She scoffed to herself. The thought of someone like Ellie wielding the power of the heirloom was laughable. Ellie's naiveté and optimism were like lasers painting a target; it was impossible to resist trickery when someone absolutely begged for it.
Ellie's main problem was that she saw the good in everyone, or at least the potential for good. Ellie didn't see reality; instead of looking out over a class of lethargic thugs and users, Ellie saw young doctors, lawyers, and artists who had simply been waylaid on their path to success. It was disgusting - all that enthusiasm and blind faith in hollow people and empty dreams. Stusa was a void, a shadow town; it was futile to try to change it or to believe that change was even possible.
The Shadow peered through the trees; the Pelletier house looked empty. The cars were gone, and the dogs were on the screened-in back porch. Even so, she moved cautiously. The dogs would smell her before they saw her. If their barking didn't bring anyone out, she could be certain that no one was home.
She snorted as she entered easily through the front door. The Pelletiers had invested in structure and decoration, but not enough on the locks. They were easy to bypass for someone of The Shadow's talent. As she crossed the threshold, she looked to the right. On the wall, adjacent to the front door was the bénitier.
The bénitier was antique -- a French, religious, holy font. A silver figurine of Jesus Christ hanging from a wooden cross was displayed on a background of red velvet with the letters INRI on top. A small finger bowl below the crucifix held holy water. The velvet and metal showed their age, but the bénitier's shabby-chic condition complimented the homestead.
The Shadow knew that each time Ellie left the house, she dipped her right hand into the small font and crossed herself as she exited. She reached into her rucksack, withdrawing a tiny vial. She removed the dropper and squeezed three drops of amber-colored oil into the holy water. She laughed to herself and climbed the stairs to the Pelletier's bedroom.
This was almost too easy. In the master bedroom, The Shadow misted Ellie's pillowcase with a green-tinged liquid. Then, she went into Ellie's closet. She misted all of Ellie's blouses. She placed one drop of the amber-colored oil inside each shoe.
Her final act, however, was the cruelest of all; before exiting the closet, The Shadow opened Ellie's drawer of lingerie and misted it all. She waited for each lacy, flimsy piece to dry and replaced the undergarments with a smirk. This would be hard to wait for but amusing to watch unfold.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
UNBEARABLE URUSHIOL
Ellie couldn't shake the sense that something was wrong. She couldn't identify the feeling. Then, it hit her. Ellie was dipping her forefinger into the bénitier, crossing herself as she left for work, when the word she had been searching for popped into her mind.
Ellie was feeling persecuted. Ellie had never played the role of victim, so she wasn't used to admitting such feelings, but there it was. She felt picked on, put upon, persecuted.
She reviewed her ever-ready mental list of what had led to those feelings. Ellie had been misled - whether intentionally or unintentionally, she wasn't sure - about her job. She had almost drowned at the fall festival due to faulty equipment. She'd been threatened by a student - twice. Rumors had spread about her husband and his assistant, and she'd faced religious scorn from those who felt themselves to be "holier."
Just that week, her students were analyzing the characters and tracing their development throughout the play. Students had been comparing the small-town settings of Salem and Stusa. They eagerly awaited Fridays so they could work on the play. They had discussed how religion played a vital role in the lives of the Salem villagers and how Salem Village was, in fact, a theocracy.
After all, Ellie’s history buffs pointed out, most of the Puritans had come over to America seeking religious freedom and a permanent escape from the English Reformation which had started with King Henry VIII and continued through the 1600s. This, naturally, led to a debate among class members as to which religious group had done more harm than the other. It became quite heated and, unfortunately, quite personal.
As students discussed the origin of the Church of England - King Henry VIII wanting to divorce himself both from his wife and the jurisdiction of the Catholic Church at the time - Ellie wondered if humanity would ever stop using religion as an excuse for hatred. In the midst of this debate, Georgianna, the daughter of a staunch Bible-thumping mother, turned the argument from a historical debate to a contemporary attack.
"Yeah, well Miz Paylaytay is a Catholic herself. She worships Mayree."
