School of Charm

by Lisa Ann Scott

  Then Grandma looked at me. “Follow me.” I walked behind her down the hall. Grandma swung her hips when she walked and her pale blue dress made a swooshing sound.

  She stopped in front of a door and gave the knob a good shake. “Stay out of here. This room is off-limits.”

  I shrugged. “Okay.” What worse thing than dead animals could she be hiding in there?

  “Okay? Don’t you mean, ‘Yes, ma’am?’” Her big brown eyes blinked fast.

  My shoulders slumped. “Yes, ma’am.” I tried not to growl the words.

  She walked down the hall a few more steps and flung open a door. “I had to give up my sewing room for you, young lady.”

  I peeked in and saw a bed and a dresser. Two dead ducks stood on top, their beaks touching like they were kissing. A stuffed owl with glassy eyes stared at me from the bedside table. A hawk hung from the ceiling with its wings stretched out. There was a sewing machine on a table and boxes of old fabric and patterns were lined up against the wall. It didn’t seem like she was giving up her sewing room if all the stuff was still there.

  “Thank you, Grandma,” I said. But she didn’t know I said it in the voice I used when I didn’t really mean it, like when Billy did a handstand and asked if his legs were perfectly straight. They never were, of course.

  Grandma was still staring at me. “And change into fresh clothes for dinner. I won’t have ragamuffins at my table.”

  “Okay.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I was starting to think the stories Mama had told about Grandma during the car ride might be some of her true ones. Grandma sure seemed like the type of person who’d make turtle soup. She probably even enjoyed eating it too.

  Grandma went to help Mama unpack, and I got to work putting away the few things I’d brought. I’d sold most of my old toys at our garage sale. I was still real upset about selling my bike. Daddy had given me that red banana-seat bike when I was eight. It had tassels on the handles and a license plate with my name, Chip. Daddy had that plate made special for me.

  “We can’t keep all this stuff,” Mama had told me. “We’ll get you new things for our new home. We’re going to have a fresh start down there. You’re going to love it. You’ll see.”

  But Mama was wrong. Bringing me here was like setting a fish loose in the sky. As I stood in my room with the pink ruffled curtains and the shiny wood floor and all the glassy-eyed birds, my heart slipped out of place. It wasn’t home—not even if my books were lined up on the shelf and my clothes were hanging in the closet.

  Laughter rang out across the hall as Charlene chased Ruthie around her room. “Say ding-dong if you’re a southern belle, too, Ruthie-Roo.”

  “Ding-dong!” Ruthie cried. “Ding-dong!” The two of them were settling in already.

  I sank onto the bed, pulled down by a hurt as heavy as a big rock.

  I took a deep breath to keep the tears back and looked up at the ceiling. “I’ll like it here, right, Daddy?” I twisted my fingers in front of me. But Daddy wasn’t there to say, “Sure, kiddo. You’ll be fine.”

  My throat felt tight and my face was hot. How could I survive here without him? It was bad enough to move somewhere totally new, but without my daddy too? A few tears slipped out onto my cheek. I wiped them off and decided to do a test. I’d make a wish and see if Daddy was watching over me. I closed my eyes tight. “Daddy, I wish that you’d show me a sign that you’re listening. That I’m going to fit in down here somehow. ’Cause right now, my heart feels like a leftover puzzle piece with nowhere to go.”

  Now I just had to wait for my sign. But I wasn’t so good at waiting—not like I was at nagging.

  A timer went off downstairs, and Grandma and Mama bustled to the kitchen. “Charlene, Ruthie, Chip—time for dinner!” Mama called.

  I hopped down the stairs, and ran through the living room, stopping in front of two lit-up cabinets filled with fancy dolls. I couldn’t believe how many dolls Grandma had. I stopped counting after twenty and just studied them. Their bodies were made out of china, but they wore real clothes and had real-looking hair.

  Some were dressed in outfits from around the world, like the Dutch girl with wooden shoes and a Japanese girl with a kimono. They were lined up on glass shelves in two cabinets pushed up against the back wall. Lights shone down on them like they were beauty queens from different countries waiting to be called for their turns. I pressed my nose against the glass for a closer look and saw little eyelashes that had been painted on each doll. The dolls were all set in special poses or standing near an interesting prop, like the artist doll who stood next to an easel. What was a grown-up doing with so many dolls?

