Child of Darkness

by V. C. Andrews

  He slipped off his shoes and socks and followed me down the hallway. I took him to the downstairs powder room first.

  "What a house! I thought ours was something special," he said, looking everywhere.

  "Go in there and take off your wet clothes," I said, pointing to the powder room. "I'll get you a robe to wear until I get them dry," I said.

  I hurried upstairs, fetched the thick terry-cloth robe off the hook in my bathroom, and hurried down. Then I tapped on the bathroom door and handed him the robe when he opened it, standing in his briefs only and smiling out at me. He handed me his wet clothes. He laughed at the look on my face and began to put on the robe.

  "Smells great," he said, sniffing.

  "I'll be down in the laundry room," I said, and started for it.

  After I put his clothes in to dry, I gathered up my schoolbooks and then found him standing in the hallway in his bare feet, looking through the den doorway at Wade's mother's portrait. Mrs. Cukor finally appeared, stepping out of the living room, where she had been polishing furniture. The sight of him stopped her cold.

  "Trevor," I called. "I'm sorry I forgot a pair of slippers. Come with me until your clothes dry."

  He looked at Mrs. Cukor, whose glare could send anyone running for company and safety, and then joined me at the foot of the stairs.

  "Who is that?" he whispered. "She was looking at me so hard, I felt her eyes bum into my face."

  "The housekeeper. She's a little strange," I offered, and led him up the stairway to my room.

  "Wow," he said, looking in on it. "This is really nice. I like your bed."

  I put my books on my desk and slipped out of my shoes. My hair was a little wet, but I hadn't gotten anywhere near as soaked as he had standing out in the rain by the call box, waiting for someone to open the gates. He walked around my room, looking at everything. Then he flopped on the bed, stretching out his arms and falling backward.

  "Comfy," he said.

  I stared at him. It occurred to me at that moment that I had never ever been alone in a room with a boy aside from a second or two in a classroom at public school.

  "What's wrong?" he said, sitting up and looking at me. "You look absolutely terrified."

  "I'm not terrified," I snapped back, gathering myself quickly. "I'm just--"

  "Nervous?" he teased.

  "Bashful?" he suggested, rising off the bed. "Don't tell me a pretty girl like you has never been in a room with a half-naked guy," he said.

  "I haven't," I confessed.

  He smiled and stepped up to me.

  "Why is it every girl wants every boy to think she's Miss Proper, innocent and pure, these days?" he asked, his face now inches from mine. "Is it because so few are?"

  He put his right hand on my waist. I didn't back away. I felt like I was under a spell, caught like a deer in the headlights, captured by Trevor's eyes, Trevor's inviting lips, his handsome smile and the promise of pleasure that lay just beneath.

  With his left hand, he undid the robe so it would open and then he pressed himself against me and kissed me, softly at first and then harder, pressing his building sex against my leg so that I felt the passion moving through his body and into mine the way electricity traveled. My head spun.

  "You are delicious," he whispered, and was about to kiss me again when we both heard the door thrust open and turned to see Ann standing there. Her hair looked soaked through, and her shoulders rose and fell with her heavy breathing. She had obviously run up the stairway. Her face was full of shock and surprise, her eyes wide, and her lips stretched back as her jaw fell open. She looked as if she was in the midst of a great scream.

  She brought her right hand to her heart as if she had to press down to keep it from pounding through her chest, and then she leaned against the doorjamb as if she was about to faint. Trevor quickly stepped away and closed the robe.

  "What . . . are you doing?" she managed between breaths.

  "Trevor took me home," I quickly blurted. "We waited and waited, and he offered to take me home. But he got soaked at the call box trying to get someone to open the gates, so we put his clothes in the drier, and . . ."

  She stepped forward as if she was going to charge at the both of us.

  Trevor was so embarrassed standing there in my robe, he turned away and looked down at the floor.

  "I was only fifteen minutes late, Celeste. I would have let the school know if I wasn't coming for you. I was frantic, and I got pretty wet myself running from the car into the school to look for you. Mrs. Brentwood was upset because no one came to ask her to call me. I do have a cell phone, you know. I could have been reached. She has my numbers to use in an emergency."

