Morning Star (3 page)

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Authors: Judith Plaxton

BOOK: Morning Star
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CHAPTER 6

Felicia

FELICIA FOLLOWED
the other students down the hallway, hoped they were heading for a cafeteria. Her upset stomach was gone, and now she was hungry. They formed groups and headed in different directions, most of them outdoors. Felicia tried to walk as if she had a destination. The gym and the library were easily found, but where was the cafeteria? If she were back in Toronto, in that comfortable stew of colors and accents, she would be having lunch with Lenore and Rosalee, surrounded by kids she knew, some of them with “fuzzy” hair like hers. Here she felt like a visiting stranger. The whisperers at the back of the classroom had demolished the little confidence she had with their nasty comments about her hair. She overheard someone in the hallway talking about a lunch pit and followed him outside.

She stepped through the doors, and the early September heat hit her like a blast from a furnace. The boy walked toward a central area where many students were congregating—that must be the lunch pit. Felicia swept by that group as if she had someone to meet, someone waiting for her. She considered leaving for home but wasn't sure of the way. There was a white truck with an ice-cream-cone logo on its side parked on the street. Food! Felicia checked her wallet. She had just enough for a hot dog and an ice cream bar.

Felicia purchased her lunch, found leafy shelter beneath a large maple tree, and sank to the grass. She bolted the wiener and bun, then savored the blend of chocolate and ice cream as it melted on her tongue.

The schoolyard was alive with play. There were at least three pickup basketball games, the balls lazily looping through the air, and voices laughing, shouting, calling to each other. Felicia felt alone again, longed to join in, but felt stiff with shyness and encumbered by her mountain of clothing. She wiped the perspiration from her forehead with her sleeve and stayed on the sidelines. It was terrible to sit alone. If only they had stayed in the city, where she had friends. Now we have to live in geeky old Plainsville. There had been no discussion about moving. Felicia had not been asked what she would like.

“Hey, Felicity!”

She turned and saw Dodie. “It's Felicia.”

“Sorry. Aren't you boiling?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Dodie dropped to her knees on the ground, followed by two other girls. “At least you're in the shade.”

Dodie introduced Felicia to Renate, who had curly hair and dancing dark eyes, and Sophie, who was red-haired and freckled. “We started to play tetherball, but it was too hot.”

“I guess,” said Felicia.

“And we have gym after lunch.”

“You're kidding!” Felicia wondered how she would manage with her winter wardrobe in the gym. “Outside?”

“Could be. Or, we could complain about the heat, and Miss Peabody might let us play volleyball inside.”

“I like volleyball,” said Felicia.

“Are you good at sports?” asked Sophie.

“Some. It depends.”

“Sophie is an excellent tennis player,” said Dodie. “And we all like to ride.”

“Bikes?” asked Felicia.

“No, horses!”

She tried to imagine Dodie, Renate, and Sophie riding.

The buzzer rang. The girls stood and brushed grass from their clothing.

“Three more hours!”

“Sophie, please,” said Renate, “It's only our first day.”

“Sometimes the first time is the worst time. I wish I was at the stable.”

“At least we have gym!”

The girls entered the school. The air conditioning provided some relief, but not enough for Felicia, who imagined steam rising from her body.

“Felicia, you're so hot!” said Dodie. “Take some of your stuff off.”

“What will I do with it? I don't have a locker yet.”

“Take off what's extra,” said Renate, “and we'll each wear something.” She reached for Felicia's sweater and slid her arm into a sleeve. “This is cool. Where did you get it?”

“In Toronto.” Felicia handed her vest to Dodie and the scarf to Sophie. She was left with her T-shirt. “Thanks!”

“No problemo!”

“It's like we're in a fashion show.” Renate led the way as they marched together back into the classroom.

CHAPTER 7

Flower

FLOWER BIT
down hard on a
wet finger.

“Ow! That hurt! Why'd you have to go and do
that?”

“You put your hand…over my face!”

