Eleanor (20 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

T
he next week, Mrs. Hart was a reincarnation of her old self. She made a point of ignoring Eleanor, not even looking at her in two hours of lecture. When English essays were handed back, Eleanor saw she'd scored an A. It had been a C; she could see where the teacher had erased the previous grade for the one she thought she deserved. Eleanor sat back and enjoyed her renewed anonymity and did nothing to upset the teacher. Though Tabitha had momentarily quelled the problem, Eleanor knew it was not gone.

Tabitha tried to explain to her that Mrs. Hart had transferred her own guilt into Eleanor. She hated herself by hating Eleanor. She wasn't so sure about the diagnosis, but Tabitha knew something about psychology, so she didn't dismiss it. Eleanor saw the link between her knowing about the affair and the bad treatment, but she thought it was more mercenary than psychological. She thought Mrs. Hart wanted to discredit her now, so if Eleanor said anything later, no one would believe her. It all came down to the same thing, and for the moment, at least, she was leaving Eleanor alone. Tabitha had prevailed.

On Wednesday, the lunch was beef stew. It was one of the school's favorites and lauded as the kitchen's signature dish because it was “homemade from scratch.” Eleanor never trusted it. She knew they used low grade ingredients and added pepper to cover it up. Eleanor smelled the pepper and onions and then, with a start, caught the acrid whiff of sickness. The meat had gone bad. She could detect the stench of rot and wondered why it didn't go away. All through morning classes, she traced the odor of the spoiled meat being cooked in heavy spices and then added to a pot of leeks and cabbage which were also suspect.

Before chemistry, she went to the lunchroom. She let herself in the kitchen and wandered over to the pot where the stew simmered. She lifted the heavy lid and smelled. She had to cover her nose for the fetor. She was surprised none of the cooks had noticed it. The place was bustling with half a dozen helpers, but no one had noticed it, or Eleanor for that matter. It was only when she dropped the lid on the floor trying to replace it on the pot that she drew anyone's attention.

“What are you doing here, child?” Miss Church demanded. She had been in charge of the kitchen for as long as Eleanor had been there. Eleanor couldn't remember ever seeing her without a hair net, even in the parking lot after school. She wore it home.

“Miss Church,” Eleanor said softly. “The lunch smells bad.”

“What are you on about, child?” she demanded.

“The stew. I think it's bad.”

“Then you don't have to eat it,” she said. “Go back to class.”

“Miss Church, the meat is rotten. The food is spoiled. Don't serve it.”

The lunch lady took a hard look at Eleanor. “I know you,” she said. “You're the girl who takes her clothes off at dances. I've heard about you.” The words came out surly and mean and silenced the other workers.

“You stay out of here,” she said. “You've got no business being here. You'll spread disease. It's against health code rules. You want to be suspended?”

“No, Miss Church,” she said trying to look her in the eye. “You can't serve the stew. It's bad.”

“Out or I'll call Mr. Curtz,” she said pointing to the door.

Eleanor looked for support from the other cooks, but seeing none, she turned and left. Outside the kitchen, she flopped her back against the brick wall and slid down to the floor. She sat there a while thinking. She listened to the staff talking in the kitchen.

“What was that about, Betty?” someone asked.

“She doesn't like the stew,” Miss Church said. “Wants me to change the recipe I guess.”

“No, it's perfect.”

“I think so, too.”

Eleanor got up and went to class wondering why she'd even tried. She needed to mind her own business. How could she explain how she'd known the meat was bad from halfway across the school? It was better she hadn't been believed.

At lunch, Eleanor bought a bag of chips and a coke from a machine. It wasn't much of a meal, but she'd have nothing from that kitchen today. She sat at her table watching students line up for hearty portions of stew and mounds of buttered bread.

Then she saw David carrying his tray. Coming out of the line, he glanced at Eleanor the way he did every day, silently asking permission to approach. Eleanor automatically looked away and David wandered over to his other friends and sat down.

Suddenly Eleanor sprang to her feet knocking her can of Coke over on the table. She ignored it and hurried to where David sat.

“Eleanor,” David said warmly. “Hi. Sit down.” He kicked a chair out for her. She looked at it but shook her head.