  "We didn't know what to do," I offered weakly. "I didn't mean to cause any problems. I'm sorry."

  Ami pulled herself together.

  "It looks like Trevor volunteered to do a little more than simply take you home," she said sharply. It was as if she had thrown darts at him, only some hit me as well. I felt the same pain. "I'd like you to march yourself downstairs, young man, and we'll ask Mrs. Cukor to get your clothing for you. I'm sure it's all dry enough."

  "Yes, ma'am," Trevor said obediently. "I didn't mean to cause any problems. I--"

  "No. Men never mean to cause any problems," Ami said. "But they do. Oh, how they do."

  Trevor looked at me with confusion. I could hear his thoughts. Is she for real?

  "Whatever," Trevor said, and walked toward the doorway. Ami stepped aside.

  "Go on. Mrs. Cukor is waiting for you," she advised him sternly.

  He looked back at me. -

  "I'm sorry, Trevor," I said. "Thank you."

  "Right. You're welcome," he said, and then left.

  Ami watched him go by, pulling herself back farther as if she was afraid he might touch her, and then she looked at me.

  "I'm so disappointed in you, Celeste, so very disappointed," she said, shaking her head.

  She stepped out and closed the door, leaving me trembling in a pool of embarrassment, confusion, frustration, and anger. I felt pulled in every direction, felt myself coming apart like a figure of clay.

  I would soon know how I would be put together again.

  11 Wishful Thoughts

  . I changed my clothes and was about to go downstairs to talk with Ami to see if I could calm things down when she returned to my room. Her whole demeanor was different. She wore a smile and looked relaxed, more like the Ami whom I had first met.

  "I'm sorry about all that," she began, waving her right hand behind her as she entered. She had a large shopping bag in her right hand and put it on my bed. I recognized the Ooh-La-La logo. "Just look at what I got you today," she said, and took out a pair of jeans. "They're low-rise. You don't have a pair, and I got you this short-sleeved button-up shirt to go with it." She held it up against herself. "See, it has these cute elastic-gathered puffed sleeves with a floral pattern. It's perfect with the jeans. And I thought you'd love this floral stone chain belt," she added, scooping it out of the bag. "All the girls your age are wearing them these days."

  "Thank you," I said. "I did see girls wearing jeans like that at school."

  She put it all aside and sat on the bed, folding her hands in her lap.

  "I didn't mean to sound so angry before, but I was so surprised to see him in your robe, and from what I saw, he was moving fast on you. Look how clever he was to get undressed that quickly and into your room."

  "It wasn't his idea. I thought he would catch cold in his wet clothing, Ami. I was the one who suggested we get them dry, and I couldn't think of anything else to give him to wear in the meantime than my robe. I certainly didn't want to give him one of Wade's. That's a very cold rain, and he did get soaked through and through."

  "Yes, of course. You did the right thing there. I know I shouldn't get angry at you. I know your intentions were pure and good, but I'm just afraid for you, Celeste. I know you've had nearly zero

  experience with boys."

&n
bsp; "How do you know how much experience I've really had?" I asked, slightly annoyed, even though it was true.

  "Oh, I can tell about a girl's experience. Believe me, it's not hard to separate the very experienced from the innocent babes these days," she said.

  Was I that obvious? I wondered. Was that what Trevor saw as well?

  "That's not the point, though," she said. "The point is, I have taken on a big responsibility, and I want to be sure I don't mess up. I should have known the boys would be after you at the starting gate, especially one like Trevor Foley."

  "He's very polite and very nice, Ami."

  She shook her head.

  "You can't go by that. If someone was a serial killer, would he walk around with an unshaven face, dirty clothes, knives or guns obvious? No. He would look like the boy next door and be polite and courteous and get you to come into his room, get you alone in your room, or whatever trap he had set."

  "Then how do you ever tell the bad from the good?"

