Sophie’s World Read online

  “I thought that other lady was your mom,” Sophie whispered to Fiona.

  “Marissa? No, she’s our new nanny. Boppa loves to joke about how long she’ll last. We’ve never had one stay longer than six months.”

  “How come your mom didn’t go after them?” Sophie asked Fiona.

  “She can save your life on an operating table, but she can’t make those kids do anything. They’re brats.”

  “Your mom’s a doctor?”

  “Yeah. She’s a thoracic surgeon.”

  Sophie didn’t ask her what that meant, but it sounded important and probably messy. Their dads stood at the back of the SUV, examining cameras. Fiona grabbed Sophie’s hand and squeezed it as she dragged Sophie over there.

  Daddy stood up straight just then, and Sophie’s chest fluttered. He was holding a video camera.

  “Is that it?” Fiona asked. “Is that the one?”

  Daddy nodded, still peering at the camera with the earpiece of his sunglasses in his mouth.

  “Yes!” Fiona said. “Can we play with it now?” She reached to snag the camera.

  She’s going to get in so much trouble, Sophie thought.

  But Mr. Bunting just said dryly, “You’re so ladylike, Fiona.” Daddy held the video camera out of Fiona’s reach, his eyes glued to Sophie’s.

  “We saw our grades already,” Fiona said. “She did great. Are you gonna make her wait till Monday?”

  “Sophie knows when she can have the camera,” he said, still staring straight into Sophie’s eyes. “The Buntings have to leave shortly. They’re on their way to Richmond for the weekend. I’ll just hang onto it until we see that progress report Monday morning.”

  “Don’t worry,” Fiona whispered as her family loaded back into the car. “You know you’re going to get it.”

  Antoinette did not appear for the rest of the weekend. But on Sunday night, Sophie grabbed her mobcap and stuck it on her head. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine Jesus.

  “Is it ever going to be okay here?” she asked him. “Ever?”

  Eight

  As Sophie walked into school on Monday morning, she felt like throwing up her oatmeal. She imagined taking her progress report from class to class, her fate flowing from the tips of her teachers’ pens as each signed off the form.

  Antoinette pressed her hand to her stomach and tried not to think about the wretched gruel she’d eaten at the empty farmhouse. Lafayette’s encampment lay before her, and she must now cross the James River without becoming seasick.

  “Don’t worry,” Fiona said as they sat down in language arts. “We’ll get seat work today so the teachers can fill out the progress reports—”

  Anne-Stuart leaned across the table. “So, how do you think you’ll do in here?” Willoughby leaned over Anne-Stuart’s shoulder with a smile. They wore identical shirts.

  “Are you talking to me?” Sophie said.

  “I just wondered how you think you’ll do on your progress report.”

  “I got a C on the test,” Sophie said. “I didn’t get to finish all the questions.”

  “Really?” Anne-Stuart said. She cocked her head, her headband stretching her hair smoothly back from her forehead. “I thought you would do really well.”

  “You did?” Sophie said.

  “You had plenty of help,” Anne-Stuart said. “What did you get, Fiona?”

  “A-minus.” Fiona’s nostrils flared like little trumpets.

  “We studied together,” Sophie said.

  Anne-Stuart put a Kleenex to her mouth and coughed. Behind her, Willoughby coughed twice, and then yelped like a terrier.

  “I don’t get it,” Anne-Stuart said to Fiona. She sniffed several times, and Sophie wondered why she didn’t use the Kleenex for her nose. “How come Sophie got a C and you got an A-minus?”

  “I don’t know,” Fiona said through her teeth.

  Anne-Stuart coughed again into the Kleenex. Then Willoughby hacked like a cigarette smoker. Across the room came the sound of someone coughing up a lung. Sophie saw B.J. staring straight at her. Kitty cackled nearby, her ponytail flopping like a flounder.

  Anne-Stuart stopped choking and leaned toward Sophie. “I guess a C is pretty good for you, huh?”

  “Yes,” Sophie said. “I’m trying to improve.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business,” Fiona said.

  Anne-Stuart gave an innocent blink, her eyes sinus-watery, and coughed into her Kleenex. Willoughby choked and yelped as the last bell rang.

  “All right, people,” Mr. Denton said, his voice like a dial-tone. “I see only one person ready to work.”

  Sophie looked where he was pointing with his chin and saw Julia glance up from her open literature book as if she were surprised by the attention.

  “She is so corny,” Fiona whispered to Sophie.

  Sophie pulled up the hood on her sweatshirt and stared at her open literature book without seeing a word.

  At the end of the period, Mr. Denton laid the progress report in front of Sophie with a smile. There was a firm black C on it and the comment: Much improvement! Sophie seems to be adjusting now.

  “We’re on a roll!” Fiona said in the hallway. Sophie linked her arms in hers all the way into Ms. Quelling’s room.

