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Chapter two
Louise shuffled her feet under her desk, the scuffling sounds gave her something to concentrate on. Her teacher stood at the front of the room, droning on about something. Sighing quietly under her breath she leaned back in her chair, hoping beyond hope that her teacher wouldn't call on her. "Louise? Louise?" A ruler rapped against the top of her desk and Louise shot up in her seat. Laughter erupted around the room. A hot blush swept over her cheeks and Louise tried to concentrate as the older woman rattled off some questions in French. Louise felt trapped, "I... I don't.. understand." She sputtered out the protest and grew angry when a few of the girls pointed at her openly. She retreated into her own thoughts. Her father's driver had dropped her off that morning, handing her a few coins and a bag filled with something resembling lunch. From that moment she'd been utterly alone. Walking through the packed halls, she'd been jostled again and again. The language, which sounded so beautiful, began to grate on her ears as the tones changed, seeming to taunt her. A loud noise brought her back to reality. Her teacher handed her a paper and pointed at the door, "Le bureau... the OFFICE." Even her tone was less than solicitous. Louise grabbed her purse and stood. Her chair squeaked on the floor, sending the girls at the front into riotous giggles. Lowering her head to hide her blush Louise moved to the door. As she passed the last desk a hand reached out and stopped her. Louise looked down into a pair of friendly green eyes. "Hello." "Hello." The voice was musical, like softly ringing bells. "I'm Louise." She smiled and Louise returned the gesture, instantly feeling better, "I know." "LOUISE?" The loud reprimand shook Louise again, she turned away and was out the door before she realized that she didn't ask for her name. She moved down the hall and made herself a promise to ask. "Tomorrow." ******************** The boys were trying to adjust to life with each other... their rooms were in the catacombs under the club. A secret door in the back storeroom led to a stairway, cool and light starved. They had spent their first day cleaning up the club, makin' it ready to open. They carried out box after box and took turns sweeping out the back rooms. There were just enough rooms beneath the club for each of them and another stairway at the back, leading to the alley at the back of the building. Kid and James spent most of the day at each other's throats, Teaspoon had left Kid to organize the supply room and James was helping him. Well, James would have rather been somewhere else. Shuffling boxes around in a dusty room was not his idea of a challenging assignment and he told Kid exactly how he felt. "Don't you think I feel the same way? I joined the army to help fight a war, not stand here and listen to you gripe." His teeth ground together as he hefted a box onto a shelf, setting off a cloud of dust. Both boys sneezed, the violent fits making them laugh and doubling them over. A knock at the door turned their heads. Ike stood there, a questioning look on is face, "I think either you both have lost your sanity or I should change jobs." Kid stood and coughed into his hand, "No, just straitening up. How are you doing outside?" "They got us the best. A total of 10 bikes. All Indians from America, but we left a space in the shed for your Harley." Beaming at the young mechanic, he nodded, "Thanks, KT will like it." James finished dusting off his shirt and smacked Kid on the back, "You talk about your bike like it's your girl or something." Shaking his head, Kid turned back, "You wouldn't understand." A rakish smile was part of his answer, "You're right, there's nothing like a woman. No motorcycle can replace a living breathing woman under you when-" Ike's startled look was enough to stop him, "Sorry Ike, just tryin' to make my point." Ike waved at him, dismissing them both. He headed out and left the two alone in the storage room. Kid shoved Jimmy and shook his head, "You need to be more careful what you say." James balked at the warning tone of Kid's voice, "You need to stop worrying so much. Ike didn't take it too hard." "Still, one day you're gonna get yourself in trouble with that smart mouth of yours." "Well, I'll deal with it when it happens." Kid shoved another box into his hands and pointed to a shelf, "It may be too late by then." ********************* Louise waited in the hallway of her father's home. He was late coming home from the factory, but still she waited. She needed to talk to him about school, there had to be a solution. Louise had tried to study her assignments, but the school didn't have any English textbooks. She'd spread them out on the kitchen table and tried to get Mrs. Hedvige to help her, but the woman just became irate and swung some sort of wicked looking knife at her. Pacing the floors she listened to the alternating clunk and scuff as her patent leather mary janes marked off her steps, one foot on the carpet runner and the other on the hard wood floor. She swung her arms back and forth to ward off the chill that still hung in the air. Around the fifth time, she heard a distinct rip as thread gave way under the strain. Louise stopped and slumped over into a chair. She'd been growing like a weed the last two years and had been lookin' forward to a new dress or two. Her aunt had other plans, 'Like shipping me off to Paris.' Louise felt like a contortionist as she tried to feel how big the rip was. She cursed into the empty hallway, "Damn it!" The raglan seam had almost ripped clean through from one end to the other. The front door slammed open, "Hedvige? Mrs. Hedvige? Where is dinner? I shouldn't have to wait for it!" A human battle tank with white hair shoved Louise out of the way. She ordered the other servants around like her own private army. Henri dropped himself into a wing backed chair and called for his newspaper. Louise tried to get close enough to talk, but the steady stream of servants came between her and her father at each opportunity. Finally, she called out in the midst of the din, the china plates and silverware creating a cacophony of sound, "Father!" The flurry of activity stopped and all eyes turned to their Master, his ire at its height. "Everyone out!" Louise immediately regretted her timing, the cold look in her father’s eyes gave her pause. “Well?” He shoved a forkful off beef into his mouth, “Speak up. Don’t waste my time.” She sat down on the chair beside him, her plate untouched. “It’s about school.” She looked down, the silverware catching the light from the sputtering oil lamp on the table. “I don’t understand.” “You’re going.” “I told you I don’t understand, I never learned French-” “You want me to get you a tutor?” The tone was snide and unfeeling. Setting a hand on the table, she leaned forward, tryin’ to get his attention, “I don’t know -- I -- It-” “Look, get one of the servants to help you, I’ve got work to do tonight. I don’t have the time to worry about your little problems.” The knot in her stomach doubled in size, “But Daddy-” Henri cringed in his seat and Louise blanched in reaction, “I have work to do.” Quietly, Louise pushed her chair back and left the room. Later, in her bedroom, Louise pounded her fist into her pillow. “Why won’t he listen? Why won’t he help me?” Outside the window, the cold night had begun to fog over. The windows, splattered with old rain, colored white within minutes. Louise wiped at the windows and felt the moisture cool against her hand. “Why?” She flopped back down on the bed and kicked off her shoes. Leaving her ankle socks on, she curled up into a ball on the bed, homework forgotten for the moment. She thought of her friends back in St. Louis. All the kids at the Brown Derby. They’d been her life-line for so long, and now she was alone in a place where she couldn’t communicate, couldn’t make a connection. She wrapped her arms around herself, smoothing the worn rayon against her arms. The chill of the evening was lost on her. Louise fell asleep with tears still wet on her pillow and a deep gnawing hole in her heart.
Title Page The Storybook The Kidnation |