Orphans 04 Raven

by V. C. Andrews

  I went to the bed.

  "Lower 'em," he ordered.

  Sobbing harder, I reached under my skirt and lowered my panties. He pushed me forward and once again held me down as he whacked me six times with the belt.

  "You don't go to any boy's room alone," he said. "And stay away from that retard, hear?"

  I couldn't talk. I bit down on the blanket and waited. I felt him run his palm over my rear, and then I heard him march to the door and leave, closing it behind him. It took me a while to catch my breath and pull up my panties. I lay back in the bed and cursed him over and over, praying he would fall down the stairs and break his neck. I fantasized standing over his corpse, spitting on it, kicking it. I didn't think it was possible to hate anyone as much as I hated him.

  My door opened again, and I turned in terror. It was Jennifer. She stood there shaking her head.

  "Clarence Dunsen? You walked out on Jimmy Freer and went to Clarence Dunsen?"

  "No," I said.

  She smiled and shook her head. "Wait until everyone hears about this. If I were you, I would crawl under that bed and stay there," she advised, and walked away, laughing.

  I lay there, my body like an empty glass filling with red liquid hate. Nearly two hours later, I heard them all go upstairs to sleep. I waited a little longer, and then I went to the door, my hands clenched in fists, my chest so tight my heart had trouble beating. Quietly but determined, I marched up the stairs. It was dark and still. Uncle Reuben and Aunt Clara's door was shut, as were William's and Jennifer's. I could hear Jennifer talking softly on her telephone and then laughing.

  I opened the door, and she looked up from the floor where she was curled.

  "What do you want?" she demanded.

  "If you spread that story about me," I said, "I will tell your father what really happened the night of Missy's party."

  I closed the door and walked down the stairs, somehow forgetting and ignoring the pain from my belt beating.

  9 I'm Not Going to Take It

  Jennifer was so quiet the next morning, she made me nervous at breakfast. She wouldn't look at me, and if she did have to gaze my way, it was as if she was looking right through me. She looked tired, her eyes dark. I imagined she had been sleeping on my threat, and it had played like a pebble under the sheet, causing her to toss and turn, flitting through her nightmares.

  My hands fluttered around so that I nearly dropped a dish. Uncle Reuben was poised to pounce if I did. He kept looking at me with sparks in his eyes when I rattled cups and saucers. Jennifer kept her eyes down. Every once in a while, she would lift her chin, and I saw her puckered little prune mouth drawn up like a drawstring purse. She ate and gathered her things together with barely a syllable escaping from those tight lips.

  "Are you feeling all right, Jennifer?" Aunt Clara finally asked her. I wasn't the only one who noticed a marked difference in her behavior. Usually, she didn't shut up, blabbing like someone who loved the sound of her own voice and expected everyone else to adore it as well.

  Jennifer stabbed me with her nasty glare immediately after Aunt Clara's question. I half expected her to burst out with new accusations, revealing my threat. I braced myself in anticipation.

  "I'm fine," she said. "I'm just tired." "I hope you're not coming down with

  anything," Aunt Clara said.

  Uncle Reuben's eyebrows jerked upward as if pulled by strings. "Everyone's been healthy in this house up until now," he muttered.

  Did he really see me as some sort of walking, talking germ, a carrier of disease and illness, someone full of infection and decay?

  "Maybe you should stay home today," Aunt Clara suggested.

  "Oh, no," Jennifer said with a deep and painful sigh, "I have tests to take, and I just can't afford to miss any work."

  Please spare me, I wanted to say. Since when did she care one iota about her work? She either cheated or borrowed other people's homework, and if she could find a way to get out of a test, she wouldn't hesitate. Suddenly, poor Jennifer was going to be the martyr? Now I did think what I ate would come back up. I rose from the table, clearing off dirty dishes.

  Jennifer was out of the house ahead of me as usual. With the chores I had to complete--helping with the breakfast dishes, cleaning the table, organizing and fixing my little room--I nearly missed the bus. Aunt Clara hurried me along, and I charged out of the house, running down the sidewalk just as the last student boarded. As usual, there was an empty seat next to Clarence. He looked up timidly, and I smiled and sat beside him. Jennifer was in the rear with her friends.