  “Girls, you’d better be dressed properly for dinner!” Grandma hollered.

  Rats. I dashed back to my room and put on fresh shorts and a shirt. What did she think? We were one of her dolls? She better not plan on putting me in a dress.

  GRANDMA’S TABLE WAS SET WITH FANCY PLATES AND glasses. We used plastic Tupperware cups back home, but Grandma’s looked like crystal. All her serving bowls matched the dishes too. And the napkins were cloth, not paper. I sat perched on the edge of the chair, afraid to touch anything, while I waited for the serving bowls to come my way.

  “Grandma Cooper, where did you get all those dolls out in the living room?” Charlene asked, taking the smallest piece of meat from the platter. “I’ve never seen such pretty dolls. And there’s so many of them.”

  “Those came directly from England,” Grandma said. “They’re hand-painted porcelain with real human hair and handmade dresses. No two are alike.”

  “Wow. They must be expensive,” Charlene said.

  Grandma nodded. “Very.”

  “Did you get those when you were little?” Ruthie asked. “I sure would love pretty dolls like them.” She stared into the living room like a dog pouting over a bone just out of reach.

  Grandma smiled. “No. Your grandfather bought one for me every year on my birthday and then each Christmas after we were married.”

  “They’re real nice,” I offered.

  Charlene took a sip of water and almost choked. “Chip, you don’t like dolls. Mama got you a doll when you were a baby and you chewed all the fingers off it.”

  Mama shook her head, smiling. “You never asked for another one.”

  I tucked my bottom lip under my front teeth. “That doesn’t mean anything. Those dolls, they’re nice, Grandma. Real nice.”

  Mama, Charlene, and Ruthie all looked at me.

  “What? They are,” I said, suddenly real keen to study the pattern of roses and vines on Grandma’s plates.

  “Thank you, Brenda,” Grandma said. “I like them too.”

  Everyone started chattering more about dolls and dresses, but I had nothing else to say, so I shoveled down the horrible okra Grandma had made for dinner as fast as I could and asked to be excused. I ran back to my room and stayed up there until the house was quiet and I got bored staring at the owl, waiting to see if I could catch it moving. I wrote Billy a letter telling him about the car ride down and the hawk I’d seen in West Virginia flying with a snake dangling from its talons. Billy would’ve loved that. I didn’t get any kind of sign from Daddy, so I went down to the patio. Maybe there’d be a sign out there.

  Mama and Charlene and Grandma were sitting in chairs, all huddled up together.

  “You’ve only had Charlene in six pageants?” Grandma asked. “We’ll have to get Ruthie started soon.”

  Worse than dolls. They were talking about pageants. I sat down in a chair and tried not to groan.

  Mama picked up Ruthie and she looped her arms around Mama’s neck and snuggled into her chest.

  “Don’t worry about Chip,” Charlene said, crossing her long, thin legs. “I’ve already told her she’s not pageant material. She needs to know so she won’t be embarrassed. I look out for her like that, Grandma.” She shrugged like she couldn’t help being the best big sister in the world, which was no
t true no matter how big she smiled when she said it.

  Grandma looked at me. I knew she was staring at the pale red birthmark splashed on my cheek. My angel’s kiss. That’s what Daddy always called it.

  I ignored Charlene and watched a toad hop across the bricks in the patio. I would’ve caught him if we weren’t at Grandma’s and on our best behavior. I sat on my twitching fingers to be sure. He was a nice big toad.

  “Miss Dogwood is five weeks away? Oh my, so much to do,” Mama said, fanning herself. But her cheeks glowed that pretty pink color like they used to before Daddy died.

  “We can do it,” Grandma said. “It’s just what we need. A pageant to keep us busy.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Mama sighed and dropped her head back. “It’s good to be back south. I just never felt right up north. It’s so darn cold, and everything’s so fast.”

  “Of course you didn’t like it. I told you to stay away from that Yankee.” Grandma spit the word out.

  “Mother …”

  “What did I expect, though? You never did listen to me,” Grandma said in a low voice.