“Quiet! To keep you quiet, that's all.” He shook
his hand in the air and gave it a pained look. “Teeth marks!” Flower started to
edge away. He pushed her to the ground. “Where do you think you're going?” She
scrambled to her knees and tried to get up. “Stay there.” She sank back down to
the earth and buried her face in her hands. “What's your name? Where you from?
Answer me!”

Flower raised her head and then lowered it. His
face was too horrid to look at. “I don't know.”

“What do you mean, you don't know? Everybody knows
their name.”

“My Pa is going to whup you.” Flower hoped her
father would hear them and rescue her.

“Where's your Pa, then?”

Flower looked up and beyond the man. “Here he
comes.” She could see her father striding toward them through the trees, a large
stick in his raised hand. She ran and clung to him.

“Don't go pushing my child about!”

“I didn't mean any harm.”

“It surely looked like you did.”

“I wasn't going to hurt her. Please, I'm a slave on
the run. I'm waiting for someone to help me cross the river.”

“Waiting? How long?”

“Today is four.”

Flower's father dropped the stick and looked toward
the river. “We must talk.”

Cleo, with Gabriel bouncing in her arms, rushed to
embrace Flower when they returned. The hug was paired with a scolding. “Where
have you been? You must stay close.” She noticed the stranger following behind.
“Is this the man who is going to help us?”

“No. He's waiting too,” Eldon said.

“Oh no.” Cleo's voice was soft with disappointment
as she turned to greet the newcomer. Flower turned her face away, heard her
mother gasp. “You're hurt!” Cleo stepped closer and studied the side of his
head. “Let me see to it.” She handed the baby to her daughter.

“There's a safer place down by the river,” said the
stranger.

The family gathered their few belongings and
followed him to the sheltered spot. There, Cleo tore a rag in two. She dipped
one section in the river and gently washed the man's wound, removing the crusted
blood from his face, then covered his lesion with the other. His swollen eye
slowly opened, and he looked at his nurse with gratitude. Flower carried her
brother, sang quietly to him, and wondered how her mother could stand to touch
such ugliness.

After, they sat together and shared their food.
Eldon said, “Tell us your story.”

The man sat quietly as if to collect his thoughts,
then began. “My name is Samuel. I come from a plantation in Georgia. The master
was cruel. He treated us so bad.”

“His name?”

“Logan.”

Eldon nodded and Samuel continued. “He sold my
sister. She cried and cried, and tried to hold on to me, but she was pulled
away. We'd been together forever; she was the only family I had. It was too much
for me. I couldn't stand being there any longer. I decided to run away. I didn't
succeed, as you can see.” Samuel swallowed and looked at the ground. “After I
was caught and returned to him, he called everyone together to watch. Then he
nailed my ear to a post, drew a knife, and sliced it off.”

Poor Samuel! Flower's fingers touched her right
ear—grateful it was still there—then her mouth, as she felt a rising nausea. She
closed her eyes and tried to close her mind against the dreadful images there.

“I stayed for one day, then ran again,” continued
Samuel.

“Terrible, terrible,” said Cleo.

Eldon brooded. “We need to leave this place. I have
to wonder if the man who is supposed to help us is going to come, or whether we
should try to find our own way to cross the river.”

“The river is deep and fast,” said Samuel. “We
should look for a place that's easier to cross.”

“Perhaps tonight the man will come,” said Cleo, but
her voice was wistful.

CHAPTER 8

Felicia

FELICIA STEPPED
down from the school bus and walked up the driveway, carrying her extra clothing. Her grandmother sat on the porch.

“What's that you're carrying? Have you been to a rummage sale? Or shopping?”

“I wish.” Felicia flopped down on the steps and dropped her bundle. “I'm so hot!”

“The world is heating up, there's no doubt. We're paying for our sins: avarice and greed.”

“Don't those two words mean the same thing?”

“What of it?”

“You're repeating yourself.”

“Of course. I meant to…for emphasis.” Florence changed the subject. “You managed to organize a seat on the bus.”