  "I'm sor. . . . sorry about my. . . my . . . stepfa fa . . father," Clarence said. "He's a jerk."

  "It's all right, Clarence. Don't worry about it. I didn't think much of him," I said.

  "He's got a nas . . . nasty mind. He made a lot of jokes after," Clarence said.

  "Where's your real father?" I asked.

  He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he's in California. I can't hardly remem . . remem . . ber him anymore," he said sadly, and looked out the bus window.

  There was a slight drizzle, the drops flattening against the glass and then spreading out wider to form what looked like spiderwebs. Gray skies made the morning seem more dismal than usual. Everyone on the bus was subdued. The conversations were quiet, and there was little laughter. When I gazed back, I saw Jennifer glaring my way, holding her books and bouncing with the bus. Even her normally buoyant and noisy friends looked half asleep.

  The school became darker and darker inside as the clouds thickened outside. Some of the corridors weren't as well lit as others, and it felt as if I were moving through tunnels to get to my classes this particular morning. As the rain grew stronger and pounded in sheets against the school walls and windows, students grew sleepy. Even the teachers seemed to struggle with enthusiasm for the work.

  Just before lunch, however, the rain stopped, and a bit of sunshine broke through. It washed away the drowsiness, and voices grew louder. Students walked faster, teased and joked with each other.

  At lunchtime, Terri and I headed for the cafeteria, talking about an upcoming movie. I used to go to the movies once in a while when I lived with my mother, but now I didn't know when I would get to go again.

  Suddenly, we heard a burst of loud laughter from a corner of the corridor. At least a dozen or so boys were gathered ma huddle. When they turned, I saw that Jimmy was there. I stiffened instinctively, but as the boys continued to separate, I discovered they had been surrounding poor Clarence Dunsen. He looked terrified.

  "Here she . . . she . come . . . comes, Clarence," Jimmy said. "Why don't you tell her how much you la . . la . . love her," he shouted, and all the boys laughed.

  "Leave him alone," I ordered.

  "We're not bothering him. Clarence was just telling us about your rendezvous in his bedroom the other day," Jimmy said loudly enough for everyone around us to hear.

  "You bastard," I told him, which only made him and the boys laugh harder.

  I hurried into the cafeteria, Terri trailing quickly behind.

  "What's that all about?" she asked.

  "My cousin has been at it again," I said, fuming. I threw my books on the table and folded my arms.

  "Don't do anything violent," Terri advised. She nodded toward Mr. Wizenberg, who was watching me like a nervous rabbit. I searched for Jennifer and found her holding court at a table across the cafeteria. She looked so self-satisfied, I felt like ripping out her eyes.

  The boys erupted into the cafeteria behind Clarence, who tried to get to his usual table. They were chanting behind him

  "I la . . . la . . . la . . . love you, Ray . . . Ray . . . Raven."

  The whole cafeteria turned, and Clarence, who was bright red, dropped to his seat and stared down at the tabletop.

  "Quiet!" Mr. Wizenberg shouted. "I said quiet!"

  The boys stopped and spread out to their tables, laughing and congratulating themselves with pats on their backs Jimmy went to Jennifer, and they had
a good laugh together.

  "What's going on?" Tern asked.

  I told her what had happened, but I didn't say anything about telling Uncle Reuben about Jennifer and Brad. I couldn't get myself to fall to Jennifer's level. Maybe she had known that all the while. When she rose to go to the lunch line, I jumped up.

  Terri seized my forearm. "Careful," she warned. "You'll get suspended this time for sure."

  I nodded but charged forward. "You're a horrible person, Jennifer," I said, pushing my way behind her. "Don't you care who you hurt?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't tell anyone anything," she said, flipping her hair back. "Clarence bragged about you and him to a couple of his friends, and it got out."

  "That's a lie. You're such a liar." I stepped closer to her, and she backed away.

  "If you cause any more trouble, Daddy will put you in the street," she warned.

  "I'd rather be in the street. There's less dirt."

  A surge of panic ran through her eyes as she looked around to see if anyone was really listening to us.