  Mama’s mouth tightened. “Yes, well, you didn’t …” She glanced over at us.

  I looked back and forth from Mama to Grandma. There were more secret looks and words bouncing between them than a handful of Super Balls.

  Grandma patted the arms on her lawn chair. “This is where you belong, Cecelia. Charlene too. The next Miss Dogwood!” She reached for her drink on the little round table next to her and held it up in a toast. She took a long sip and stared at my scabby legs.

  I scratched at my bites. I had dozens of them. I couldn’t help it. Mosquitoes loved me. I must have tasted like the marshmallow section of a Sky Bar to them.

  Charlene wrapped her arms around her knees and giggled. “If you say so, Grandma. You’re the expert. Miss North Carolina 1939! I bet you had all the cute boys chasing you.”

  Grandma started coughing on her drink.

  Yuck, yuck, yuck. I got up and left the patio. I wasn’t going to be part of this pageant. I wouldn’t help with one. I wouldn’t go to another one. And I wouldn’t ever join one. Ever. Mama made me go to Charlene’s first pageant, but I had such a hard time sitting still and keeping quiet that she told Daddy to stay home with me the next time. We just had to show up at the end in case Charlene won—which hadn’t happened yet. Staying home had been fine with us both. We went fishing instead, and one time I caught a ten-inch bass. We let him go, of course, because of how we respected nature. Daddy was nice like that. He never would have dried up a fish to hang it on the wall.

  I wanted to ask Grandma if there were any creeks or ponds around for fishing, but she was too busy talking about the pageant. So I ran across the lawn and poked around Grandma’s yard, checking out her flowerbeds. I wondered if I could do some gardening with her, but it didn’t look like she spent much time out there. Most everything was wilted or shriveling up. Her grass was turning brown too. I looked for a tree to climb, but the branches were all too high.

  Climbing trees is how I got my nickname. I was trying to get a closer look at some neat white flowers on a tree in our front yard a few years ago. They only had four petals, which seemed unusual. I scampered a couple of branches up and reached out to pick a blossom. Then I fell and chipped my two front teeth.

  Mama was real upset on the car ride to the dentist even though I wasn’t even crying or fussing at all. “You’re lucky it was just your teeth,” she said. “Children across America fall out of trees every day and sometimes they break their legs and sometimes the doctors have to cut off those legs!”

  “Oh, come on now, Cecelia. There, there,” Daddy said, patting her hand.

  Mama scowled at him and pushed his hand away.

  But he was right. The dentist fixed my teeth right up.

  “See? That chip’s gone,” Daddy said. “Those teeth are good as new, Brenda. You be more careful so you don’t lose a leg next time.” He winked at Mama. And that’s when Daddy started calling me Chip. It didn’t even matter that it was a boy’s nickname; I was his girl.

  Usually being a daddy’s girl means he buys you treats and lets you out of chores. But not me. We spent our time in the woods, tracking rabbits and saving baby squirrels that fell out of their nests. Who’s got time for hair curlers and high heels like Charlene’s when you’re busy keeping baby squirrels alive? I couldn’t be a pageant girl and my daddy’s girl even if I wanted to. Besides, Daddy always said I didn’t need a pageant to prove I was pretty. He thought I was perfect just being me—Daddy’s Girl.

  But since Daddy was gone, I didn’t know whose girl I was. I slumped against a tree in Grandma’s yard, slapping away the mosquitoes. I guess I tasted good to the ones down south too.

  Laughter tinkled from the patio like Mama and my sisters had been living with Grandma forever, not just a few hours. I wanted to be part of the fun, too, so I headed back to the patio when Mama called, “Time for bed, Chip. We’ve had a long day.”

  Bedtime already? I trudged up to Grandma’s house without that comfy feeling I usually got on the way to my own room.

  “Hurry up, Brenda,” Grandma snapped. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

  The sun had just set, but the sky wasn’t pitch-black yet. Fireflies flashed in the grass like twinkling lights on a Christmas tree. Then I remembered the date on my calendar for the next day: 7/7/77. I sprinted across the lawn, thinking about all those lucky sevens. That date only comes around once every one hundred years. Something wonderful was sure to happen after so many bad things. Billy and I had been counting down to this day. I wondered what he’d be doing on 7/7/77. Maybe Daddy’s sign would come tomorrow. Or Grandma might smile at me more than she frowned.