  "That's the trick," she said, smiling. "That's the skill that comes with experience, and that's why I want you to move slowly, very slowly, Celeste. I'm not trying to stop you from having fun. Look," she said, nodding at the new clothes, "I've bought you the latest fashions according to my salesgirls just so you wouldn't be left out. Would I do all this if I didn't want you to be happy and enjoy yourself? Well, would I?"

  "No," I admitted. It would be like advertising to sell something and then not having it to sell. Why advertise?

  "No. Of course not. What I do want to do, however, is be sure you have the best preparation, the best training, so you won't be caught in any situations from which you can't gracefully exit, and most important, Celeste, so you don't fall into any mantraps and end up like so many young girls do these days. . running off to get an abortion.

  "That's right," she added quickly when I looked up at her. "You'd be shocked at who in that school has already gotten herself into big trouble. News like that gets around, especially in this community of jealous alley cats."

  She rose and began to pace in front of me like some teacher starting a lecture.

  "Now, I'm not stupid about it," she said. "It wasn't all that long ago that I was your age, and just as I said in front of that nun in your orphanage, I want to give you the benefit of my experience and provide some important guidance in these matters, guidance you would never get in that place. How can a nun lady tell you what it's like to have a man kiss you and touch you and promise you things as his hands move all over you?"

  I started to speak, but she had obviously been preparing to say all these things to me and wanted to get it over with quickly.

  "I know you think you're very smart, too bright to be fooled by any boys, but it's not your brain they're after, believe me. Unfortunately, your own body is not to be trusted. You don't know it at the moment, but you're probably your own worse enemy."

  "What? Why do you say that?"

  "You can't trust yourself, trust that you'll always do the right things. There are places on your body, erogenous zones or something. I forget what they call them. Places that when touched or kissed," she said, putting her hands over her breasts, "start to open the doors to your treasure, and if you don't put on the brakes, if you don't stop them before they go too far with you, you suddenly find yourself unable to shut the doors.

  "In fact," she said, leaning toward me and speaking almost in a whisper, "you find yourself just as willing and as eager to do what they want."

  Her eyes were wide, brilliant. She blinked and stepped back.

  "Of course, it feels wonderful at the time. Or at least that is what we're always told by men and women who've sunken low, but it doesn't feel wonderful each and every time!" she cried. "From the way men describe it, it almost doesn't matter whom they're with. They even say disgusting things like every woman is the same in the dark.

  "Worst of all, maybe, is if you did do it with someone you didn't love, you could be so

  disappointed that you would never enjoy it afterward. You might even become frigid or something," she said, looking away.

  "So you see," she continued, turning back to me after a moment, "I'm really concerned for you. I worry about you. All of my energy is spent on your behalf these days, and willingly so."

  "I know, Ami. I appreciate it."

  "Good," she said, smiling and then sitting beside me on the bed again. She took my hand into hers. "Good. Now then, I'm a realist, too, however. I know that no matter what I say, how much I teach you, how much you understand and promise, things happen."

  She thought a moment and then shook her head.

  "I can't imagine growing up and never being taught about these things. No wonder girls like you get into so much trouble. The first thing I want to do is get you started on birth control pills. I'll speak to my doctor about it first chance I get."

  "Birth control pills?"

  "I'm sure the nuns never even suggested it to you," she said, "but it's something you should do for your own protection, protection, as I say, against yourself, and to help me feel better and more at ease about you."

  I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and she saw it in my face.

  "Don't go thinking you're better than anyone else, Celeste. No matter how you were brought up or how you lived in the orphanage. I'm well aware of all the spiritual and psychic things you were exposed to and you supposedly inherited, but you've still got the same equipment every other girl your age has, and as I said, there are buttons men, boys, know to push. Sometimes, no matter what, we can't help ourselves. We can't stop! Think of the pills as a safety valve."

  She looked like she would simply burst into hysterical sobbing if I didn't agree.

  "Okay, Ami," I said. "I'll take them as a precaution, as you say."

  "Thank you. Thank you. I'll see about it." She folded her hands in her lap.