  "Don't you dare say anything terrible about me or my family, Raven. Don't you dare," she said in a weak whisper.

  "You're so disgusting," I said, shaking my head. Some of the girls did pause to listen. I hesitated.

  "Don't worry," I said. "I won't get down in the mud with you."

  She smiled, crooked and mean.

  I left her and returned to my table, frustrated, raging, my anger simmering my blood into a rolling boil.

  "Easy," Terri said, putting her hand on my arm and nodding toward the rear. Mr. Wizenberg had come up right behind me. He rocked on his heels a moment with his hands behind his back, and then he glared a stern warning at me as he continued across the cafeteria.

  "Everyone thinks I'm the cause of trouble here," I moaned. "It's not fair."

  "She'll get hers," Terri predicted. "Someday?'

  For now, that had to be how I would leave it. I went to my classes after lunch, the rest of the day moving more quickly. I was relieved when the last bell rang and we headed for the buses to go home. This time, when I boarded the bus, I hesitated. I knew if I sat with Clarence, Jennifer and her friends would make more fun of him. It was for his benefit that I passed him by. He looked up at me with sad eyes. I tried to smile to indicate it was better I didn't sit next to him today. He seemed to understand, and I moved deeper into the bus, finding an empty seat. No one sat beside me.

  We started for home. At first, there was just the usual sound of chatter and hilarity, but suddenly, there was a shrill laugh I recognized as Jennifer's. I turned just as she and her friends began their chanting.

  "I la . . la . . la . . . love you, Ray . . . Ray . . Raven?'

  A sea of laughter swept over the bus. Everyone was smiling, and soon everyone was into the chant. The bus driver looked confused, a silly smile on her lips. She was a stout woman named Peggy Morris with hair chopped short about her ears. She wore flannel shirts and jeans and had the sleeves of her shirt rolled to the elbows. Despite her tough appearance, I always found her pleasant and friendly.

  I looked at Clarence. He slapped his hands over his ears and rocked in his seat.

  "Stop it!" I shouted, which only brought more laughter. "You idiots. Stop!"

  They chanted louder. I was hoping Peggy Morris would do something, but she was too involved with a car that was slowing and speeding erratically in front of us.

  Suddenly, Clarence shot up from his seat and screamed like a wounded animal. His voice reverberated through the bus, but instead of bringing the chanting to a halt, it drew more laughter and then louder chanting. Clarence covered his ears. I was yelling for them to stop, too. It all sounded like bedlam, like a bus filled with insane people. Peggy had just started to turn, slowing the bus down, when Clarence surprised everyone by deliberately smashing his fist against the window. The first slam brought the chanting to a halt. I could barely utter a sound, my throat choking up.

  "Clarence!," I managed, but he did it again, harder this time, and the glass shattered.

  He stood there, the blood streaming down the side of his arm. Girls screamed. Even some of the boys cried out. Peggy Morris jammed her foot on the brakes and pulled the bus to the side just as Clarence fell backward. She caught him before he rolled over the railing and onto the bus steps.

  Everyone grew deadly quiet. I made my way down the aisle. Peggy shouted for me to hand her the first aid kit, and I hurried to do so. She opened it and pressed a fistful of gauze against Clarence's hand and arm. Then she looked up at me.

  "Go out and get to a phone," she said. "Call for an ambulance. Quickly!"

  When she opened the door, I shot down the steps and into a convenience store on the corner. The man behind the counter called 911 for me, and I returned to the bus. Everyone remained subdued, even Jennifer. The driver did the best she could to stem the flow of blood. Clarence lay there with his eyes closed. What seemed like an hour but was only minutes passed before we heard the sound of an ambulance followed by a police car. Chatter began again as the paramedics boarded the bus quickly, heard what had happened, and tended to Clarence. Moments later, they were carrying him off the bus on a stretcher. As soon as he was placed in the ambulance, Peggy Morris returned and stood with her hands on her wide hips, glaring angrily at everyone, her face still pale from the shock and excitement.

  "I don't want to hear another peep," she said shakily. "Not another peep."