“I won't stay,” she said. “Don't eat the stew. That's what I came to say. Don't eat the stew. It's bad. It's poisonous.”

Brian smelled his lunch, as did Aubrey, Robby, and Barbara Pennon.

“Smells fine to me,” Barbara said. She'd made a habit of sitting with David at least once a week. She bounced around the lunchroom with regular visits like traveling royalty. Today was David's turn. Today, she had her groupies, Crystal and Alexi, with her. The table was crowded.

“Then you go ahead and eat it,” Eleanor said to Barbara before she could stop herself. “But David, you don't, okay? It's bad. Promise me. Promise me you won't touch it,” she said.

Without hesitation, David said, “I promise.”

Robby dropped his spoon, too. “I'm not touching it either,” he said but kept a suspicious eye on Eleanor.

“Thanks,” she said and turned to leave.

“Eleanor,” David said, getting up and following her. Eleanor didn't stop, but neither did David. He caught her at her table and immediately set to cleaning up her spilled soda.

“Eleanor,” he said.

“What?” she said.

“I miss you,” he said.

Eleanor looked into his face and saw it change from forlorn to hopeful when their eyes met. “Can we please be friends again?”

“We've always been friends,” she said. “That's why I can't see you.”

“Let me make that decision,” he said.

“You don't know enough to make a good one.”

“Eleanor, let me make it up to you.”

“You haven't done anything,” she said.

“I'll make it up anyway, whoever did it. I can do that. Whatever is missing, I'll replace. Whatever was broken, I can mend. Whatever was done, I can forgive. Let me, Eleanor. Please.”

“You've been practicing that,” she said unable to stifle a grin.

“Yes, I have,” he said proudly.

Eleanor looked back at the table. Barbara had convinced her friends Eleanor was crazy and spooned huge spoonfuls of stew into her mouth and shot dirty looks at Eleanor.

“Your friends miss you,” said Eleanor.

“They'll survive.”

“Maybe not,” she said, watching them eat.

“What do you say? Can I come by? Play some three-handed Cribbage?”

“I'll think about it,” she said.

“Okay,” he said. “This is progress. I'm good with that.”

“I thought Aubrey was smarter than that,” Eleanor said. David looked back at his table. She dipped bread into her bowl and ate it.

“I'll go convince them,” he said. “I'll see you later.” He walked back to his table like a man cured of gout. He took Aubrey's bowl right off her tray and together with his, dumped it all in a trash can.

The school was closed for a week. Eighty percent of the student body and ninety percent of the faculty were out with severe food poisoning. News crews descended onto the little town, tainting its wholesome summer vacation image under the headline “Worst School Food Poisoning Incident in History.” The headline was misleading. They'd come to that conclusion by virtue of the percentages of students who got sick, but the school was so small it gave a false impression. Not that anyone noticed.

The town went crazy. Soon rumors were rampant, allegations were tossed around about suppliers, cooks, students, and faculty incompetence. Finally, a policeman arrived at Eleanor's door. Tabitha opened it.

“Hello, ma'am. I'm Sheriff Hannon,” he said.

“I know,” Tabitha said cautiously. “I voted for you.”

“Thank you,” he said, a little embarrassed. “Is it alright that Eleanor come with me to the school?” he asked. “We're taking statements about the food poisoning.”

“Is she in trouble?”

“No, ma'am. We just want to talk to her.”

“Then I'm coming along, too,” she said. “Wait one minute, won't you?” She closed the door before he could respond.

When Eleanor and Tabitha came out of the house, David was talking to the sheriff.

“Hello, David,” Tabitha said. “What are you doing here?”

“It's such a beautiful day, Mrs. Anders. I thought I'd invite Eleanor to the park.”

“I can't,” Eleanor said quickly.

“Yes, I see that,” David said and got into the back of the police car.

When Sheriff Hannon did nothing to stop him, Eleanor slipped in beside him and Tabitha took the front seat.

The school was surrounded by twenty-four-hour news vehicles.

“Another slow news day,” commented the Sheriff sarcastically. “You'd think they'd have something better to do.”

