Sophie’s World Page 5

  “Move up to a D?” Sophie wailed in the hall to Fiona. “My life is over!”

  “She thinks it’ll make you work harder, just to show her she’s wrong.”

  “What if she isn’t? What if I do get a D on my progress report? What if we don’t get to play together ever again?”

  “What if you stop thinking up that kind of stuff and concentrate on Antoinette? We have to make a movie!”

  Sophie felt herself wilting. “Do you really think I can do this?”

  “I don’t think—I know,” Fiona said. “I’ll call you tonight, mon amie.” She grinned. “That means ‘ my friend.’”

  Sophie watched Fiona flit toward a black SUV. When Fiona opened the car door, the woman in the driver’s seat chattered away in a foreign language to two little heads sticking up out of boosters in the middle seats.

  Fiona popped her head out the window and yelled, “Call me as soon as you talk to your dad!”

  But Sophie barely had a chance to say hello to Daddy when he walked in at suppertime just as the phone rang. It was a way-excited Fiona.

  “He said yes!” she shouted into Sophie’s ear.

  “I don’t know who that is,” Lacie said, “but she doesn’t need a telephone. Sophie, you have to help set the table. Get the knives and forks.”

  Sophie cradled the phone to her neck and pulled open the silverware drawer.

  “Your dad said yes?” she said.

  “He said to pick out any camera you want. We’ll bring some over.”

  Sophie shoved the phone closer to her lips. “I haven’t even asked my dad yet—”

  Daddy looked up from a stack of mail. “What haven’t you asked me?”

  “My dad wants to talk to your dad,” Fiona said. Sophie put her hand over the receiver and handed it to her father. He looked as if he had no idea what was going on.

  But as she was dropping the last fork into place, Daddy hung up the phone and said to Mama, “Super nice guy. Very intelligent.”

  “Who?” Mama said.

  “Viola’s father,” said Daddy.

  “Fiona!” Sophie and her mom said together.

  Daddy picked up Zeke just as he was about to poke his Spider-Man action figure into the spaghetti sauce bowl. “I’m going to buy a video camera from him, Soph. He’s coming by next Saturday, after you’ve taken your tests.”

  “Does she still have to get a C in everything?” Lacie said.

  “Is that your business?” Mama said.

  “I still think you ought to make her go out for a sport,” Lacie said.

  “How about we sit down and ask the blessing?” Mama said. Zeke insisted they say the prayer four times because he had just learned it. Then Lacie snapped her napkin into her lap. “So some shrink says Sophie needs a video camera and she just gets one? Failing grades and all?”

  “I’d watch that tone if I were you,” Daddy said.

  Lacie turned to Sophie and looked ready to explode right into the pasta. “I told you not to tell any of the other kids you were seeing a shrink!”

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Mama said.

  “True,” Daddy said. “Although I don’t think we need to be telling everybody our family business.”

  “This is going to get all the way up to the middle school, isn’t it?” Lacie said.

  “I only told Fiona,” Sophie said.

  “And she told her father, which means her mother probably knows—”

  “I’m not even sure her mom speaks English,” Sophie said.

  Mama poised the salad tongs over the bowl. “Really?”

  “She was talking some other language today in their car.”

  “Well, her dad speaks perfect English,” Daddy said. “And I’m sure he has better things to do than spread gossip about Sophie, okay?”

  Antoinette put her hands over her ears. Why did these noble people even listen to that little scullery maid? All she did was make trouble. Well, it wouldn’t be long before saucy Lacette realized how Antoinette rose high above all such mundane things —

  “Dream Girl,” Mama said. “You need to eat.”

  Beside her, Lacie grunted and tore a piece of garlic bread in half. Sophie felt certain it was meant to be her.

  Fiona and Sophie tried to pass the week until the next Saturday by concentrating on the first scene they were going to film when Sophie got her camera. When, not if. Sophie worked on homework with Fiona over the phone, and Fiona checked her work every morning—just in case Antoinette had taken over.

