School of Charm (4 page)

“I never heard of that.” My turtle could crawl between the petals and be lost for weeks.

The yard was stuffed with flowerpots and decorations and statues. I turned in a circle to take it all in. Vines wrapped around trees and trellises, trying to touch the sky. Benches snuggled up to huge bushes. Hundreds of pink roses dangled from a wooden archway. The flowers were brighter and bigger and stranger than any I'd ever seen, like in a Dr. Seuss book. Wind chimes tinkled, but there still wasn't even a breeze. I felt out of breath, but I hadn't been running.

The lady stood there watching me. Her shoulders were straight and she held her head high, like Charlene did at her beauty pageants. A bad feeling settled over me. “Is this a charm school for magic—or for beauty?” My cheeks burned. Rats. This was embarrassing.

“Which would you like it to be?” she asked.

Magic
,
I thought. It was supposed to be a magical day, after all. I lifted a shoulder, and I expected her to scold me like Grandma probably would have for shrugging instead of answering. But this lady smiled at me.

She set down her watering can and looked at me as if I was a flower she was deciding whether or not to pick. “All students who graduate from this school leave more beautiful.” She brushed her hands off and walked over. “And all students who graduate from this school take a bit of magic with them.”

I stared at her, not really sure what she meant. She was either an old woman who looked younger or a young woman who looked older. She was tall and a little plump. Her hair was blondish-white, pulled up in a bun, almost the same color as her dinnerplate dahlias. Wisps of it were stuck to her moist, tan cheeks.

“What's your name, dear?”

“Brenda Anderson.” I twisted my hands in front of me and looked up to the house. “Where is Miss Vernie? And who can join her school?”

Her lips fluttered into a smile again. “I am Miss Vernie. And you've joined just by showing up.”

I took a step back. Then another. I crossed my arms. “I probably don't have enough money for your school.”

“My charm school is free to those who need it.”

I sucked in my bottom lip. I didn't need to be coming for free. I had thirty-five dollars hidden in my pajama drawer. Two years' worth of birthday and Christmas cash. I didn't even know for sure what kind of school this was, so how was I supposed to know if I needed it? My mouth was dry, and the words ran out of my head.

I figured Miss Vernie could tell what I was thinking. Her eyes got all crinkly around the corners. “The only people who find their way here are the ones who need it. You're free to stay if you choose. And you can stay for free.” She smiled at me like she was the sun, granting me some of her rays. Then she picked up a small shovel that was resting against a tree and walked toward a garden next to her house.

Without any straight answers, Billy would have said this was stupid and run back down her driveway searching for our next adventure. But Billy wasn't there. I followed her and watched while she dug up a clump of red flowers.

“Would you believe I have to move all these?” she said, as if we hadn't even been talking about the school.

I kicked at a mushroom growing in the lawn. “Why?”

“Too shady in this spot. I'll try them somewhere else.”

I cupped my elbows and squeezed hard. “Will they survive?”

“Flowers are a lot hardier than you might imagine. Most things are, really.” She stared at me until I felt my skin prickle again.

I cleared my throat. “About the school. When do classes start?”

“Why, class is in session right now.”

I locked my gaze with her, trying to see if she had squinty, liar eyes, or worse—wild eyes. Billy said you can never trust someone with wild eyes. “There's a class?” I asked in a shaky voice. “Where?”

She spread her arms wide. “Right here in the garden.” Her eyes were soft and blue and clear.

I looked around for desks or books or something. Two squirrels sat on a tree branch, watching us. “What about the other students?”

She pointed her shovel across the yard, where two girls were kneeling in front of a small garden. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She got up and brushed some dirt off her flowery dress and reached into her pocket. She pulled out a gold bracelet. A charm bracelet. It twisted and glinted like it was a shiny little snake squirming in her grasp. “You'll be needing this.” She fastened it around my wrist.

My skin tingled. I wasn't used to wearing jewelry. I didn't even have my ears pierced. Every girl in the fifth grade back home had her ears pierced.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” I held the bracelet up to examine the charms dangling from the chain: a pair of ballet slippers, a mirror, a flower, and a heart. I wanted to tell her I didn't wear jewelry, and that trying this girly stuff on me was a big waste.