“Yup. No problem.”

“Good. How about the school? Were the kids friendly?”

Felicia didn't want to repeat the words whispered behind her back in the classroom. “I met three girls. They helped me out with all this stuff.” She described the sharing and the way they had all sashayed into the classroom wearing her clothes.

Florence laughed. “They sound like good kids. Now, if Delia's job works out as well as your school, we'll be just fine.”

“I have homework, too, you'll be glad to know.”

“What kind of homework are you getting on the first day of school? Weren't you able to keep up?”

“Don't worry, Nana, I can keep up. We're supposed to write about what we did this summer.”

“‘How I spent my summer vacation.' Your teacher doesn't sound very imaginative. So what are you going to write about? Our trip to Niagara Falls?”

“No, not that. I'll think of something.” Felicia gathered her discarded clothing. “I'm going to change into some shorts.”

“Wait up. Give me a hand. That's a good girl.” Florence pushed herself from the chair and stood stiffly. “This blasted knee.” She placed a hand on her granddaughter's shoulder, and together they walked into the house. Florence settled in a large lounge chair, moved a lever on its side, and a part of the chair flipped up to support her feet. As her head tilted back, she pointed the remote control at the television set in the corner. The screen expanded and noise filled the room.

Her granddaughter was not an admirer of the game show that filled the screen. “How can that woman be so excited about a refrigerator? Why doesn't she save her pride and just go out and buy one?”

“Maybe she can't afford to.”

Felicia considered her grandmother's answer, and her intense focus on the program. “Nana, do you want a new refrigerator?”

“No, dear.”

“But if you needed one, could you afford to buy it, or would you have to make a fool of yourself on some stupid TV show like this poor loser woman is doing?”

“I could buy one. I'd have to make payments, I guess. But I wouldn't mind being on this program either. It's fun trying to answer the questions. I'm pretty good at it.”

“I still think it's not dignified.” But Florence's attention had shifted back to the set, so Felicia retreated to her bedroom. It was a small space with shelves on one wall from floor to ceiling. The opposite wall had a window. Felicia perched on her narrow bed and gazed out.

The garden was large and unruly—flowers and vegetables grew beside each other. There was no apparent effort at design, but the space was radiant with color. Beyond the garden, she could see the neighbor's orchard, and in the distance, broad fields, flat, then undulating to the base of large blue-green hills. Felicia recognized the beauty, yet she missed the brick buildings and busy streets of the city. She wondered what her friends were doing.

The telephone was located on a wall in the kitchen. Felicia started down the stairs. “Nana, can I use the phone?”

“Is that for long distance?”

“Yes.”

“Normally, I'd say no, 'cause it's expensive this time of day. But I know you're missing your friends, so just fifteen minutes.”

Felicia settled at the kitchen table and called her friend Lenore.

“Felish! What's happening?”

“Not much. What's happening with you?”

“Rosalee's here. We're beading bracelets and watching Y and R.”

“I wish I was there with you. I haven't seen it in so long, I can't remember the story.”

“It's so good. Lance is falling in love with Marie, but Marie has this past secret, and she knows if he finds out, he'll hate her.”

“What's the terrible secret?”

“We're not sure, but we think it's because her parents aren't her real parents. She was a stray left at somebody's front door. Her real dad's a killer, and he's just escaped from prison.”

“I can relate. Today I feel like a stray left at somebody's front door.”

“Felish! Can you come back here? Come and live with us.”

“I have a mom and grandma, remember? But I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too. Come down and see us. You can stay at my place.”

“Really?”

“Duh! Of course.”

“Felicia, time's up!” Her grandmother called out. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Turn the oven on for me, that's a good girl. When it gets to be 350, put the meatloaf in. It's sitting on the counter. And pare the carrots.”

Felicia turned and looked at the preparations for dinner—the meat in a loaf pan, a pile of orange vegetables. “Okay.”

“Then come and join me, sweetie, when you're finished. This program is fun.”

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