  But every day on the playground after lunch, they launched into Antoinette and Henriette’s stories no matter who might be around. And each time Fiona and Sophie climbed down from the monkey bars, Maggie lurked nearby. They made a pact to find out what she was up to.

  On Thursday, just before end-of-the-week tests, Fiona and Sophie caught up to Maggie on their way to math. Maggie was walking in that very straight way she had, her head moving almost like a machine as she looked from side to side.

  “Hi, Maggie,” Sophie said.

  Maggie turned to look at them. There was no expression in her eyes.

  “You were watching us play, weren’t you?” Fiona said.

  “Do you have a problem with that?” Maggie asked.

  “No!” Sophie said. The last thing she wanted was trouble. It wouldn’t look good on her progress report.

  “We just wondered,” Fiona said.

  Maggie hesitated, and then she nodded and fell in heavily beside them as they continued down the hall. “I mostly watch the other kids watching you,” she said. “They think you’re weird.”

  “So what else is new?” Fiona said.

  “We’re used to it,” Sophie said. This felt so much easier with Fiona by her side.

  “I know you guys make up stuff and play it,” Maggie said. Her words thunked like tennis balls against a wall. “I like to play games like that too. Only I would never do it where these people could see me. You’re just asking for it when you play make-believe out in the open.”

  “We’re okay with it,” Fiona said.

  “We’re not embarrassed at all,” Sophie said.

  “But you hate the teasing.” Maggie said. “I know you do.”

  “They’re just clueless Pops,” Fiona said.

  “I’m just telling you,” Maggie said.

  They walked the rest of the way to Mrs. Utley’s room in silence. When they got to the door, Maggie said, “I’d play with you if you did it outside school. You don’t play sports, so you’re free after school.”

  “We have to get to class,” Fiona said.

  They hurried to their places. Sophie watched as Maggie sat at a table on the other side of the room.

  “That’s creepy,” Fiona said. “It’s like she’s spying on us all the time.”

  It felt that way to Sophie too. And to Antoinette—

  A cold chill crept up Antoinette’s spine. Why did Magdalena lurk nearby always? Could she be a spy for her country? Was she after the gold as well? Perhaps she worked for the pirates.

  Antoinette glanced at Magdalena from behind her cloak. This girl would bear watching—careful watching.

  “Ahem!”

  Sophie looked at Fiona. “Good,” she whispered. “You got it at Level One.”

  “Thanks,” Sophie said. “What would I do without you?”

  Sophie stuck out both of her pinky fingers. Fiona hesitated and then linked her own pinkies into Sophie’s.

  “That’s our secret handshake,” Sophie whispered.

  On Friday morning, Fiona greeted Sophie on the stage with a frosted Pop-Tart.

  “You can so do this,” she said as she broke off a piece and stuck it into Sophie’s mouth. “It’s your mission.”

  Sophie felt her face soften with Antoinette thoughts.

  “But don’t go there,” Fiona said. “Not until you get the camera. Tomorrow!”

  “Progress reports don’t come out till Monday,” Sophie said.

  “But you can f
ind out your test grades today. Your dad’s going to be so psyched; he might not wait till Monday. Come on—secret handshake.”

  That sealed it. Sophie marched into language arts and answered almost every question on the test. She knew the answers to all of them, but she didn’t have time to fill in the last two.

  “No worries,” Fiona told her between classes. “You still probably got a C.”

  Social studies felt even easier. But when Antoinette began tickling herself with her quill pen, all Fiona had to hit was Level Two, and Sophie recovered. After their computer test, they practically danced to their chairs in the cafeteria. Maggie leaned across the table.

  “Here comes Ms. Quelling,” she hissed. “Don’t look at her! She’s mad.”

  “She’s always mad,” Fiona said, glancing up.

  Sophie’s heart froze when Ms. Quelling riveted her eyes first on Sophie and then on Fiona.

  “I want you two in my room right now,” she said. “We need to talk about cheating.”

  They followed her down the hall and into her classroom, their clammy hands clinging to each other.

