The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove (19 page)

wouldn’t give it to you free. You’d have to let me make you up to get it.”

“All right.”

Forty minutes later she had slathered purple eye shadow on my lids, caked

my lashes with mascara, and painted on cherry-red lips, while Agnes howled with

laughter.

I looked in the mirror and said, “This is much too special for daytime use.

I’ll wash it off.”

“Very tactful, Jane,” Mary Violet said and handed me a small shiny black

paper bag filled with lipsticks, glosses, mascara, blush, and perfume samples.

After I scrubbed my face and got my things together, including the painting,

Mary Violet asked, “What are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing. Studying.”

“I have to go to my grand-aunt’s house. It’s a family party. My grand-aunt

is a cheek-pincher and she always calls me Marie-Violette because she pretends

we’re French. If you get bored, call me and I’ll say I’m sick and leave early and

then we can hang out. Maybe I can convince you to let me put an arch in those

eyebrows.”

“If I said yes, I know I’d end up with no eyebrows at all.”

“No one trusts me,” Mary Violet said. She looked at the package I was

holding and said, “My mom must really think you’re on her spiritual wavelength

to give a painting away. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or if you should be

worried about your mental health.”

I laughed and said, “Thanks for everything, MJ. I’ll see you Monday.”

Although the painting was big, it was light, and I carried it back to my cottage

before walking down the hill into town.

I stopped in at the market to buy groceries, but I didn’t see Orneta. When I

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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta

paid, I asked the man working the register, “Can you tell me when Orneta’s shift

is?”

“She’s no longer working for us. She quit. Thanks for shopping with us!”

As I walked to the bank with my groceries, I thought it was odd that Orneta

had quit when she’d said it was a good job. I went to the ATM and checked my

balance, and then withdrew some of my tutoring money.

After taking the shuttle back to campus, I put away my groceries and

stashed my cash in my hiding place. The envelope of crisp bills made me feel

safer; I would keep saving until I had enough to take care of me in an emergency.

Then I unwrapped Mrs. Heyer’s painting. I ran my fingers over the rough

and smooth surfaces of the paint, which felt like white and black bark of a birch.

It was as if I had a piece of the grove inside now.

I had never owned something so wonderful and I leaned it atop the fireplace

mantle, so I could see it all the time.

I tried on my new makeup with a much lighter hand than Mary Violet had

used, and was happy to see that I looked more my age and less like a kid. It

didn’t transform me into a beauty, but it kept me from fading completely into the

background, where I’d always hidden before.

I spread out my books and began to do my homework. In the late

afternoon, I went outside to stretch. The trees’ long shadows made it seem later

than it was. Then I heard someone calling my name.

“Jane! You home?” Lucky was coming down the path.

“Hi!” My heart leapt, and I yanked the rubber band from my hair and

shook it out. “Did you want to change our lesson? Or cancel? You could have

called.” Feelings of hope and disappointment tangled inside me.

Lucky stepped onto the porch and his height made me feel much smaller.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No, I thought…”

“I had to get out of the house. Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

He sat on the sofa and tilted of his head, indicating that I should sit beside

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him. When I did, he turned toward me and asked, “Do you want to know

something about me, Jane? I don’t have any friends.” He said it dramatically, as

if expecting me to console him and stared into my eyes.

“Lucky, you talked about all the friends you supposedly don’t have when I

went to your house for dinner.”

He laughed and said, “Okay, I have lots of friends, but not anyone close to

me, someone I can really talk to.”

“You have your brother”

“Brothers don’t count. They
have
to talk to you.”

I began to understand what Hattie meant when she said Lucky was spoiled.

“Do I need to point out how self-indulgent that it?”

“I mean, I’d like to talk to someone who likes me for
me
, not because I’m

on the baseball team or a Monroe or that my mother’s the headmistress. Money

doesn’t solve loneliness, Jane. It makes it harder for me to figure out who my real

friends are. Everyone here assumes they know exactly who I am, already. I want

a friend who doesn’t come with any ideas of how I’m supposed to act, or be.”

So he was here looking for a friend. Jane, the friend. I sighed. “I like you

for you, Lucky.”

“Maybe once you really know me, you won’t like me. Would you like me

no matter what?”

In the soft light of the lamps, I could see the honey shades of his hair and

the curve of his cheekbones. “Of course not. I wouldn’t like you if you were

stupid or rude, and I know you aren’t stupid and you’ve been nice to me.”

He edged closer to me, until our knees touched. “Jack says I’m selfish.

Yeah, maybe he’s right. Maybe I do use people sometimes. Maybe they don’t

mind. Would you mind?”

Pretty girls got used for sex and rich girls got used for money, and I was

neither pretty nor rich. “You’re not using me Lucky. I’m getting really well paid

for tutoring you.”

“What I mean is,” he began and then we both heard the noise outside.

I’d left the front door open and now Jack strolled in, wearing his ragged

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shorts and an old t-shirt. “Hi, Jane. Lucky, I was looking all over for you.”

“You found me,” Lucky said and eased away from me on the sofa.

Jack said to him, “You’ve gotta go. Dad wants to talk to you.”

“He’ll see me later,” Lucky said.

“He said
now
.”

Lucky stood up, looking annoyed and went to the door and said, “Aren’t

you coming?” to his brother.

“Dad wants
you
, not me.”

“Whatever,” Lucky snapped. “See you tomorrow, Jane.”

I went outside with Lucky and watched until he walked around a turn in the

path that took him out of my view.

When I went back in the cottage, Jack was sitting in the armchair with his

feet on the coffee table.

“Get your feet off the furniture,” I said.

“Ooh, snappish,” he said and swung his tan legs down.