  "Now tell me, what did Trevor Foley say to get you to take him up to your room so fast? You've been in that school only two days. I'd say you're either overly ripe fruit or he's one helluva magician."

  She sat back anticipating some juicy story and description.

  "He didn't say anything to get me to do that. I just thought he would be embarrassed sitting down there in my robe."

  "No," she insisted, poking her finger in front of my face, "he made you feel he might be embarrassed. He put the idea into your head, whether you realize it or not, believe me. He probably planned it all from the moment he offered to take you home. Maybe even before."

  "I don't think so, Ami," I said softly. "Really, he was just being polite and helpful. It was raining hard, as I said, and you hadn't come, and I did wait. We thought if you were coming along, we might see you and stop."

  She shook her head.

  "It's my fault; it's my fault. I got too involved with what I was doing and didn't pay attention to the time. I won't let it happen again. I can't leave you out there vulnerable and alone in this . . . this jungle."

  I hated the way she made me sound so helpless, but I didn't argue with her.

  "What happened to your driving lesson?" she asked.

  "He canceled because of the weather. He said I wasn't prepared yet to drive in such a torrential downpour, which is what Trevor got caught in when he got out to push the call-box button," I emphasized.

  "Okay, okay, enough of that," she said, standing. Then she smiled. "One more surprise. I have a music teacher, Mr. LaRuffa, coming to begin your piano lessons. He'll be here at seven-thirty on Saturday."

  "Seven-thirty in the morning on Saturday?"

  "No, in the evening. I'd like to watch, and he's agreed to the day and time. You have nothing else to do," she added. "Right?" she asked, her eyes scrutinizing my face. It wasn't a question as much as an order.

  I thought about Trevor and his hope I could invite him over. With what had happened and with this, that idea was out the window. He might be gone as well, and I couldn't blame him.

  "You don't look happy about it, but when I men
tioned it before you were very excited. You said you always wanted to learn how to play the piano."

  "I'm happy about it. Yes. It has been something I've wanted to do for a long time. My mother used to play for us, and she could play well."

  "Oh? You remember that vividly, do you?"

  "Yes. Even the music. She played every night after our dinner. My brother and I would sit and listen."

  "Brother?"

  "I mean, my sister."

  She smiled. Why was it so important for her to correct me all the time? I thought.

  She took a deep breath and smiled.

  "Okay, wonderful. Now, let's keep all this business with Trevor Foley from Wade. He doesn't have to know. It will just make him nervous and turn him into a nagging nanny or something. Okay? Secrets, remember? The glue that binds two friends together is how they share and keep their secrets."

  "Both Mrs. Cukor and Mrs. McAlister saw Trevor here," I reminded her.

  "That's all right. They won't say anything. You don't last in this house if you gossip about anyone in it. They both know that." She patted me on the knee and got up. "I'll leave you to do your homework. I know how serious you are about all that. We're going to another special place for dinner this Friday night, too, so put that on your calendar. Wade won't be coming. He has some stupid pipe or bolt and nut convention to attend. How grown men can sit around and talk about fittings and new tools is beyond me, but men are another animal altogether, aren't they?"

  She walkedto the door, where she paused a moment and then turned.

  "I'm not saying Trevor Foley isn't a goodlooking boy or someone who doesn't come from a fine family, but he is a boy with raging hormones. It's the age. For women like us, beautiful and special, they are like bulls seeing red. It takes some grace and clever maneuvering to avoid getting gored, if you know what I mean? I'll see about those pills," she added, and then smiled. "OW she said, laughing and turning like a matador avoiding a charging bull. Then she left me staring after her in more wonder than ever.

  I envisioned Trevor standing before me just after he had kissed me, and in my secret heart of hearts, I wished I would need this pill. The very thought of it brought blood to my cheeks and heat to my neck, but despite the warnings and the horrors Ami had described, I couldn't help enjoying the fantasy. Maybe she was right about one thing. Maybe I, like any girl my age, could be my own worst enemy.