The contempt packed into those few words made Ellie sound like she sacrificed small children to Satan; Ellie’s mouth dropped open as she was caught completely off-guard. The entire class inhaled a collective gasp and turned to Ellie with faces full of mistrust and disappointment.
Ellie exhaled slowly, said a quick prayer for patience, and said in her calmest teacher voice, "That is a widespread misconception among Protestants here." She clenched her jaw on that last word here.
Just at that moment, the tension was relieved by a tardy arrival to class. To Ellie’s delight, GG entered the classroom with a late pass and took her seat as they got back to work. Ellie would have loved to hear her thoughts on the matter. GG's insight into history made her a wonderful student with an interesting perspective, but Ellie decided against it since calm had been restored.
Was the entire town's scorn directed at Ellie? Or was she being overly sensitive as Julien suggested? She supposed it was small town xenophobia, but she should have expected that, being the first new teacher in the county for over a decade. Maybe it was like some type of initiation into a fraternity; if Ellie made the cut and withstood the crucible, they'd allow her admittance into the community and into her French classes.
Ellie put her thoughts aside as she pulled into the school parking lot and prepared for her day. Sometime during first period, Ellie began to feel a mild, tingling itch right in the middle of her forehead. Great, a new zit popping out right here in front of my entire class.
She tried her best not to scratch, but before too long the itch intensified. It seemed to spread all over her face. Ellie tried pinching her cheeks and tapping herself lightly to keep from giving in to the itching sensation, but soon she was full-on scratching.
Her students were beginning to stare; Geonjelo asked her if she was having a seizure. Ellie stepped into the hall, asking the teacher next door to keep an eye on her class. She headed for the teachers' lounge to put a cold, wet paper towel over her face. As Ellie was speed-walking, she felt a tingling in her toes that rapidly expanded into an intense burning-itching sensation.
As she fumbled to find the key to the lounge, she noticed red whelps on the back of her hand. She finally got the right key, opened the door, kicked off her shoes, and ran straight to the sink. To Ellie's horror, her reflection in the mirror revealed the same angry, red blotches from her hand appearing on her face. She grabbed some ice from the fridge, and held the ice where the itching was the worst. It dawned on her that she must be suffering some type of allergic reaction, so Ellie picked up the phone to call the local hospital.
As she tried to dial, she felt a strange sensation. Her face felt like a balloon being slowly inflated. She couldn't see very well. Were her eyes shrinking? No, but she could see her own cheeks puffing up like dough rising in an oven. Ellie's field of vision continued to shrink.
She began to panic. She could no longer see to make the call. Just then, Mr. Grant came into the lounge. He gave a little gasp when he realized he was not alone; the least little thing startled him. When he took a good look at Ellie, however, he absolutely shrieked. Ellie managed to croak, " 911" before collapsing against the wall and sliding to the floor.
Soon, there was a flutter of activity all around Ellie as she was being lifted onto a gurney and placed inside an ambulance. Principal Danvers ordered poor Mr. Grant to ride with her to the hospital and to call him when he knew what was going on with Elli
e and when she'd be back at work.
Ellie's eyes were almost swollen shut; she could only see through narrow, horizontal slits. Her forehead felt like a giant balloon waiting to pop, and her lips were so inflated that she couldn't close her mouth all the way. She thought drool might have been running down her chin, but she wasn't sure. After that, she didn't remember much.
According to the paperwork she read later, Ellie had received a Decadron shot on the way to the hospital, but it hadn't been effective. Once in the E.R, doctors hooked her up to an I.V. to administer steroids and Benadryl. Someone had called Julien, and he'd rushed to meet her at the hospital.
When Ellie eventually became aware of her surroundings, the first thing she noticed were her feet. They stuck out from under the hospital blanket at the end of her bed and looked like Hobbit feet. They were twice their normal size.
Large, red, weeping blisters seemed to cover every part of her flesh: her face, lips, mouth, toes, and even, quite embarrassingly, her most private parts. She was swollen, itchy, miserable -- unable to do anything other than lie there trying to understand what was happening to her.
