Texas Born (7 page)

Day after day, the ruthless taunts continued.
Elizabeth-Anne learned to ignore them as best she could, usually by
pretending not to hear them. Even Jenny, who had always enjoyed
being one of the most popular girls, found her popularity waning
dangerously. Because Elizabeth-Anne lived with her, she was
sometimes included in the verbal assaults. She complained bitterly
to Elender about it.

'Auntie, you've
got
to take
'Lizbeth-Anne out of school!' she begged.

'But why, for heaven's sake?'

'Everybody's making fun of her!'

'Perhaps they'll soon stop.'

'But they're making fun of me too!' Jenny
wailed.

'You're old enough to ignore that kind of
rubbish,' she told Jenny gently. 'Anyway, you're fortunate because
you can take care of yourself. But Elizabeth-Anne's a special
child. You've got to stick up for her, be her big sister.'

But Jenny soon discovered how to regain her
lost popularity. By being the ringleader and thereby avoiding
association with Elizabeth-Anne, she became even more cruel and
heartless toward her than all the others combined. In fact, it was
she who began to mastermind the assaults.

In class, Elizabeth-Anne felt reasonably
safe. Miss Welcker ruled her students with an iron hand, and
Elizabeth-Anne's desk was in the front row. But she dreaded going
to school, dreaded walking there and back home, and dreaded
recesses most of all. That was when the others had the best
opportunity to torment her.

This gnawing fear of recesses refused to
leave her, and she always tried to stay as close to Miss Welcker as
possible.

Elizabeth-Anne's fears were not without
foundation. Because it was not long before she was physically
assaulted.

The same routine greeted Elizabeth-Anne and
Jenny each school morning. Elender woke them up at five- thirty
sharp, poured pots of boiling water into two enamel washbowls, and
sent the girls outside to fetch their own buckets of cold water
from the pump. After they had washed up and dressed, they headed
across the street to the Good Eats Café, where Elender cooked and
served the girls breakfast while she rushed around getting things
ready for the café's first customers of the day. Then, when
Elizabeth-Anne and Jenny finished eating, they split up and did
their hour of morning chores. Finally Elender would hand them their
lunches—usually two slices of home-baked bread spread liberally
with congealed, salted bacon fat, and an apple or a pear, all
neatly wrapped in newspaper and tied with a string. Then she would
inspect each girl to make sure she was neat, admonish her to be
good and study hard, and kiss them both good-bye. She would watch
proudly from the porch as they walked off together down Main Street
to school.

They look like sisters,
Elender would
think warmly, grateful that they were finally getting along better
with each other.

Little did she know how wrong she was.

Jenny glanced over her shoulder. Auntie's
house was out of sight. 'Go on by yourself, freak,' she said
caustically.

Elizabeth-Anne stared at her and then went on
to school alone.

Jenny watched her for a moment before turning
down a side street and slowly walking past the Pitcock house. At
the end of the street she turned around and passed the house
again.

A few minutes later Laurenda Pitcock caught
up with her. 'What do you think you're doin'?' she hissed
breathlessly. 'You were supposed to wait by the bandstand for me!
We had a deal.'

Jenny tossed her pigtails defiantly. 'I can
walk where I like,' she said with laughter in her voice.

'If my mama saw you and thought you were
waitin' for me, I'd be in big trouble.'

'And get whipped again?' Jenny said
slyly.

Laurenda scowled. 'I told you before, I don't
get whipped.'

'That's not what I heard. 'Sides, for a few
days after your mama and all the ladies came to visit Auntie, you
had trouble sittin'!'

'That's a lie!'

Jenny hooted with laughter. Angrily Laurenda
grabbed her arm. Jenny stopped laughing and looked at her
challengingly. After a moment Laurenda let go of her. She kicked a
pebble and watched it skip down the road. 'Sometimes I think you
don't like me,' she mumbled.

Jenny shrugged. 'I don't care what you
think.' She offered Laurenda her lunch pack. 'Want my apple?'

Laurenda shook her head, and for a while they
walked on in silence. Then, as they neared the school, Jenny turned
to her, a smile on her face. 'I have an idea,' she said slowly.
'But I need your help. And everybody else's too.'

