The Blueprint (4 page)

We stopped in front of the window facing the front of the home and looked down.  I spotted the top of Ms. Sweaney's head with her hairspray stiffened hair, arranged to hide a bald spot, and saw girls gathering to cross the street to school.

"It's clear," Jenny announced and took off running again.

I still had no idea what was going on, but apparently it was now safe to make noise as giggles accompanied the tapping of shoes through the winding halls. We halted in front of the office, bent over with big smiles and caught our breath.  I quickly recognized the purpose of our mission as Mrs. Jones emerged with arms open wide.

Karen got to her first burying her face in Mrs. Jones’ sweater.  The others squeezed in where they could.  I held up outside the group feeling awkward, but when Karen finished her turn and Mrs. Jones motioned me in, I couldn’t resist.  She still smelled like lavender and her sweater felt soft against my cheek.  She offered up the comfort I needed in order to face the next hitch this place threw at me.  I hadn’t noticed that the other girls had let go. 

Mrs. Jones str
oked my hair and her wrinkles increased with her smile. “Ah Lily, I see you’ve found yourself some good friends already.  I hope they asked you to join their club.”

I stepped back embarrassed and aware that I’d been clinging to her.  I couldn’t find my voice
. 

Karen answered for me.  “We asked Lily to be in our club right away and she said yes.  We’re all best friends now.  Could you find her some more shirts?  She needs a pink one, a yellow one, a purple one, and a white one too. “

Mrs. Jones rested her hands on Karen's shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “I’ll make it a priority."  Then she spun her toward the door.   "Now you girls run along before you-know-who sees us.   Have a good day at school.  Good luck today, Lily.” 

Energized by the morning mission, we ran off to catch up with the others as they filed out the doors I had first entered yesterday.  This room didn’t seem
as frightening when facing the exit.  My first night in a strange place was behind me which meant I was one day closer to being with Daddy again.   I was feeling okay, but I couldn’t see over the taller girls' heads at what was waiting for me. 

Ms. Sweaney
, stationed on the front steps, was inspecting each girl as she walked past commenting on clothing, hair, cleanliness, and attitude.  Everyone appeared to have something they could improve on.  When it was my turn she scolded, “Did you brush your hair?  It looks like a rat’s nest.”  And that fast, the boost of strength Mrs. Jones’ kindness had given me was gone.

3

"Duck!"

Splat

"
Oooh."  For the third time in less than an hour, Bobby Davis hit his mark, me.  He was as horrible as my friends warned, day after day shooting me with spit wads until it appeared I'd been rolling in Styrofoam.  Because my short hair didn’t allow for the usual ponytail pulling, he changed his tactic, using my curls to support the weight of slimy paper scraps.  I told on Bobby, but our teacher, Mrs. Fox, said she didn't witness the crime, and so the most she agreed to do was move our seats to the back where I had the good fortune of seeing the slobbery missiles coming---sometimes.

The girls from town were the worst.  Their ammunition
of choice was words.   I told myself I didn’t want or need their friendship. I wanted to be invisible to them like I was with Momma.  So I tried eating more than I wanted, hoping that would put some meat on my bones and give them one less thing to gossip about, but mostly it made me sick.  I also tried patting water on my hair to help tame my curls.  I didn’t pass a sink or fountain without sticking my hand in.  I thought it was working.  But they noticed and twisted my behavior into a story about not having a shower at the home so I washed in the water fountain at school.  Finally, my friends convinced me that it was no use; there’d always be something for the town girls to tease me about and I’d be better off using my energy to avoid them rather than please them.  However, ignoring them wasn’t enough to get them to stop.   It made their games more cruel.  Rumors started about why I was left at the home.  Each more hurtful than the last:  my parents didn’t want me because I was too ugly,  my parents were bank robbers,  my parents were murderers,  my parents were dead.  It got to the point where being at school was so awful that time at the home was a relief.

A cou
ple of months had passed and there was still no word from Daddy.  While I was starting to worry about his absence, my friends believed it was sign of great things.  Jenny believed it meant my daddy had a really important job and had to travel all over the world.  Karen was sure Daddy was busy making a movie in Hollywood and sometimes that took a long time, because things never went right on a movie set.  And Amy tried to convince me that Daddy was busy building a really big house and wanted to have it all decorated and ready before he picked me up.   As usual, Dani was no help.  She’d roll her eyes when she overheard me telling stories about silly things Daddy did, and she wouldn’t answer any of my questions when she snuck in the room at night to sleep.   Focusing on the fact that a promise was a promise and Daddy had never broken a promise to me, I stayed hopeful. 