“It's the only rule at our school: You have to wear the bracelet at all times. That's how you know when you've completed a lesson—when you lose a charm.” She folded her hands and looked very pleased with herself.

“What are the lessons?” The hot sun was making me woozy. Maybe she
was
crazy.

With a smile, she tilted her head. “You won't know until you've learned it.”

She stared at me and I stared back. Then I let out my breath. “When are the classes?”

She shrugged. “Come when you like. School ends when you've lost all your charms.”

I shivered, feeling the cold metal against my skin.

“Go on,” she said, shooing me with her hands. “Join the other girls.”

I angled my body toward them, but I couldn't move. I looked over my shoulder at her. “Are you sure?”

“If you are,” she said, with a note in her voice like one of her wind chimes.

Not one bit of this made any sense. But I lifted my foot like it had been stuck in mud for a year and walked over to the two girls.

chapter four

I
SHUFFLED ALONG THE PATH, FINGERING MY CHARMS.
I tried not to think of Billy rolling on the ground like a beetle on its back, laughing at me wearing a fancy gold bracelet out in the woods. If he were here, we'd be lifting rocks looking for newts and bugs. My fingers twitched to get in the dirt. To pick a few plants and examine the leaves. To look for moss and forgotten nests. Back home Billy and I had planted corn from seeds in the spring, and the stalks were two feet high by the time I left. We were having a contest to see whose would be the tallest. He and I would be busy in this woodsy garden for weeks. Daddy would've loved it too. I swallowed a big lump in my throat. When I reached the two girls planting seedlings in a patch of red dirt, I faked a cough.

They stopped talking and stared at me. I waved. My bracelet jangled and I grabbed it with my other hand to quiet it.

A chubby, brown-haired girl about my age squinted at me and rubbed the back of her hand under her nose. It looked like a slug had slunk across her skin, leaving a trail of slime. “What's on your face?” she asked.

I touched the red birthmark on my cheek but said nothing. The two girls checked me out as I stood there.

“What's your name?” asked a black girl. She looked older than me, and her skin was the color of Mama's coffee after she adds her double creams. Her long legs were tucked beneath her like a grasshopper ready to pounce. Big yellow eyes stared at me from under a high Afro. Her hair could have been a dandelion with reddish-brown fuzzy seeds set to fly. I'd never seen anyone like her, and whatever words I was going to say tumbled back down my throat.

“Can't you talk?” she asked, looking me up and down.

I swallowed hard. “It's Chip. My name's Chip.”

“Like a boy?” the chubby girl asked with a snort. The snot glistened on her hand.

“It's my daddy's nickname for me.”

“Your daddy sure is funny.” She rubbed her nose again, leaving a streak of dirt on her face.

Words clunked along my tongue, and I tried not to spit them out. “My daddy's dead.”

The black girl shrugged. “So's my mama. I think.”

I wanted to ask how she died, but the girl turned back to her seedlings.

The chubby girl held out her hand. The one with the snot. “I'm Karen.”

I shook the tips of her fingers and sat next to her, looking around at their work. “What have you guys been learning?”

Karen sighed. “Not much. I still have all my charms.” She held up her bracelet. She had the same four charms dangling from her wrist.

I looked over at the black girl, but she didn't look back. “Does she have the same charms too?”

I'd never had a black friend. We just had one black student at our school—Michael—and he moved away a few months ago. The only time I even saw any black people was when we drove into the city for the children's Christmas party at Daddy's factory. And those kids mostly kept to themselves.

Karen pointed her shovel at the black girl. “Dana's got the same charms.”

Dana. I said her name silently, a tough little word tucked between my tongue and teeth. I looked at her, and my stomach felt squirmy like it did around Michael. Daddy had talked a lot about the bigots who worked at the factory and were mean to his black friends. I did not want to be a bigot. But I wasn't entirely certain how to act around a black girl who wouldn't look at me. But if her mama was dead like my daddy, I'd sure like to talk to her about it.

I kept eyeing her, hoping she'd glance my way, but I finally gazed off into the woods. “So we're all supposed to learn the same lessons here?”

Karen shrugged. “I guess. I figure the mirror has something to do with beauty. That's what I'm hoping, since I'm entering the Junior Miss Dogwood pageant.”

My heart tumbled. “So this is a school to train for beauty pageants?”

“What else would it be?” Dana asked.