Apparently, doctors explained, she had recently encountered poison ivy -- a vine that Ellie had only read about before moving to Stusa, but one that she learned grew practically everywhere in the continental United States. Ellie had suffered a rare (but not unheard of) severe allergic reaction to said vine. Henceforth, she would have to avoid poison ivy, unless she wanted to find out if the next reaction would be even worse – or fatal. The most awful part was that she wouldn't have to touch the plant itself; she could react to the oil of the plant which could be carried by the girls, the dogs, or someone's clothes. It was horribly frightening.
After the doctors left the room, Ellie looked around. She couldn't have seen her face if she wanted to; Julien had draped all the mirrors and reflective surfaces with hospital sheets from the neighboring bed. Ellie was relieved that her field of vision was increasing, but her lips were still enormous. Trying to talk was like having to form words with two gigantic, flapping butt cheeks; it was impossible. She giggled when she realized it gave a whole new meaning to the phrase "talkin' outta her ass."
Doctors eventually sent Ellie home with antibiotics, more oral steroids and creams, and orders to take Benadryl every four hours for the next three days. After she returned to normal, Ellie was under strict orders to wash every single piece of clothing in the entire house in case oil from the poison ivy was on anything. If the girls had it on their jackets, for example, Ellie could react to the lingering residue. And the worst part, the doctors informed her, was that the Urushiol - the chemical culprit within the oil that caused so much grief - could remain active for up to five years.
When they got home, Julien immediately stripped their bed and replaced all the linens before tucking Ellie in and dosing her with Benadryl. Tai had picked the girls up from school and was waiting with them when they arrived. Ellie realized she must have still looked rough because Tai gave a small gasp.
Bibianne said, "Oh! Poor Maman! We love you even if you are très laide!" Bibi rushed over to give Ellie a quick hug, and then Méline followed. Méline wasn't quite so adept at hiding the look of shock on her face upon seeing Ellie.
Fortunately, Julien took everything in stride. He was a tender care-taker and didn't complain once about waking Ellie up every four hours to give her the necessary meds. While Ellie was asleep, he washed all her clothes from the bureau. He wiped down her shoes – inside and out.
Julien turned out to be an impressive house husband. He bathed the dogs and washed all the girls' clothes. He washed their shoes, too, and threw away the ones that didn't survive the washing machine. The intense cleaning had taken two full days. Ellie wanted to help, but the medications left her woozy and thick-tongued.
Most of all, she wanted to get better so Tai wouldn't be around to help with the girls. Ellie had mixed emotions about that. She didn't like outsiders seeing her at her weakest – especially students - but she knew Julien must need the help with her being incapacitated.
Tai turned out to be thoughtful and helpful; she even brought Ellie a gift. She came upstairs and knocked gingerly on the door.
"Come in." Ellie replied groggily.
"Mrs. P? Are you okay?" Taiasked as she crossed to the bed.
"Sort of." Ellie responded with what she hoped was a sheepish grin rather than the grimace she suspected it to be.
"Well, I brought you something to cheer you up." Tai said with a smile. She pulled a painting out from behind her back and showed it to Ellie.
"Oh!" Ellie gasped. "It's lovely! My favorite artist! How did you know? How could you afford it? Even the copies are pricey." Ellie blurted without thinking.
Tai chuckled. "I didn't buy it, Mrs. P. I painted it!" A proud smile lit her face.
It was stunning. Tai had painted a replica of one of Ellie's very favorite pieces onto a thick, large canvas. It had everything Ellie loved - bright colors, abstract shapes, and just the right amount of whimsy. Ellie knew immediately where she would hang it in her classroom.
"Wow, Tai! I love it! I never knew you were so talented. I have just the spot for this in my classroom, if you don't mind me sharing it."
Tai glanced down at the floor and then back up at Ellie. "That's fine." She backed out of the room and left Ellie to enjoy her new piece of art.
