Sophie’s World (8 page)

“Come on in, Dad,” she heard Lacie say. “Check out this game schedule.”

Sophie shut her eyes. The kind face of Jesus smiled at her.

“Jesus,” she whispered. “Does Daddy love Lacie more than he loves me? I should have told him and Mama about today, but I’m afraid. And Lacie always gets A’s in citizenship. Lord, I don’t want to feel like this. Amen.”

But Sophie didn’t feel peaceful. She just hoped that Dr. Peter was right.

Seven

S
aturday dragged past breakfast and cartoons, past lunch and chores until the black SUV finally pulled into the driveway. Sophie hadn’t had a minute alone to ask over the phone, but she hoped for the millionth time that Fiona hadn’t told her parents about the cheating accusation.

But the minute she saw Fiona bolt out of the car, Sophie forgot about that.

Antoinette gathered up her skirts and rushed breathlessly to meet her friend. Although she knew it wasn’t ladylike, Antoinette rushed past the woman climbing down from the carriage; so eager was she to get to Henriette.

“Whoa, there!” she said.

“Sophie—watch where you’re going!” Daddy said.

“My word! Are you hurt?” said Mama.

Sophie snapped back to the real scene. A slender woman lay halfway on her back on the driveway.
That’s not who picks up Fiona at school
, Sophie thought. Daddy pinched his eyebrows together as he grabbed the woman’s hand.

“You need to be aware of your surroundings,” he said to Sophie. “You knocked down—”

“Amy,” said the woman, who rose to her feet. “Amy Bunting. And don’t worry about it. I get tangled in those two almost daily.” She nodded toward Fiona’s little brother and sister who had climbed from the SUV and were already chasing Zeke.

A very tall man with bright eyes and narrow shoulders introduced himself as Ethan Bunting. When Fiona introduced Boppa, her grandfather, she planted a kiss on top of his bald head.

“Fiona talks about you all the time,” he said to Sophie.

“Boppa, would you mind—?” said Mrs. Bunting. Boppa gave a here-we-go-again smile and headed toward the porch where Fiona’s little brother and sister were climbing the railing with Zeke right behind them.

“I thought that other lady was your mom,” Sophie whispered to Fiona.

“Marissa? No, she’s our new nanny. Boppa loves to joke about how long she’ll last. We’ve never had one stay longer than six months.”

“How come your mom didn’t go after them?” Sophie asked Fiona.

“She can save your life on an operating table, but she can’t make those kids do anything. They’re brats.”

“Your mom’s a doctor?”

“Yeah. She’s a thoracic surgeon.”

Sophie didn’t ask her what
that
meant, but it sounded important and probably messy. Their dads stood at the back of the SUV, examining cameras. Fiona grabbed Sophie’s hand and squeezed it as she dragged Sophie over there.

Daddy stood up straight just then, and Sophie’s chest fluttered. He was holding a video camera.

“Is that it?” Fiona asked. “Is that the one?”

Daddy nodded, still peering at the camera with the earpiece of his sunglasses in his mouth.

“Yes!” Fiona said. “Can we play with it now?” She reached to snag the camera.

She’s going to get in
so
much trouble
, Sophie thought.

But Mr. Bunting just said dryly, “You’re so ladylike, Fiona.” Daddy held the video camera out of Fiona’s reach, his eyes glued to Sophie’s.

“We saw our grades already,” Fiona said. “She did great. Are you gonna make her wait till Monday?”

“Sophie knows when she can have the camera,” he said, still staring straight into Sophie’s eyes. “The Buntings have to leave shortly. They’re on their way to Richmond for the weekend. I’ll just hang onto it until we see that progress report Monday morning.”

“Don’t worry,” Fiona whispered as her family loaded back into the car. “You
know
you’re going to get it.”

Antoinette did not appear for the rest of the weekend. But on Sunday night, Sophie grabbed her mobcap and stuck it on her head. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine Jesus.

“Is it ever going to be okay here?” she asked him. “Ever?”

Eight

A
s Sophie walked into school on Monday morning, she felt like throwing up her oatmeal. She imagined taking her progress report from class to class, her fate flowing from the tips of her teachers’ pens as each signed off the form.

Antoinette pressed her hand to her stomach and tried not to think about the wretched gruel she’d eaten at the empty farmhouse. Lafayette’s encampment lay before her, and she must now cross the James River without becoming seasick.

“Don’t worry,” Fiona said as they sat down in language arts. “We’ll get seat work today so the teachers can fill out the progress reports—”

Anne-Stuart leaned across the table. “So, how do you think you’ll do in here?” Willoughby leaned over Anne-Stuart’s shoulder with a smile. They wore identical shirts.

“Are you talking to
me
?” Sophie said.

“I just wondered how you think you’ll do on your progress report.”

“I got a C on the test,” Sophie said. “I didn’t get to finish all the questions.”

“Really?” Anne-Stuart said. She cocked her head, her headband stretching her hair smoothly back from her forehead. “I thought you would do really well.”

“You did?” Sophie said.

“You had plenty of help,” Anne-Stuart said. “What did you get, Fiona?”

“A-minus.” Fiona’s nostrils flared like little trumpets.

“We studied together,” Sophie said.

Anne-Stuart put a Kleenex to her mouth and coughed. Behind her, Willoughby coughed twice, and then yelped like a terrier.

“I don’t get it,” Anne-Stuart said to Fiona. She sniffed several times, and Sophie wondered why she didn’t use the Kleenex for her
nose
. “How come Sophie got a C and you got an A-minus?”

“I don’t know,” Fiona said through her teeth.

