we’d be busy until after five.”
“Come as late as you like. I’ve got papers to grade and I’ll be here for
hours.
“Should I come to your office?”
“I’ll be here in the lab,” he said.
When I returned to the chem lab a little after six p.m., Mr. Mason was
standing at the window staring out to the thick green trees beyond. He turned at
the sound of my footsteps.
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Over the weeks, I’d noticed that he looked neglected. His shirt was badly
ironed and his graying hair had grown shaggy. His favorite tweed jacket was
missing a leather button. His classroom lights were on late every night.
He put down a batch of papers on the ledge under the window and said,
“Do you have an article in this issue of the newspaper?”
“I wrote a piece on the scholarship program.”
“A
piece
, hmm?” He smiled. “My wife was a scholarship girl here, too.
She was an orphan and Birch Grove paid for her tuition and provided housing.
You probably heard that she passed away last year.”
“Yes, I’m sorry, Mr. Mason.”
“She came back to teach here because she was so grateful for all that Birch
Grove had done for her,” he said. “Birch Grove can give you so much, Jane.
Don’t underestimate the power and connections of this school.”
“No, sir,” I said, recalling the ease with which Mrs. Monroe’s attorney got
my emancipation. “Did Mrs. Mason live here in the cottage, too?”
“The groundskeeper lived in it in those days. No, Mrs. Mason was taken in
by Mrs. Monroe’s family. My wife and Mrs. Monroe were as close as sisters.
Well, that’s the wonder of Birch Grove. It’s like a family and it’s hard to leave,”
he said. “But I really wanted to know how everything’s going.”
Is Mrs. Monroe’s course working out?”
“Thanks for helping me transfer in. It’s much better than the other course,
and she’s a really good teacher.”
“But?” he said.
“But I still don’t see the use of analyzing some long dead writer’s fantasy.
It’s not chem.”
“I feel the same way,” he said. “Let’s not tell anyone though, because
people always think something’s wrong with you if you’d rather be in a lab than
reading a novel.”
I smiled with him and said, “Deal.”
“Good. If you’d like any assistance, either academically or emotionally, I
could set up with tutors or counselors.”
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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta
“It’s hard, but I’m keeping up.”
“Terrific. You’re my top student in Chemistry Honors, you know, so I’m
really glad you’re here.”
“Me, too,” I said, feeling really proud at his compliment.
He took a red pencil from his pocket and said, “I suppose we both better get
to our homework.”
“Yes, sir. Good night, Mr. Mason.”
“Good night, Jane.”
I was still savoring Mr. Mason’s praise as I went down the shadowy
stairwell. The building seemed like a different world when it was empty with
only a few low-wattage bulbs providing dim circles of light. My leather shoes
sounded too loud on the linoleum and I found myself walking softly.
As I turned a corner toward the lockers, I saw someone down the hall and
the little hairs on the back of my neck went up in warning that something was
wrong.
A big hulking girl wearing jeans and a black sweatshirt with the hood up
over her head was fiddling with a locker. I took two steps forward and saw that
she was by
my
locker.
“Hey!” I called.
She ducked her head so I couldn’t see her face and dashed off in the other
direction. I took off after her. She turned down the hall with the music practice
rooms.
Without thinking, I tore off after her, yelling, “Hey, you!” I wasn’t far
behind, yet when I rounded the corner, the hallway was shadowy and empty.
The hall dead-ended into an emergency exit door with a glowing red light.
If the girl had opened it, an alarm would have gone off. My heart was pounded
and every nerve was alert as I went up and down the hall, looking into the practice
rooms. Each was empty.
She
couldn’t
have disappeared, so I checked every room again.
The dim halls and her disappearance made me think for a moment that I’d
seen a ghost, but I stopped that thought as soon as I had it, because there was
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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta
always
a reason for something. She must have somehow gotten to the end of the
hall and out the emergency exit without setting it off. Which means that she knew
the access code for the emergency exit.
I rushed back to the other hallway. My locker was closed, but not locked.
When I opened it, I saw the manila envelope atop my pile of books.
Adrenaline still courses through me, making my hands tremble as I took
three slips of paper, each cut from a magazine headline, out of the envelope. One
said, “To Live.” The second said, “Things You
Must
Do.” The third said, “Get
Out.”
I crumpled the clippings into a ball and shoved them in my book bag. I left
the building and glanced back. The only lighted room was the chemistry lab. Mr.
Mason was still silhouetted against the front window, which didn’t have a view to
the emergency exit.
When I got to my cottage, I locked the door and called Hattie. I told her
exactly what had happened and she said, “Jane, this is awful!”
“Whoever she is was able to get my combination and the code to turn off
and reset the emergency alarm,” I said.
“Could it be someone who has work-study in the admin offices? They’ve
got all the locker combinations and maybe they’d know how to get past the
emergency exit. Are you sure you didn’t see what she looked like?”
“She kept her face down, and she was tall and stocky. It was too dark, and I
don’t have your night-vision.”
“I don’t know what to say, Jane.” she said. “Have you upset anyone, or has
anyone said anything to you?”
“Not that I know of. Catalina’s the only one who’s been a bitch, but I’m
sure it wasn’t her. She doesn’t give a damn about me.”
“I can’t believe you chased her.”
“Neither can I.” I realized that it was completely out of character for me to
go after someone. “I was just so mad because…because I love being here.”
“We
have
to tell Mrs. Monroe.”
“Whoever it was ran away, so she’s more scared of me than I am of her,” I
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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta
said. “If I complain it will make me seem like I’m the cause of the problem.”