'Is it about the freak?' Laurenda looked at
her with quickening interest.

Jenny nodded. 'It'll keep her from coming to
school.'

Laurenda stopped walking and stared at her.
'You're sure?'

'I'm sure. Can I count you in on it?'

Laurenda squirmed uncomfortably. 'Will I get
into trouble?'

'I don't think so,' Jenny said slowly. Then
she brightened. 'And if you do, your mama won't care, will she, as
long as it keeps the freak out of school?'

Laurenda grinned and Jenny put an arm around
her shoulder, confidentially drawing her head close to hers. They
walked slowly toward the schoolhouse. 'I've got it all figured
out,' Jenny said in a low voice. 'We'll do it tomorrow at recess.
That'll give us enough time to get everybody ready. I'll distract
Miss Welcker, so you don't have to worry about her. Now, here's
what you and the others need to do. . . .'

Midmorning. The following day.

Miss Welcker frowned at the class, her hard
dark eyes and thin lipless mouth set into disapproving lines. What
she saw brought on a feeling of uneasiness. The roomful of children
facing her, sitting ramrod straight and still, with hands folded in
total obedience, was too good to be true.

Melissa Welcker was a middle-aged woman with
a complexion like glazed ceramic and unmanageable graying hair
escaping a tight bun. She had been teaching for over twenty-two
years, and relied greatly on instinct. She prided herself on being
able to sense when some elusive mischief or other was brewing, and
she could sense it now. The children had been too well- behaved
this morning, and their faces, though carefully set like masks,
could not hide the eager anticipation in their eyes. Something was
definitely up. If only she knew what.

Slowly she reached for the brass bell she
kept on her desk and picked it up by its wooden handle. She held it
thoughtfully for a moment, then gave it a single shake.

The moment the clang reverberated through the
room, the children rushed to the door, their feet stampeding the
scrubbed floor like a herd of cattle. By prearrangement, everyone
would play pin-the-tail-on- the-donkey. On her way out, Laurenda
Pitcock reached for the 'tail,' which was kept on a shelf. It
consisted of several lengths of rawhide tied together with a thick
pin stuck through the knot at the top end. The 'donkey' was cut
from a large board and was nailed to the fence in the schoolyard.
For as long as anybody in Quebeck could remember, that donkey had
been there, the wood gradually weathering into a dull pewter patina
until it looked the color of a real donkey. Parents remembered
playing with it, and over the years, only the tail had had to be
regularly replaced.

Melissa Welcker gathered up several books,
scraped back her chair, and started to rise from her desk, when she
noticed a lone pupil standing in front of her. She looked up in
surprise. 'Yes, Jennifer? Aren't you going outside to play?'

'I've got some division problems I don't
understand,' Jenny said timidly. 'I wondered . . .'

Miss Welcker folded her hands on the desktop
and frowned at Jenny. 'But you're doing just fine, Jennifer! You
got an A on your last test.'

Jenny smiled tightly. 'I know, but I would
like to do even better. I'm still a little confused, especially
with the fractions. . . .' She bit down on her lower lip and stole
a glance behind her at the open door.

Melissa Welcker sighed. 'Very well,
Jennifer,' she said. 'Shut the door and we'll see what we can
do.'

Jenny could barely keep the triumph off her
face. Now all she had to do was ask enough questions to keep Miss
Welcker occupied for the next half-hour. That way, recess wouldn't
be supervised.

The others were counting on her.

Outside on the playground, Elizabeth-Anne
kept to herself and walked around the yard slowly with her head
tucked down. The day was cool and crisp and invigorating, and there
was a decided nip in the air that told her winter was not far off.
She could almost smell it in the wind that blew down from the
north. Despite the sweater she wore, she rubbed her forearms
briskly with her hands.

She was oblivious of everything going on
around her. She felt protected by this invisible wall she erected
between herself and the others.

She was so involved in her own introspection
that she never noticed everyone drifting quietly toward her from
all sides. When she did become aware of it, it was too late. She
was entirely surrounded.