Anne-Stuart coughed again into the Kleenex. Then Willoughby hacked like a cigarette smoker. Across the room came the sound of someone coughing up a lung. Sophie saw B.J. staring straight at her. Kitty cackled nearby, her ponytail flopping like a flounder.

Anne-Stuart stopped choking and leaned toward Sophie. “I guess a C is pretty good for you, huh?”

“Yes,” Sophie said. “I’m trying to improve.”

“Not that it’s any of
your
business,” Fiona said.

Anne-Stuart gave an innocent blink, her eyes sinus-watery, and coughed into her Kleenex. Willoughby choked and yelped as the last bell rang.

“All right, people,” Mr. Denton said, his voice like a dial-tone. “I see only one person ready to work.”

Sophie looked where he was pointing with his chin and saw Julia glance up from her open literature book as if she were surprised by the attention.

“She is so corny,” Fiona whispered to Sophie.

Sophie pulled up the hood on her sweatshirt and stared at her open literature book without seeing a word.

At the end of the period, Mr. Denton laid the progress report in front of Sophie with a smile. There was a firm black C on it and the comment:
Much improvement! Sophie seems to be adjusting now.

“We’re on a roll!” Fiona said in the hallway. Sophie linked her arms in hers all the way into Ms. Quelling’s room.

“I’m moving you, Sophie,” Ms. Quelling said before Sophie could put down her backpack. “Over here where I
know
no one is going to help you.” Ms. Quelling pointed to a seat right next to Julia and across from Anne-Stuart and Maggie.

“I trust y’all,” Ms. Quelling said to them.

Julia and Anne-Stuart nodded solemnly at the teacher. Maggie offered one of her open stares, but the other girls didn’t glance her way.

“That way you won’t be tempted to even look at Fiona,” said Ms. Quelling. “The assignment is on the board.”

Anne-Stuart and Julia flipped their textbooks open.

“Aren’t you going to get started?” Maggie said to Sophie.

Sophie tried to read about the writing of the Constitution and answer Ms. Quelling’s questions. But she found herself writing things like
What if I still get a D because of my other tests?
so many times she almost wore down an entire eraser.

“Want one of my
new
pencils?” Anne-Stuart whispered.

“I’m fine,” Sophie said.

“Sophie,” Ms. Quelling said. “Look up the answers yourself.”

But all Sophie could do was
pretend
to be reading. Even Antoinette could do no more than that.

The period dragged on until Sophie knew she would absolutely dissolve into a small puddle if Ms. Quelling didn’t finish those reports in the next seven seconds.

And then suddenly Anne-Stuart whispered, “She’s done!”

“You look scared,” Julia said to Sophie.

Sophie didn’t answer. She just watched as Ms. Quelling put a paper facedown in front of each student.

“If you’ve worked hard,” Ms. Quelling said, “you have nothing to worry about.”

No!
Sophie wanted to cry out.
That’s not true!

Then Ms. Quelling put one at Sophie’s place, and Sophie stared at its blank back.

What difference does it make?
she thought.
Ms. Quelling hates me no matter what I do. I could get an A plus on my test, and she would probably still find a way to flunk me.

Antoinette slumped in despair. With Henriette nowhere in sight, how could she find Lafayette here
,
trapped in the enemy camp? Where can I turn? she thought. And then it came to her, like a tiny candle flickering in the darkness. Go to the Master Jesus, it whispered. Imagine his presence. Antoinette raised her face to the light and closed her eyes. Behind her she heard a soft cough.

And then another, coming from Anne-Stuart. And still another, a louder one, from the back table, where B.J. was hacking into Kitty’s sleeve.

“Do y’all need to go to the nurse’s office?” Ms. Quelling said. “I’m going to start handing out cough drops at the door.”

“You started it,” Maggie said to Anne-Stuart, words thudding.

Both Julia and Anne-Stuart looked at her as if she were a passing worm, and then they focused on Sophie. She still hadn’t turned hers over.

“The grade’s on the other side,” Maggie said.

“So—look at it,” Anne-Stuart said. She crossed her fingers. “We’re hoping for you.”

Julia crossed her fingers on
both
hands and nodded toward the back of Sophie’s paper.

Sophie wanted to fold it up and stick in her backpack and read it when there
weren’t
three pairs of eyes watching her as if she were about to dive off a cliff.

But something stopped her. Maybe it was the crossed fingers and the nodding heads. Julia and Anne-Stuart could be rude sometimes, but who couldn’t? Maybe they had some nice streaks in them, and maybe those were what were showing right now. Maybe they weren’t more evil than good.

Slowly Sophie lifted the paper and looked at it. Julia and Anne-Stuart practically climbed across the table. Sophie saw the small B-in the space marked “This Week’s Grade Average” and felt herself going limp.

“Is it bad?” Anne-Stuart said.

Sophie shook her head and turned it around. Julia’s eyes scanned it and landed. Her smile stuck in place, but a storm seemed to pass over her face. Anne-Stuart gave Julia a stricken look.

Sophie pressed the paper to her chest. Neither of the Pops had said a word, but all traces of “We’re hoping for you” were gone. She could only think one thing:
They were hoping all right—hoping I would fail.
An odd kind of nausea went up her throat. It had been one thing to be invisible to the Pops. But she was sure no one had ever
hoped
she would flunk. She shrank into Antoinette’s cloak.

Maggie pointed at Sophie’s paper. “What does the comment say?”

“I haven’t read it,” Sophie said.

“Well, look at it,” Maggie said. “That’s what
my
mother always goes for right away—the comment.”

Sophie looked.
I’m seeing improvement
, Ms. Quelling had written,
but I suspect it hasn’t happened honestly, though I have no proof at this time. Will watch the situation carefully. I have separated her from Fiona Bunting. Would advise that you do the same.