With all the structure of living in the ho
me and going to school, time flew.  Ms. Sweaney preached that keeping us busy would keep us out of trouble, and that cleanliness was akin to godliness.  So every weekend the entire home was given a good scrubbing that kept us working until dinner time.  At night, we looked at the magazines Mrs. Jones snuck us.  We especially liked looking at pictures of celebrities. Karen could find a resemblance between her and any one of them and that kept the mystery of her parents' identity a number one priority for our club. 

What I missed most about weekends was
snuggling with Daddy in front of the TV on Saturday mornings and watching cartoons.  His favorite was always Road Runner.  Daddy had a great big laugh and every time that coyote was blown up he’d let out a whoop.   One night at dinner I was talking about my favorite cartoon characters to the other girls when Dani interrupted, “Lily, everybody knows Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck.  Why are you boring them with this stuff?”

“Well,
Jenny and Amy were little last time they saw cartoons.  And Karen says she can't remember the last time the TV in the activity room was turned on.”

Dani's friends confirmed
that since Ms. Sweaney had taken over as director the TV hadn't been touched.  They couldn't be certain it even worked anymore.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when the next weekend
the cleaning closet was found empty of all its supplies. With her routine interrupted, Ms. Sweaney was flustered and sent us all to the activity room while she investigated.  At first, we stood around not knowing what to do with our freedom.  But Dani did.  She walked right to the TV, plugged it in, and flipped it on.  I heard the familiar pop and sizzle that signaled a working television.  My sister adjusted the rabbit ears as she turned the knob to find the right station.  The youngest girls were scrambling for the closest seats while the oldest offered their laps.  As the black and white screen revealed what were thought to be lost friends, our imaginations filled in the colors. We were left to ourselves that entire morning while the director and her staff searched every inch of the home for the missing stuff.  

That was the first of many pranks in which I’m certain my sister was involved.  On spaghetti night, all the flatware disappeared.  It was easy to tell when Ms. Sweaney was mad because not only did her face flush hot,
but sweat would pool on her upper lip and chin. She stood with hands on her hips, glaring at the empty utensil holders, willing the missing items to appear.  We stood lined up at her right side ready to start dinner.  Scanning the line, she stopped when she got to Dani, and yelled, “Eat with your hands then!”    

O
ur trays full, we all began to carefully eat.   I pinched one noodle at a time, lifted it over my mouth, and laid it on my tongue.  Karen watched me and challenged, “Try this.”  She placed her hands on either side of her tray, leaned into the mound of spaghetti with her nose making contact first, and slurped.  She looked up covered in red sauce and opened her mouth to show me her catch.  I looked at Jenny who looked at Amy and together we accepted the challenge.  Kimmy’s giggles drew everyone’s attention and before we knew it all the girls were covered in sauce up to their eyebrows.

A week later the outside of the home was hit by toilet paper phantoms.  Whoever they were had good throwing arms
.  There was toilet paper in the giant oak trees out front that couldn’t be reached with the tallest ladders.   Ms. Sweaney fumed every morning with the embarrassment of scraps still in those trees.  She was so focused on the unreachable aggravation that she forgot to taunt us as we passed by for school.  The phantoms were worshiped as heroes for this break from the director's morning attacks.  And each week when a new prank followed like a holiday surprise the sadness of the place lifted a little more.

The day everything
with plugs was found unplugged and Ms. Sweaney’s desk chair was discovered on the front lawn, Mrs. Jones asked me to stay behind after the secret mission to talk.  She told me that Ms. Sweaney suspected Dani of causing all the recent trouble.  She said, “So far Dani hasn’t done anything that warranted calling the police, but Ms. Sweaney won’t hesitate to call them if she does.  I’ve never seen her this angry.  Tell Dani to be careful.” 

I imagined the worst that whole day at school, Dani
in a jail cell and me all alone.  I wanted to give her the warning at dinner that night, but Ms. Sweaney was stalking us like prey waiting for an opportunity to strike.  Fear for Dani kept me awake until she joined me in bed.  I waited for her to settle in next to me and whispered, “Mrs. Jones wants me to tell you that Ms. Sweaney knows it’s you doing the pranks.  Ms. Sweaney’s mad and out to get you.“

“Pranks.
  What pranks?”

“I might be
younger than you, but I’m not stupid, Dani."  I didn't try hiding my tears or my shaky voice.  "Ms. Sweaney has never liked us and I’m afraid of what might happen if you get caught.” 

“Fine.
  I’ll play nice for a while, but you have to agree it’s been fun watching that witch suffer.  And have you seen how the other girls look at me now?  They love me.”

She was right.  All the girls were in awe of her.  It was like she was royalty.  Because I was her little sister, I got the same treatment.
It was easy to forget that only a couple of months ago Lisa had threatened to beat my brains in, because now she oozed with kindness.  She obviously idolized Dani and maneuvered to get to my sister by befriending me, and she wasn’t the only one.  This wasn’t anything I hadn’t seen before, but this was the first time I had to live with her devoted followers and stomach their worship all the time.  As long as I was feeling the benefits, I didn’t complain.