  “Sit,” Ms. Quelling said. The girls sank into side-by-side chairs. Ms. Quelling picked up two papers. “How do you explain your almost identical answers on my test?” she asked, flicking her bright red nails like tiny daggers. “I thought you’d at least dream up an explanation.”

  Somehow Sophie found her voice. “I knew the answers, and I wrote them down.”

  “Suddenly you just knew the material after doing nothing in my class for six weeks?”

  “I’ve been doing all my homework this week. And Fiona helped me study.”

  “That’s right,” Fiona said. “We studied a lot together.” She pulled her bow-mouth into a line. “You think that’s cheating?”

  “That isn’t cheating,” Ms. Quelling said. “And I might even believe it, if someone hadn’t reported to me that you have some kind of secret code going on.”

  “We do,” Sophie said.

  Ms. Quelling’s eyes went round. “So you did cheat?”

  “No!” Sophie said. “We don’t use it to cheat. Fiona coughs at me when she sees me daydreaming.”

  “Everybody wants her to stop drifting off,” Fiona said in a voice much pointier than Sophie’s. “I’m just helping her.”

  Ms. Quelling laid the papers back on her desk. She looked disappointed.

  “All right,” she said. “I guess I don’t have any choice but to believe that. I don’t have any proof. But know this—I am going to be watching y’all very closely. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Sophie said before Fiona could say anything.

  “Y’all go to class now,” Ms. Quelling said. “Lunch is almost over.”

  Sophie bolted for the door, but Fiona lingered at the table.

  “What is it?” Ms. Quelling said. Her voice stretched out like a rubber band. Fiona pointed to the test papers. “Could we please see our grades?”

  Ms. Quelling made a loud click with her tongue. “They’re both the same.”

  Fiona turned the papers over and grinned at Sophie. “B-plusses!”

  “No way!” Sophie said. “I never made a B-plus my whole life!”

  “Exactly my point,” Ms. Quelling said. “Now go, both of you.”

  “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again,” said Dr. Peter as he ushered Sophie to their corner window seat that afternoon. “I want to hear more stories.”

  Sophie snatched up some hair. “I don’t have any stories today. I’m sorry. If you’re really disappointed, I can make up one right now.”

  Dr. Peter wrinkled his nose, but just a little. “I’m sure you could, but I’m curious. Why no stories today?”

  “Antoinette would never have a problem like this,” she said. “It’s too heinous to even talk about.”

  Dr. Peter leaned forward. “Listen, Sophie: I will never tell anyone anything you say to me in here without your permission. What you tell me stays just between you and me.”

  “Would you put your hand on a Bible and say that?” Sophie said.

  “I can do that,” Dr. Peter said. “But I’d rather you just trust me.”

  Sophie squinted at him through her glasses.

  “Do you even have a Bible in here?” she said.

  “I couldn’t help some of my clients if I didn’t have the Bible.”

  “Oh,” Sophie said. She took a deep breath. “Okay. Here’s what happened.” She told him all about Fiona and the deal with Daddy—and about Ms. Quelling and the cheating thing.

  “If I have Ms. Quelling watching me every single second,” Sophie told him, “and maybe the other teachers too, when she tells them—which she will—how am I supposed to focus? Already I only got a C-minus on my math test because I was so vexed!”

  Dr. Peter tapped his lips with his thumbnail. “I understand you go to church and Sunday school every week.”

  “I do,” Sophie said.

  “So do I,” he said. “Do you like it?”

  Sophie took stock of her split ends. “Sometimes. But other times I daydream that it’s Jesus up there preaching. That’s okay, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely,” Dr. Peter said. “In fact, I was just going to suggest something along those lines.”

  “No, you weren’t! Were you?”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you, Sophie,” he said.

  Sophie searched his face. There was no nose wrinkling or anything.

  “I believe you,” she said. “You seem very trustworthy.”

  “Here’s my suggestion,” Dr. Peter said. “As always, you can simply try it, and if it doesn’t work, we’ll try something else. But I think this is going to be perfect for you.” He used his hands to explain in the air. “At home, when you’re yourself and not Antoinette, I want you to picture Jesus, maybe the way you dream about him in church. And then I want you to talk to him about all these problems you’re having.”

