An Imperfect Librarian - Elizabeth Murphy [7]
“Sorry, Edith. Henry’s teasing again.”
“No need to apologize. I’ll be your lovebird any day.”
Henry winks at me then goes out the door, leaving me to clean up after him in more ways than one.
CHAPTER FIVE
hola mamá
ICOULD HAVE GONE BACK TO the Chief to tell him what Francis said on the stairwell. But it’s reporting that upset Francis in the first place. I should have known that would happen. The last time I reported on someone it backfired as well. It was only a couple of years after Papa and I moved to France from Quebec. There were three boys in particular who were causing me problems. What they lacked in centimetres they made up for in brazenness. Sometimes I thought their only pastime was playing tricks on me. I’d come home from school with my clothes torn, my face, arms or legs scratched and bruised. Papa would say, “You’re taller than boys twice your age. Fight back!” My height didn’t work as a weapon. On the contrary – that, plus the remains of my Québécois accent, made me an easy target for their pranks. It didn’t help that they knew I was a bastard child. They’d figured that much out – heard it from their parents probably.
They used similar ploys each time. “She wants to touch your dicky,” they said once. I was on my way home in my new outfit. Papa had bought it for the beginning of the school year. “Don’t let me find a spot on it,” he warned me. He didn’t need to worry. I was so proud of my long pants, new vest and shirt, I wouldn’t even allow dust to touch them. The bowtie was uncomfortable but I was afraid I’d lose it if I took it off. I was the finest dressed of anyone that day. I thought that’s why the boys seemed to be behaving differently towards me.
“She’s in the park,” they said as they led me there. “Wait on the bench. We’ll get her for you.”
I leaned back on the bright green bench and waited. At the time, I used to believe things happened faster if you closed your eyes. The time did go fast with my eyes closed, but I couldn’t wait forever because Papa would be upset if I came home late. Eventually I left. Not long after, I met up with the boys again. “She didn’t come,” I told them. They said nothing. They were too busy laughing to talk.
Papa was there when I arrived. He was at home every afternoon because he didn’t have a job yet. “Where were you?” he said.
“In the park.”
“Go take off your good clothes before you sit at the table to do your homework.”
I headed to my room. I couldn’t wait to take off the bowtie.
“Carl!” he roared. As soon as I saw the expression on his face, I knew what I was in for. I did what he said. I stripped down to my skin. My clothes lay in a pile on the floor with the horizontal stripes of green paint facing upwards. Papa felt better after giving me a spanking. I felt better knowing he felt better.
It didn’t end there, although I wished it could have. He packed the soiled clothes in a bag and we went to see the principal the next day. The principal gave me an apple to chew on while Papa shouted at him. When Papa left, I went to my classroom with the principal. He carried the bag and held my hand. He didn’t grip it tightly the way Papa usually did. The three boys were in the back row. I stood by the principal’s side and ate my apple.
He pulled my clothes out of the bag. “Who is responsible? Who?” He knew who they were, but he asked anyway. He held my trousers, shirt and vest in front of him, shaking them. We weren’t used to him shouting. No one said anything. He turned to face me. I thought he was going to order me to stop eating the apple.
“What did the boys do to you, Carl? Tell everyone,” he said.
“They told me to sit on the bench, sir.”
“Why did they tell you to sit on the bench?”
“To wait for the girl, sir.”
“What girl?”
“The girl I was waiting for, sir.”
“Why were you waiting for the girl?”
“Because they told me to, sir.”
“Yes, but why did they tell you? Why did you need to wait for the girl?”