“I don't know.” They'd probably laugh if I said magic. My hands shook as I took a few small plants from the tray. “How long have you two been here?” The sun was hot on my head.

Dana squinted. “I came last week, and Karen showed up three days ago.”

“Have you been working in the garden the whole time?” I scooped out a little hole and dropped my plant in. “Is that regular charm school training?”

“Miss Vernie says we'll learn exactly what we need if we do what she asks every day,” Karen said. “She's a little strange, but she's nice.”

Dana tipped up her chin. “My daddy doesn't have money for the charm school in Winston-Salem, plus it's too far away. This will do.”

Karen stopped working and leaned back. “I'm just happy I'm not at home, listening to my stepfather tell me how fat I am.” She closed her eyes and kicked off her flip-flops. She wiggled her painted toes that looked like squirming little pigs. “I hadn't planned to be in the Miss Dogwood Pageant until Dana told me about the Junior Miss competition. I'll show him who's an ugly lump.”

“He called you that?” Dana asked.

“No, but I know that's what he thinks,” Karen said. “Just because I'm not into sports like his two sons. Yuck. Sports.” She flicked a piece of dirt off her arm. “It's not my fault I watch a lot of TV. I haven't found my own thing yet. That's what my mom tells him.”

I wanted to tell her she wasn't an ugly lump. Really. But Daddy always said not to lie. “Well, I'm not competing,” I said.

Dana stopped digging. “Why'd you join this school then?” Her big lips turned down in a frown.

I traced my finger in the dirt. I didn't know how to answer her question. So I used a trick I learned on a detective show: ask a question when you don't want to answer one. “What about you?
You're
here for beauty pageant training?”

She narrowed her eyes until fire seeped out like a slice of light under a closed door. “Yes. I'm fifteen now, old enough to enter the Miss Dogwood Festival in August.”

“But, you're . . . I mean . . . I've never seen any black girls in pageants with my sister Charlene. Hardly ever in Miss America. Why do you want to enter this one? Don't you have your own pageants?” I thought I should look out for her, like Charlene had done for me. I wasn't like other girls who joined pageants like this, and neither was Dana.

Dana set her shovel down. “It's none of your beeswax why I entered. And why wouldn't I be able to win?” She looked me over, her gaze resting on my cheek. “You think you could?”

I wanted to shrivel up like one of Grandma's flowers. “My sister's entering. But I'm not.” I was getting off to a bad start with her, too, just like Grandma.

“You really think you belong here, then?” Her big eyes waited for an answer.

And I waited for an answer too. Or a sign from Daddy, 'cause it sure didn't feel like I fit in here any better than I did at Grandma's.

chapter five

D
ANA STOOD UP AND BRUSHED HER HANDS OFF
. “I'
M
heading up for lunch.” She walked along the path by herself before we could catch up. Karen trotted after her, and I lagged behind.

I wished I could have a few minutes alone with Dana. Daddy said sometimes the people who acted like they really didn't want a friend needed one most of all. That's how it had been with Billy. When he moved in down the street and ended up in the same class as me, he didn't like me one bit, and that was fine with me. But Daddy thought I should invite him over to do some exploring, on account of how Billy's father wasn't around. And Daddy had been right. Billy and I became friends the first time we tromped through the woods.

I walked along back to Miss Vernie's house, touching each charm on my bracelet: a mirror, a flower, ballet slippers, and a heart. I could just take the bracelet off and give it back to Miss Vernie. I probably should because I didn't have anything to learn here, did I? Miss Vernie had a big pitcher of lemonade set out on her picnic table, along with a plate of tiny sandwiches, deviled eggs, sliced oranges, and powdered cookies laid out on a white lace tablecloth. A vase filled with daisies and roses sat in the middle. I sat down because it seemed rude to leave her school right then after she'd made such a nice lunch for us. Miss Vernie took a seat with us at the table, smoothing a napkin across her lap. “So how are things today?”

Dana shrugged. “We haven't lost any charms yet, but we planted all your seedlings.”

“Are we going to learn how to hold our forks and cups at the table?” I asked with a frown. I pushed an egg around my plate, waiting for the bad news. Working out in the garden at charm school was just too good to be true.

Miss Vernie smiled. “Table manners? If that's what you'd like. Anyone know any tips?”

I looked at Dana, who was looking at Karen, who was looking at me.