Her heart skipped a beat and she looked about
in confusion. She took a step forward to walk away, but Laurenda
Pitcock blocked her. She turned in another direction, but Nadine
Derrick stood in her way. She felt a chill racing up her spine. She
hadn't realized that she had strayed so far from the schoolhouse.
Suddenly she wished she had stayed near the porch.

Laurenda put her face so close to
Elizabeth-Anne's that she could smell Laurenda's warm breath. 'You
scared?' the bigger girl growled.

Elizabeth-Anne's eyes filled with tears, but
she shook her head defiantly.

With two fingers Laurenda held up the black
handkerchief that was used as a blindfold while playing
pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. Having always been excluded from the
games, Elizabeth-Anne now stared at the handkerchief with special
terror. She took a step backward and bumped into somebody.

'Aw, come on, 'Lizbeth-Anne,' Laurenda
urged.

'Don't be such a sissy. We only want you to
play with us. Right, everybody?' She looked around.

There were soft laughs and grunts of
agreement.

'See?' Laurenda said.

Elizabeth-Anne stared at her, lips trembling.
She didn't like Laurenda Pitcock. The girl was mean and frightened
her. And Laurenda was very chummy with Jenny. Besides,
Elizabeth-Anne knew quite well that Mrs. Pitcock had headed the
delegation of women who had visited Auntie.

Her eyes now darted toward the schoolhouse.
She prayed that Miss Welcker was around, so she could make a quick
getaway. But the teacher was nowhere in sight.
Where was
she?

Against her better judgment, Elizabeth-Anne
found herself letting Laurenda blindfold her. She could feel her
knees buckling as the black handkerchief was tied firmly around her
head. Now she could neither talk nor see, but she bravely tried to
keep from showing her terror. She would play the game fearlessly,
she decided. Perhaps then they would get bored and leave her
alone.

She held the 'tail' straight out in front of
her, trying to remember in which direction the fence with the
donkey was.

She took a deep breath, dreading what was
coming. She had no idea what the children were up to. But she knew
that it couldn't be nice.

Then she felt a dozen rough hands grabbing
her and spinning her savagely around. And then around again. And
then again. . . .

Even with the blindfold on, she seemed to be
able to see the world reeling dizzily around her. Again and again
she was spun around, the hands slapping at her, grabbing her,
spinning her ever more fiercely like a dervish gone out of control,
until she felt herself tripping and starting to collapse.

At a signal from Laurenda, the children
stepped back simultaneously and Elizabeth-Anne fell heavily to her
knees. She made a strange hiss as the wind whooshed out of her, and
her scraped knees burned terribly. Tears stung in her eyes, and she
reached up to undo the handkerchief.

A rain of slaps forced her hands away. She
let out a silent cry as her arms were grabbed and her gloves were
pulled off. She could hear the awe and laughter as her hands were
examined.

Why are they doing this to me?
she
wanted to scream, feeling as humiliated as if she had been stripped
naked.
I only want to be left alone! I never hurt
anybody!

She started to crawl along the ground to get
away.

'Get up, freak!' someone hissed. She thought
it was Laurenda, but she couldn't be certain.

Slowly she staggered to her feet. Then she
felt it. A bite on her hand. More bites. No! Not bites . . .
burns
. They were throwing matches at her hands! Holding them
to her flesh!

Terror overcame her and she tried to break
away and run, but someone tripped her and she fell on her face. She
raised her head and tried to cry out. Tried, in vain, to call for
help.

But not a sound would come out of her
throat.

Melissa Welcker checked the watch she wore
pinned to her dress, stepped out onto the side porch, and rang her
bell. Recess was over.

The children ran to the door, lined up
quietly, and filed inside. Jenny got up from the front row and
passed the teacher on her way back to her usual seat. 'Thank you
for helping me, Miss Welcker,' she said politely. 'I understand
everything much better now.'

'Fractions are difficult'—the teacher
nodded—'but not impossible. Anytime you need help, don't hesitate
to ask.'

'I won't, Miss Welcker,' Jenny promised.

The children found their seats and sat
quietly, waiting for class to resume. Jenny pointedly avoided
looking at anyone.