Even though the pranks stopped, Ms. Sweaney was
paranoid.  She spent all of her time hunting the halls for suspects, looking for clues, and counting heads. And as her eyes receded further into their sockets, the red puffy rings that grew counted her sleepless nights like the circles of a tree shows its age.   More rules were introduced regarding where we could be and when we could be there.  We had to ask permission and have an adult escort us to the bathroom at unscheduled times.  An extra night supervisor was hired.  And twice in the middle of the night the doors were flung open while in pursuit of outlaws. 

Dani still slip
ped into to bed with me, and when I asked her how she was getting away with it, she answered without concern, “It’s taken care of.”  I wondered how long things could continue like this before Ms. Sweaney went berserk and/or Dani was caught.

In a cruel twist
, I got caught first. 

Ms. Sweaney had switched up her morning routine in hopes of catching the villain unaware.  Instead, she happened upon
me, Jenny, Karen, Amy, and Kimmy on our regular morning visit with Mrs. Jones.

“What’s this?” she asked
with an evil smirk that clearly showed her excitement at finding us.  

Mrs. Jones' hands made fists as she stepped between us and the director.
“I was running an errand when I saw them on their way out and wanted to wish the girls a good morning.”  She nudged us toward the door and away from Ms. Sweaney. “Go on, girls, hurry along and have a good day at school.”

“
Just one more minute, please.  It seems odd that all of you would be this far from the front entrance, if in fact you were headed that way.  Kimberly, tell me, did you take a wrong turn this morning while headed out for school?”

Without the slightest idea that Ms. Sweaney had just set us up, Kimmy confided, “Oh, no Ms. Sweaney, we come this way every morning to hug Mrs. Jones.  We’re not lost.”

Ms. Sweaney’s cold smile grew as she thanked Kimmy and sent us on our way.   We only went as far as the next corner so we could hear, but not be seen, as Ms. Sweaney confronted Mrs. Jones. “I have told you time and time again to stop coddling these girls.  They don’t need your affection.  They need structure and discipline."

“But they’re only
little girls," Mrs. Jones argued.  "I was trying...”

“I
realize that the last director gave you the freedom to play grandmother to these children."  Her already strained voice rose to a shout.  "It infuriated me then, and it infuriates me now.  You are nothing to them, and they are nothing to you.  You’ll do things my way or you’re fired.  This nonsense stops today!  Have I made myself clear?” 

We'd heard enough and dragged ourselves
off to school.  None of us wanted to be responsible for getting Mrs. Jones in any more trouble.  We all knew we’d received our last hugs from her.  But we didn’t know that our actions would cause such a disastrous chain reaction.

Kimmy cried the entire walk to school.  A smile from Kimmy could warm a person straight through, and I learned that day that her cry had the opposite effect.  I didn’t know how to make her feel better, when I felt just as awful.  I couldn’t be mad at her for telling Ms. Sweaney the truth.  If she had called on me, I probably wouldn’t have been able to
lie our way out of that situation either.  Moping through the day, we didn’t even try to shield ourselves from the shower of spit wads that greeted us.  We spoke little during recess or lunch.  None of us seemed to have the strength to pretend that everything was okay.  Each of us felt the loss.

By dinner time, word had spread that we had gotten Mrs. Jones in trouble, and we were met with angry glares.  My royal status wasn’t helping me any this time.  Apparently, Mrs. Jones was important to all the girls, and I wondered if others went on secret missions
to spend time with her too.  We’d ruined things for everyone.  I told Dani the whole story under my breath while Ms. Sweaney hovered, and she promised to help smooth things over for us. 

Later in the activity roo
m, we studied our spelling words and skimmed magazines, but gloominess blurred our concentration.  Even in Ms. Sweaney's absence, no one perked up.  Time passed slowly like it always does when playing the waiting game.  Right before we were called to get ready for bed, Ms. Sweaney entered with Johnny and the new night watchman. 

She walked to the front of the room
, braced her spine, and announced, “Girls!  Girls!   Listen up!  I need your attention, please!"  She waited for quiet, scowling at the last group to obey.  "I have a situation that concerns everyone.  As you are all aware, we have a menace living among us who has chosen to create chaos where there should be strict adherence to rules and discipline.  Although I have been unable to catch the individual responsible for all the mischief of the last couple of months, I did catch several girls harassing our secretary, Mrs. Jones, this morning.  I have decided to publicly punish their ring leader, Lillian Simmons, to illustrate to all the consequences of disregarding the rules.”