“My stepfather always tells me to keep my elbows off the table. And to keep my fork out of the serving bowl,” Karen offered.

“I've seen my grandmama pat her lips with a napkin real gentle and set it back on her lap,” Dana said.

“Very good. All lovely ideas.” Miss Vernie picked up her glass and stuck her pinkie out. “And I've seen people in the movies do this at fancy parties.”

“But you don't know for sure?” I asked. “That's not one of our lessons?”

“Not unless you want it to be,” Miss Vernie said.

Dana squeezed a sandwich between her long, dark, elegant fingers. “No, thanks. That sounds like a boring lesson to me.”

“What do you want us to do the rest of the day?” Karen put her elbows back on the table. She stacked two sandwiches on top of each other and took a big bite.

“I think today is for the birds,” Miss Vernie said, floating her hand through the air.

Dana pushed back from the table. “I'll get the buckets and scrub brush.”

“No, no. You sit. I'll fetch the things.” Miss Vernie popped a cookie into her mouth and disappeared behind the shed.

I turned to Dana. “What does she mean, ‘today is for the birds'?”

“That means we get to scrub the birdbaths and fill the feeders. Actually, you will, since I did it last week. I'll supervise.”

“So you don't have to work on posture or something like that for your pageant?” I asked.

“We're supposed to do what Miss Vernie tells us,” Dana said, like I was a first-grader.

I shrugged. “I like birds.”

“She's got twelve birdbaths. Have you ever seen what those nasty starlings leave behind?” Dana asked, blinking her huge amber eyes.

Miss Vernie returned with six small empty buckets and a burlap sack. “Here, girls. Now make sure you hold a bucket in each hand when you're carrying the water. Keep yourself balanced and stand up straight.” She crossed her arms and smiled at us, creases forming around her bright blue eyes and her cheeks glowing pink from the heat. “That's all for today.” She scurried off down one of her paths, and we went to fill the buckets up with the hose.

Even though starling poop dries up like concrete, I didn't mind cleaning out those birdbaths. Dana rinsed off the dirt once I'd finished cleaning, and Karen refilled each bath, huffing and puffing as she picked up the buckets. I poured a few handfuls of seed into each feeder while the two of them fetched more water.

I kicked a pinecone off the path and ran my hands over the rough bark of a big tree. I closed my eyes and breathed in the fresh, warm smell of the woods and the earth. The scent of pine filled my nose. I stretched my arms to the sky and pretended for a moment that I was home.

The girls returned with the water and I went back to work. Karen and Dana stood silently, slapping away mosquitoes and examining their nails while I scraped the birdbaths.

“You coming tomorrow, Chip?” Dana said my name like it was a piece of food caught between her teeth. She pressed her big lips together.

Yes!
The answer was a popcorn kernel that popped in my brain, surprising me. But this had been a lot more fun than sitting inside looking at Grandma's dolls. “I guess.” I forced myself to say the words slowly and quietly.

Karen held her charm bracelet up so it caught the sun. “I ain't got nothing else to do this summer. If I stay home, my mom will probably make me read. I'll be here.” Her brown hair was flat against her head, and beads of sweat trickled down her cheeks from our hard work.

When we finished, Dana and Karen wheeled their bikes down the long, long driveway then took off riding, standing up on their pedals, just like I used to on my old bike. I stepped out of the cool refuge of the woods, onto the hot pavement, and started back toward Grandma's. I couldn't hear Miss Vernie's wind chimes and their metallic whispers anymore. Seems like the minute I walked off her property, they disappeared.

And so did the good feeling that had snuck into my heart for a few hours.

Then my stomach flipped. I'd forgotten about my turtle. He'd been in the closet all day! Unless Grandma found him. If she did, he was probably gone. Or stuffed, sitting on a shelf in the dead animal room. Or boiling in a great big pot for soup. I started jogging. I had to talk to Daddy about this. How was I going to take care of a baby turtle that had come way too early?

Then I remembered. Daddy was gone. I'd have to talk to Mama about my turtle instead. Only, I'd never talked to Mama about any of my problems before. Just Daddy. I started walking slower and slower thinking about the truth. Daddy was gone. Really, really gone. He was in heaven, and I was stuck in North Carolina. And he wasn't doing anything to show me he'd been listening.