“We're not going to be filmed are we?” asked Tabitha.

“No. Those vultures won't see you. We'll go in the back.”

True to his word, Sheriff Hannon drove to the back of the school, past a cordon, and then escorted them into the gymnasium through a side door. Inside was a long table where half a dozen people sat, including Mr. Curtz and Miss Church.

They were placed in chairs facing the table. The sheriff joined the other officials. He whispered to a politician Eleanor thought she recognized in a tailored blue suit and strong exotic cologne.

“Hello, Mrs. Anders, Eleanor, and, David Venn is it? I'm Hank Gomez, from the State Division of Health and Public Safety. We're investigating the incident at Jamesford High last week. This is Mr. Poulson, Homeland Security, and his deputy, Miss Lamb. You already know the sheriff, Mr. Curtz, and Miss Church.”

Tabitha nodded. Mr. Curtz wouldn't look at her.

“Eleanor, what happened Wednesday last week? We understand you were in the kitchen before lunch.”

“Poisoning the stew,” shrieked Miss Church. “Terrorism.”

“Miss Church,” chided Mr. Gomez. “Please.”

There was no mistaking the panic in Miss Church's voice. She had removed her hairnet for a professionally done hair style. Her clothes were new and her makeup was startling. Eleanor had never her seen her wear so much of it. Though she sat like a judge at the table, Eleanor couldn't help but think that she was the one on trial.

“I told Miss Church that I thought the stew smelled funny,” Eleanor said meekly.

“Did you put anything in the pot, Miss Anders,” Mr. Gomez said. “We have several eye witnesses saying you were tampering with it before Miss Church caught you.”

Tabitha snorted.

“I wasn't sure, so I took the lid off to smell it,” said Eleanor.

“You smelled bad meat in a pot of stew?” asked Miss Lamb. “You could smell it over the cayenne pepper?”

“A little, I guess,” Eleanor said to the floor. “I'd smelled it before it was in the pot. It was easier then.”

“Where were you when you smelled it the first time?” asked Mr. Gomez.

“In English class.”

“She has English first period,” said Mr. Curtz.

“And you smelled it then? Isn't your class far away from the kitchen?”

Eleanor looked at her mother. Tabitha was tense. She could sense her heartbeat racing, but she remained silent.

“I smelled it, too,” said David. “I have English with Eleanor. I smelled something wrong, but I didn't know what it was.”

The jury considered what David said for a moment.

“David, we understand that Eleanor found you at lunch and warned you not to eat the stew. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir,” he said.

“Why did you take the stew if you thought it was bad?”

“I wasn't sure.”

“But you were after Eleanor warned you?”

“Yes.”

“She never said it was dangerous,” broke in Miss Church. “She only said she didn't like it. She wanted me to change the recipe.”

“Is this true? Did you tell Miss Church you didn't like the stew? That she needed to change the recipe?”

“No, I told her the meat had gone bad,” said Eleanor desperately.

“Liar,” shrieked Miss Church. “She put something in the pot. I cooked that stew myself. It was fine until she broke into the kitchen. She has a reputation, you know.”

“Miss Church,” said Mr. Gomez. “Calm down.”

“I told her it was bad, and she told me to mind my own business,” said Eleanor.

“How do you explain that we have several witnesses saying that you claimed to have poisoned the stew?”

“I never said that,” Eleanor said.

“Miss Barbara Pennon said you did. And Miss Crystal Tate.”

“They misheard her,” said David. “I was there. She told everyone at our table that the stew was bad. She said it was poisonous, not that she had poisoned it. I think she was right, don't you?”

“Miss Pennon said she thinks it was deliberate,” said Mr. Poulson. “She thinks you have it in for the school. Were you being bullied?”

“I get along fine,” Eleanor said.

Tabitha had had enough. “Seriously, gentlemen and ladies. You're throwing around some pretty heavy allegations here. Terrorism? The papers say it was e-coli. You think my daughter has a jar of e-coli in her handbag? That's what you think happened? Maybe she's a witch. You've got a theory from a fifteen year old accusing another fifteen year old of terrorism and you're buying it? Shame on you. Shame.”