As Ellie struggled not to scratch the whelps on her arms, she wondered for the dozenth time if she had misjudged Tai like the rest of Stusa. Maybe Tai was just trying to fit in with the one family who didn't seem to outright condemn her. Ellie knew that Julien would need Tai's help. Even after Ellie healed, there would still be so much left to do. For now, Ellie would have to accept Tai's assistance. She was in no condition to refuse.
ELIZABETH: You were alone with her?
PROCTOR: For a moment alone, aye.
ELIZABETH: Why, then, it is not as you told me.
PROCTOR: For a moment, I say. The others come in soon after.
ELIZABETH: Do as you wish, then.
PROCTOR: Woman. I'll not have your suspicion any more.
ELIZABETH: (A little loftily.) I have no…
PROCTOR: I'll not have it!
ELIZABETH: Then let you not earn it.
--Elizabeth Proctor to John Proctor, Act One, Scene 2 The Crucible
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ABIDING ACCUSATIONS
As Ellie lay in bed recovering from her poison ivy reaction, she stared at her new painting to try to keep from scratching. The medicine kept her too groggy to read or watch T.V. At some point, Ellie received a phone call from the principal; he called under the pretense of checking on her health.
"Well, uh Miz Palaytay. I know you are resting and that's good." He paused. Ellie waited to see what he meant. She sensed a "but there's more" coming.
"I hate to bring up somethin' at a time like this," he continued, "but it's my Christian duty to let you know what is being said around the community. Gawd has called me to a difficult job, Miz Palatay, and I come to you with a heavy heart."
"What exactly do you mean, Principal Danvers?" Ellie asked with as much politeness as she could muster in her miasma of medicine. "People know about my rather dramatic poison ivy reaction." I don't really see how that could…"
"Well," he started. "Now, that's not really what they are talkin' about, Miz Paylaytay. I mean ever'one is worried sick about ya' I can tell ya' that right now. Yes, ma'am, we are prayin' fervently for yore recovery. You are on many a prayer-list, for more than one reason."
She waited, hoping that he would eventually reveal the reason that everyone suddenly felt the need to pray for her. Was it because she was Catholic? That was old news. Surely the Pelletiers were not the first Catholic family in Stusa.
Principal Danvers finally intercepted the awkward pause. "Well, to be perfectly honest, there are some rumors runnin' round town about yore baby-sitter, Miz. I hate to be the one to bring it to yore attention, but Tai ain't
too much of a role model. The apple don't fall far from the tree, if you know what I mean."
Ellie paused. "No, I do not know what you mean. What apple? What tree? What on earth does Tai have to do with me being on a prayer-list?" Ellie asked.
"Well, I'll just cut to the chase." Principal Danvers sighed.
"I wish you would." Ellie responded. "It's almost time for me to take another dose of medicine."
He took a deep breath and said, "The town is worried about yore children. If Tai is yore babysitter, she might have some type of detrimental influence on yore family."
"What kind of influence are you referring to, sir? Wait, is this about the drug rumor at school? We've spoken to her about that and believe her claim of innocence."
"Well, Miz – it ain't just the weed she's accused of smoking or the shady frienz she hangs out with." He paused again. "She ahhh, she ahhhh has been seen with yore husband downtown."
"Of course, she has!" Ellie rolled her eyes. "She works at Julien's studio." Ellie replied, irritated. She was so tired of hearing these baseless rumors. She had spent the better part of first semester defending both her husband and Tai from the rumor mill.
"It gets worse, Miz. They been seen hangin' out together on some of the rooftops downtown smokin'.
Ellie was puzzled. Julien was an adult, and smoking wasn't damning, even in Stusa. And although Ellie didn't like that Julien had resumed one of the vices she thought he had conquered, she didn't see how the activity was illicit. Was the principal implying that they were smoking pot? It just didn't add up. As she tried to digest the odd piece of information, she asked, "When was this?"
Another throat clearing. "Ever' day this week since ya' been laid up."
"What!?!" Elie choked on the water she had been sipping. She coughed and spluttered into the phone. "He has been working all week," She stammered. "It must be someone else that resembles Julien."
Crucible Crisis Page 16
