?”

“To get Bel to stop hanging out with them.”

“Well. I suppose I could ask Heath to mention it to her. He’s her advisor.”

“That would be great. I’ll be honest, if Bel gets in trouble, I’m afraid it’ll reflect badly on me.”

“Rose, you keep mentioning Bel getting in trouble. Is she doing something she shouldn’t? Something specific, not just socializing with the wrong crowd. If you’re aware that other students are breaking the rules, you’re supposed to report them. Even if it’s your sister. The Honor Code requires it. Do you understand?”

Rose thought again about the contest to seduce Mr. Donovan. Bel’s new best friend was behind it. She hoped that didn’t mean her sister was involved with it. But she didn’t have proof, and she was afraid to say anything. Not only would it be terribly awkward to bring this up with Mrs. Donovan, but Rose could wind up with a reputation as a rat. That was social suicide at Odell.

“I haven’t heard anything specific,” Rose insisted. “Nobody tells me anything because I’m known as a girl who follows the rules. I just worry about my sister.”

“I understand. I’ll ask Heath to speak to her about the company she keeps. But there’s something I need to ask of you in return.”

“Okay.”

“Make up with Bel. Talk through your differences. You two are both new here. You’ve been through a lot. You need each other. Can you do that, Rose? Please? For me?”

Rose hesitated. She was hurt and pissed off enough that she really didn’t feel like making up with her sister. Not yet. Still, she couldn’t refuse Mrs. Donovan’s request, when Mrs. Donovan represented everything that was good and kind in the world.

“I’ll try,” she said, taking another cookie. “Promise.”