  “You mean out loud?” Sophie said.

  “It doesn’t have to be out loud. You can whisper, or you can just think it in your mind. Just be perfectly honest with him. You don’t have to worry about what he thinks, because he already loves you totally. Just talk to him every day, even just for a few minutes.”

  “Am I supposed to imagine him answering me?” Sophie said.

  Dr. Peter shook his head. “No. That’s where it’s different from your other daydreaming. You’ll need to let him talk for himself.”

  Sophie could feel her eyes popping. “He’s going to answer me? Like, out loud?”

  “Probably not out loud like your father’s voice or mine. Some people hear the Lord that way, but I personally don’t.”

  “Then how?” Sophie said.

  “I can’t tell you exactly. You might feel something peaceful. Or you might not feel anything right away, but then later you’ll realize something has changed. Sometimes Jesus gives silent answers.”

  Sophie pinched some of her hair between her nose and her upper lip and nodded. Dr. Peter pushed up his glasses.

  “I don’t think you’re sold on this idea,” he said. “But think about it and give it a try.”

  “One try?” Sophie said.

  He twinkled a smile at her. “How about once a day until we meet next week?”

  Sophie sighed. “All right,” she said.

  “One thing you can be sure of: he’s going to listen.”

  That night as Sophie knelt by her bed to pray, she thought, What if Lacie comes in and sees me and tells Mama and Daddy I’m playing Joan of Arc in here? What if Daddy thinks I’m double-weird? I never see him pray except in church and at the dinner table. What if I tell Fiona I’m doing this—and she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore? I don’t even know what religion she is.

  “Sophie?”

  She jumped up and knocked her princess lamp against the headboard.

  “You okay?” Daddy said through the door. “Sounds like the place is falling apart.”

 
“I’m fine,” Sophie said.

  “Okay—lights out, then.”

  Sophie listened to Daddy’s feet padding to Lacie’s room.

  “Come on in, Dad,” she heard Lacie say. “Check out this game schedule.”

  Sophie shut her eyes. The kind face of Jesus smiled at her.

  “Jesus,” she whispered. “Does Daddy love Lacie more than he loves me? I should have told him and Mama about today, but I’m afraid. And Lacie always gets A’s in citizenship. Lord, I don’t want to feel like this. Amen.”

  But Sophie didn’t feel peaceful. She just hoped that Dr. Peter was right.

  Seven

  Saturday dragged past breakfast and cartoons, past lunch and chores until the black SUV finally pulled into the driveway. Sophie hadn’t had a minute alone to ask over the phone, but she hoped for the millionth time that Fiona hadn’t told her parents about the cheating accusation.

  But the minute she saw Fiona bolt out of the car, Sophie forgot about that.

  Antoinette gathered up her skirts and rushed breathlessly to meet her friend. Although she knew it wasn’t ladylike, Antoinette rushed past the woman climbing down from the carriage; so eager was she to get to Henriette.

  “Whoa, there!” she said.

  “Sophie—watch where you’re going!” Daddy said.

  “My word! Are you hurt?” said Mama.

  Sophie snapped back to the real scene. A slender woman lay halfway on her back on the driveway. That’s not who picks up Fiona at school, Sophie thought. Daddy pinched his eyebrows together as he grabbed the woman’s hand.

  “You need to be aware of your surroundings,” he said to Sophie. “You knocked down—”

  “Amy,” said the woman, who rose to her feet. “Amy Bunting. And don’t worry about it. I get tangled in those two almost daily.” She nodded toward Fiona’s little brother and sister who had climbed from the SUV and were already chasing Zeke.

  A very tall man with bright eyes and narrow shoulders introduced himself as Ethan Bunting. When Fiona introduced Boppa, her grandfather, she planted a kiss on top of his bald head.

  “Fiona talks about you all the time,” he said to Sophie.

  “Boppa, would you mind—?” said Mrs. Bunting. Boppa gave a here-we-go-again smile and headed toward the porch where Fiona’s little brother and sister were climbing the railing with Zeke right behind them.