  She started up the bus, and we rode to our stops in funereal silence. My heart was thumping. I had a revolting nausea whirling in my stomach. When our stop appeared, I rose and walked slowly down the steps.

  "Thanks for your help," Peggy Morris said. I nodded and got off.

  As I started up the sidewalk, Jennifer whipped past me, pausing only to say, "You have only yourself to blame."

  It took every ounce of restraint to keep from rushing up behind her to seize the back of her hair and pull out every strand as I kicked and pummeled her sneering, ugly face. But I knew I could never sink to her level, no matter what. I would never be that evil.

  Uncle Reuben knew about Clarence before he came home that night. Clarence's stepfather had been called at work and had to rush over to the hospital. Uncle Reuben didn't know any of the details, but I saw from the way he looked at me when he asked questions that he assumed I had something to do with it.

  "What happened?" he began.

  "Clarence went nuts," Jennifer said.

  "Why?"

  "The kids were teasing him, and he went nuts. He's nuts anyway," she said.

  "What do you mean, they were teasing him? How were they teasing him?"

  "Making fun of his stuttering," she said.

  "That's all?" he followed, still eyeing me suspiciously.

  "I don't know, Daddy. I wasn't paying attention. Suddenly, he smashed his hand into the window. Now, isn't that nuts?" she cried.

  "How horrible," Aunt Clara said.

  "Was he bleeding?" William asked.

  "A lot. That's why they had to get the ambulance," Jennifer told him. William grimaced and looked to me.

  "Mighty strange how all these terrible things are suddenly happening," Uncle Reuben declared. Afterward, Jennifer had the nerve to come to tell me she had done me a favor. "I protected you," she said, "so don't go blaming me for anything."

  "How did you protect me?" I said, amazed at her boldness.

  "I didn't tell Daddy why Clarence was being teased. He'd be real mad then, so you just better be nice to me, or. . ."

  I shook my head. "I'd rather be nice to a rattlesnake," I told her. "You and Uncle Reuben deserve each other."

  "I'll tell him you said that," she threatened. "You want another beating?"

  "Leave me alone."

  "I need some of my blouses ironed, and I don't have the time," she said. "I'll send them down with William, and you better not damage them, or else."

  Later that evening, I heard Uncle Reuben tell Aunt Clara that
Clarence's stepfather had called. He said Clarence had to have twenty stitches and was being kept in the hospital for observation. He said he might even have to go to the psychiatric ward.

  "I don't know how yet," he concluded, "but I'm sure Raven had something to do with this."

  "Oh, Reuben, no. She wouldn't," Aunt Clara assured him.

  "I'll find out. Trouble, that's all she is, trouble just waiting to happen. Damn my sister. She should have been sterilized."

  What a horrible thing to say, I thought, but I did feel just terrible about Clarence. In a strange sort of way, I supposed I was responsible. If I hadn't let him talk me into showing me his basement room, the kids wouldn't have made up the chant. I bring disaster to everyone I touch, I thought. Uncle Reuben isn't so wrong.

  Clarence's self-inflicted wound and the entire event on the bus were the big topic of discussion at school the next day. The kids who had tormented him didn't feel any remorse. If anything, they behaved as if they had helped bring out his mental illness. Now he would be where he belonged . . in a nut house. They were so smug I couldn't stand it. Clarence did not return, and in my way of thinking, he was the one who was better off.

  Later that week, Clarence's stepfather somehow found out about the subject of the chanting and teasing, and he told Uncle Reuben. When he came home, armed with the knowledge, he wore a look of selfsatisfaction on his face. He proudly announced to Aunt Clara that I was indeed the cause of the trouble. For the time being, he seemed content being proven right. Aunt Clara retreated even more deeply into her shell, and Uncle Reuben's tyranny raged unchecked. He was what he wanted to be, king of his own home, supreme judge and jury, and we existed only for his pleasure and comfort.

  My chores were increased. I wasn't permitted to go anywhere with anyone on the weekends for at least a month. No after-school activities, parties, not even a trip to the shopping mall. Aunt Clara put up little or no argument. A cloud fell over the house, even more dark and oppressive than the ones that had preceded it.