  “Coming!” I skipped the rest of the way up to the house, tugging along a little nugget of hope that things would get better tomorrow. Daddy always said everything looked brighter in the morning. I sure hoped he was right.

  chapter three

  WHEN MAMA TUCKED ME IN, I DECIDED TO GET BRAVE again. I ran my fingers along the silky strip of material at the top of my blanket. “You didn’t tell me why Grandma’s so mean. She doesn’t like me very much. And she seems mad at you.” I looked up at her.

  Mama stood up from my bed. “Chip, she likes you just fine. Now go to sleep.” She squeezed the bridge of her nose. She did that a lot around me.

  I crossed my arms on top of the blanket. “Mama …” I was nagging again, but I couldn’t help it. I had to know.

  Mama paused at the door. “It’s not you, Chip. Do you know how many housekeepers she’s fired? Twenty-two. And that was just in 1955. When we’d go out to dinner, she’d make nine out of ten of the waitresses cry. A few of them quit, even. They never waitressed again and had to go to beauty school.”

  “Mama, I’m serious. Why’s she like that? Is she just a tough nut to crack?” That was one of Daddy’s sayings. He could make anyone smile—grumpy bank tellers, gum-snapping grocery store clerks, and tired waitresses. Mama would tease him and call him a charmer. But the few times he didn’t get a grin, he’d wink at me and whisper, “No worries. They’re just a tough nut to crack.” Maybe that was Grandma—one tough nut.

  I thought Mama might laugh, but she looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes. “Someday I’ll try to explain about Grandma. Some day you might understand how a person can harden up like that. But please, just try to get along with her, Chip.”

  “But, Mama, she hates animals, she loves dolls, and she hasn’t said one nice thing to me yet. How are we supposed to get along?”

  Mama’s shoulders slumped. “Just try your best. Can you do that for me? Promise?”

  I nodded and let out a long sigh. Mama knew I hated breaking promises. “Yes, Mama. I promise.”

  Mama gave me half a smile. “Thanks.” She clicked off the light and left the room. I fell right asleep and dreamed that Grandma turned into a big wooden statue, standing right in the same room with all those dead animals w
hile holding a handful of nuts.

  EVEN THOUGH I WAS STILL GRUMPY ABOUT LIVING AT Grandma’s in a room full of old fabric and stuffed birds, I jumped out of bed in the morning, remembering it was going to be a special day. Maybe we’d just gotten off to a bad start and things would be easier with Grandma after we’d all had a good night’s sleep. It was time to try again, especially since I’d promised Mama.

  I pulled my turtle’s bowl out of the closet and poked a piece of okra at him that I’d smuggled up from dinner. He blinked and tucked his head in his shell. I set him back in the closet, hidden away behind a box, and walked into the hall. I stopped in front of the off-limits room. A whoosh of excitement shot through me. I’d never had such a big secret staring me in the face. A locked room I was forbidden to enter. What in the world could an old lady have that no one was allowed to see? I was just hiding a little old turtle in my closet, but she had a secret that took up a whole room.

  I reached out to try turning the brass doorknob, and then yanked my hand back. Getting caught snooping around definitely wouldn’t help Grandma like me more. I shrugged. Never mind, I thought. Maybe another day, because today was the luckiest day of the century, and something much better than a dusty old room was going to turn up, I just knew it. I backed away and skipped down the stairs, imagining what wonderful, lucky, supergood thing was going to happen on 7/7/77.

  “Mornin’, Chip,” Mama said.

  “Eat up. We’ve got big plans today,” Grandma said.

  I smiled at that, and bounced over to the table and sat down. Grandma had small, wooden chairs that forced you to sit up straight, but I didn’t mind. I wasn’t even upset that a box of Grape-Nuts cereal was sitting where my Froot Loops should be. “So what are we doing today?”

  “We’re going to town to choose material for Charlene’s gown. Why don’t you come along and check out Mount Airy?” Mama said.