“I didn’t ask you to stay.”

“Do you have other plans?”

“No,” I said before I thought to lie.

“How’ve you been?”

I sat on the sofa. I was sure that Lucky was about to share something

important with me when Jack crashed in. “If you thought Lucky might be here,

you could have called.”

“This is more neighborly,” he said. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“All you ever have is questions. I’ve been fine.”

Loking at the mantle, he said, “Is that one of Mrs. Heyer’s paintings?”

“She gave it to me. It’s the birches.”

“It’s beautiful, but I love the trees,” he said. “She’s kind of famous and

that’s probably valuable so take care of it.”

“I’ll take care of it because I love it.”

“That’s an even better reason.” He picked up my Latin book from the table

and flipped it open. “
Nihil bonī mihi hīc invenīrī potest
,” he said slowly. “How

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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta

was that?”

“Terrible. You’re supposed to pronounce the v’s like w’s.”

“Vhy?” he asked with a smirk.

“Because that’s how it is.”

“Vhat does it mean?” He repeated the sentence again.

I translated the words in my head. “Nothing good can be found here in my

opinion.”

He gave a sharp laugh and said, “That sounds about right. That should be

the Birch Grove motto.” He repeated the sentence as if memorizing it. He

slapped the book down on the table. “Why Latin instead of a living language?”

“It will help with science studies, and I like it,” I said. “It’s specific – the

declensions break things down into gender, number, tense, mood. English is too

ambiguous and you’re always guessing what people really mean.”

“Do you think everyone should say exactly what they mean?”

I stared at him and said, “I wish
you
would. You might consider taking up

Latin.”

Jack grinned. “Maybe I will. Everyone at school treating you all right?”

“Yes.”

“Because these schools can be a bit, you know, elitist and controlling.

That’s why I decided to go somewhere else.”

“Your mother said you went to public school for the music program.”

“That, too, and girls, of course.”

As he sat there, I studied him and his out of control curls.

“Do you approve of what you see?” he said.

“Your hair looks like you stuck it in a blender.”

He shrugged. “That’s another reason I couldn’t go to Evergreen Prep – my

hair is too messy. Do you think I’m better looking than my brother?”

“If you’re fishing for flattery, you’ve come to the wrong person. No,

Lucky’s better looking.”

“You could at least pretend. You could have said that I was good looking

in my own special way, like a snowflake.”

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“You’re not a snowflake, and it’s obvious that Lucky is really goodlooking.”

“Yeah, that’s what the mirror tells me, too. Even my girlfriend tells me

that, quite frequently, in fact. Appearances are so important. And Lucky’s nicer

than me, right, halfling?”

“He has better manners. He doesn’t call me ridiculous names.” When Jack

talked to me I felt wide awake, as if I had to be completely alert to follow the

twists in his conversation, and the truth was that I didn’t mind feeling this way.

“You brought the pizza.”

“It was the neighborly thing to do, like this. A visit to chat. You could chat

more.”

“I think we’re allotted a limited quota of words in our lifetime and you’re

using all of mine up.”

“I’m just borrowing them since you’re letting them pile up,” he said with

wide grin. “You’re look like a fairy creature, yet you’re as silent and mysterious

as a sphinx. A sphinxling. Tell me something in your native woodland language.

Or, since ve’re svitching v’s and w’s, voodland.”

“Jack, are you trying to be funny, or annoying? Because I can’t tell.”

He sighed and said, “One day I’ll learn the magic words to win your trust.

They may even be in Latin, although I think your tongue predates human history.”

Then he stood up. “Guess I’ll go and get ready for my date. I’m taking Hattie out

tonight. She’s gorgeous, don’t you think? She’s as gorgeous as Lucky is

handsome.”

“What’s important to me is that she’s friendly and not stuck-up.”

“Her family goes back generations with Birch Grove. She’s really

exceptional. Not many girls are gorgeous
and
smart a
nd
talented
and
her family

has truckloads of money. Have you heard her play the piano? Like an angel, and

she speaks French like Marcel Marceau. She draws extremely well.”

He seemed more intent on taunting me than praising her, so I said, “You

wouldn’t want to be late then.” I stood and walked him to the door.

“Don’t I get a goodbye hug?” he asked as he stood on the porch.

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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta

He was still grinning and I suddenly saw why Hattie would think he was

attractive with his leaf-green eyes and wide mouth that was always curling up in a

smile, tan muscled arms, and his scent of fresh green things and the grove.

He said, “A hug is the neighborly thing to do.”

“I come from a different neighborhood,” I said and I shut the door on him.

Then I leaned against the door and wondered what had happened. Why did

everything the Monroe brothers say seem to have another meaning? Why

couldn’t they speak directly?

I sat down and opened a composition book. I ran a line vertically down the

page. On one side I wrote down everything I’d remembered Lucky telling me.

On the other side, I wrote possible interpretations. Why had Lucky asked if I

mind if he used me? People who used people didn’t ask permission.

I didn’t have enough data, so I added all the things Jack had said, too. His

nonsense only made me more bewildered.

I wasn’t comfortable leaving such private information where one of my

friends could find it. I hid the notebook behind the washer/dryer with my cash.

On Sunday afternoon, I filed my short nails until the edges were even. I

carefully stroked on the clear pink nail polish. Some smeared on my cuticles, and

I had to start over again. When the nail polish dried, I got dressed in my best

jeans and a white cami under a purple sweater.

I dabbed concealer on a red spot on my chin that had erupted overnight. I

stroked on a light coat of mascara, brushed on a little blush, and slicked on lip

gloss. My hair looked a little fuller and healthier since Mary Violet had trimmed