“No it won’t, Jane. We’re supposed to report problems.”
I thought about the pros and cons of telling Mrs. Monroe. “No, whenever
adults get involved, they blow everything up bigger than it is.”
“I think you have to stop something that’s wrong.”
“It only matters if I make it matter. I probably shouldn’t have even told
you. Let’s drop it,” I said. “What should I wear to the party?”
“We’ll be wearing dresses. Do you have dress?”
“I have a skirt.”
“If you were close to my size, I’d lend you something. Let me talk to Mary
Violet. She’s got a genius for this sort of thing.”
“Don’t tell her about what happened. Don’t tell anyone. Promise.”
She sighed heavily. “All right. I promise, but I don’t agree at all. Promise
me that you’ll think about telling Mrs. Monroe.”
“Okay,” I said, but I knew I wouldn’t change my mind.
We said goodbye and Mary Violet called five minutes later. “Did you
know that my mother has a room like a museum where she keeps all our dresses?”
“Your clothes wouldn’t fit me, MV.”
“State the obvious, please! You’re about the same size as Agnes and she’s
got a pile of dresses that she won’t wear.”
“Really?” I said hopefully.
“Really. My mother and all the aunties keep buying them hoping she’ll be
more feminine, which is like, ugh, why do they need
her
to be feminine when
they’ve got me?” she said.
“Good point.”
“Come over tomorrow after school. We can get ready for the party
together. Constance is coming, but Hattie’s going out to dinner with Jacob first.
He’ll probably take her to that depressing old people restaurant in town.”
“If you think...”
“I don’t think. I
know
. The dresses are very pretty, which is why Agnes
won’t have anything to do with them.”
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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta
“You keep giving me things, MV.”
“I know – isn’t it fabulous? At last I can exert my influence over someone.
Until tomorrow, darling! ”
That was one problem solved, but I had a lot of other things to figure out. I
wrote down and dated the incident in my composition book. Then I smoothed out
the crumpled magazine clippings, placed them back in the white envelope and put
the envelope in the notebook.
I checked my doors and windows twice before I went to bed. I slept
fitfully. My thoughts jumped from the bitch who’d broken into my locker to the
party and seeing Lucky there. I was quite aware that he hadn’t mentioned it to
me, but I didn’t know if he assumed I was going, or didn’t care, or didn’t want me
there.
The next morning, I collected pennies and nickels, screws and nails from
the laundry room, paperclips and small metal objects. I put them in a glass jar and
screwed the top on. The jar rattled loudly when I shook it. I put the jar in my
book bag with the things I’d need for tonight.
As I joined the other girls heading into the main hall in their uniforms, I
looked for tall, solid girls. I remembered Mary Violet’s description of Bebe: a
big strong girl, like a female wrestler. Bebe was in Europe though.
I went to my locker and stacked my books high. When no one was looking,
I slipped the glass jar out of my tote and balanced it precariously on top of the
books. Holding the jar in place, I eased the locker door shut. If anyone opened it
normally, the jar would crash down and shatter.
I was jumpy and anxious as I took my seat in chem lab. Mary Violet came
into room grinning wildly. “JW, you will not believe the ensembles I’ve put
together for you to try on. I will transform you into a mini-diva.”
“MV, repeat after me,
Jane is not a Barbie doll
.”
“Jane is not blah, blah, blah,” she said. “Tragically, Mother told me I can’t
dress like a courtesan. Courtesan is French for high-class ho. They could discuss
politics and art and also had secret techniques that would make men insane with
desire and lust.” Mary Violet widened her big blue eyes and puffed out her pink
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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta
cheeks. “Can you imagine!”
Her words triggered an indistinct memory. My step-father looms over my
mother. Her arms are covering her face and she’s sobbing.
I’ve never remembered this before and I don’t know if it’s real or
something I’ve imagined.
I was about to tell MV not to wish for a man driven insane with lust when
Mr. Mason started class.
My locker was undisturbed that day. I left the glass jar balanced against the
locker door as I went to meet Mary Violet and Constance on the front steps of the
school.
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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta
“Attire should be modest and students should be well-groomed.
Undergarments should never be visible and, on free-dress days, students are
prohibited from wearing ‘tube tops,’ halter tops, or exposing midriffs. All
shirt straps must be at minimum two-inches in width.”
Birch Grove Student Handbook
CONSTANCE
, holding a suit bag, was talking to Mary Violet on the front steps
of the school.
“Hey, JW,” Mary Violet said as I went to them. “Constance is brutally
crushing my dreams.”
“I am not,” the other girl said. She adjusted the suit bag in her hand. “I’m
telling her to be realistic.”
“Oh, don’t go to Jane to back you up,” Mary Violet said. “She’s already
too, too realistic.”
We started walking together in the direction of Mary Violet’s house.
“I’m trying to be more fun,” I said. “I’m going to the party and wearing a
dress.”
Constance said to MV, “You should limit your fantasies to your Hello,
Kitty diary and your short stories.”
“That’s so unambitious. If you had been in charge of the space program,
we never would have put a man on the sun.”
“We haven’t…” Constance began and said, “What would you do without
me to make you funny?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mary Violet said and bumped
her hip against Constance’s.
We rounded the drive and my friends waved and called out to all the other
girls going home.
It wasn’t until we reached the Heyers’ street that Mary Violet said,
“Constance thinks that Lucky won’t ever fall in love with me. She thinks I’m too
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The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove – Marta Acosta
ugly and stupid.”
“I did
not
say that,” Constance said, narrowing her almond eyes. “I said