  “I’m moving you, Sophie,” Ms. Quelling said before Sophie could put down her backpack. “Over here where I know no one is going to help you.” Ms. Quelling pointed to a seat right next to Julia and across from Anne-Stuart and Maggie.

  “I trust y’all,” Ms. Quelling said to them.

  Julia and Anne-Stuart nodded solemnly at the teacher. Maggie offered one of her open stares, but the other girls didn’t glance her way.

  “That way you won’t be tempted to even look at Fiona,” said Ms. Quelling. “The assignment is on the board.”

  Anne-Stuart and Julia flipped their textbooks open.

  “Aren’t you going to get started?” Maggie said to Sophie.

  Sophie tried to read about the writing of the Constitution and answer Ms. Quelling’s questions. But she found herself writing things like What if I still get a D because of my other tests? so many times she almost wore down an entire eraser.

  “Want one of my new pencils?” Anne-Stuart whispered.

  “I’m fine,” Sophie said.

  “Sophie,” Ms. Quelling said. “Look up the answers yourself.”

  But all Sophie could do was pretend to be reading. Even Antoinette could do no more than that.

  The period dragged on until Sophie knew she would absolutely dissolve into a small puddle if Ms. Quelling didn’t finish those reports in the next seven seconds.

  And then suddenly Anne-Stuart whispered, “She’s done!”

  “You look scared,” Julia said to Sophie.

  Sophie didn’t answer. She just watched as Ms. Quelling put a paper facedown in front of each student.

  “If you’ve worked hard,” Ms. Quelling said, “you have nothing to worry about.”

  No! Sophie wanted to cry out. That’s not true!

  Then Ms. Quelling put one at Sophie’s place, and Sophie stared at its blank back.

  What difference does it make? she thought. Ms. Quelling hates me no matter what I do. I could get an A plus on my test, and she would probably still find a way to flunk me.

  Antoinette slumped in despair. With Henriette nowhere in sight, how could she find Lafayette here, trapped in the enemy camp? Where can I turn? she thought. And then it came to her, like a tiny candle flickering in the darkness. Go to the Master Jesus, it whispered. Imagine his presence. Antoinette raised her face to the light and closed her eyes. Behind her she heard a soft cough.

  And then another, coming from Anne-Stuart. And still another, a louder one, from the back table, where B.J. was hacking into Kitty’s sleeve.

  “Do y’all need to go to the nurse’s office?” Ms. Quelling said. “I’m going to start handing out cough drops at the door.”

  “You started it,” Maggie said to Anne-Stuart,
words thudding.

  Both Julia and Anne-Stuart looked at her as if she were a passing worm, and then they focused on Sophie. She still hadn’t turned hers over.

  “The grade’s on the other side,” Maggie said.

  “So—look at it,” Anne-Stuart said. She crossed her fingers. “We’re hoping for you.”

  Julia crossed her fingers on both hands and nodded toward the back of Sophie’s paper.

  Sophie wanted to fold it up and stick in her backpack and read it when there weren’t three pairs of eyes watching her as if she were about to dive off a cliff.

  But something stopped her. Maybe it was the crossed fingers and the nodding heads. Julia and Anne-Stuart could be rude sometimes, but who couldn’t? Maybe they had some nice streaks in them, and maybe those were what were showing right now. Maybe they weren’t more evil than good.

  Slowly Sophie lifted the paper and looked at it. Julia and Anne-Stuart practically climbed across the table. Sophie saw the small B-in the space marked “This Week’s Grade Average” and felt herself going limp.

  “Is it bad?” Anne-Stuart said.

  Sophie shook her head and turned it around. Julia’s eyes scanned it and landed. Her smile stuck in place, but a storm seemed to pass over her face. Anne-Stuart gave Julia a stricken look.

  Sophie pressed the paper to her chest. Neither of the Pops had said a word, but all traces of “We’re hoping for you” were gone. She could only think one thing: They were hoping all right—hoping I would fail. An odd kind of nausea went up her throat. It had been one thing to be invisible to the Pops. But she was sure no one had ever hoped she would flunk. She shrank into Antoinette’s cloak.

  Maggie pointed at Sophie’s paper. “What does the comment say?”

  “I haven’t read it,” Sophie said.

  “Well, look at it,” Maggie said. “That’s what my mother always goes for right away—the comment.”

  Sophie looked. I’m seeing improvement, Ms. Quelling had written, but I suspect it hasn’t happened honestly, though I have no proof at this time. Will watch the situation carefully. I have separated her from Fiona Bunting. Would advise that you do the same.

  “That isn’t true,” Maggie said over Sophie’s shoulder. The bell rang. Sophie snatched up her backpack and charged for the door. Fiona was on her heels, and Sophie thrust the paper into her hands the minute they were in the hall.

  “B minus!” Fiona said. “That’s brilliant!”

  “Read what she wrote, though!” Sophie said.

  Fiona’s eyes grew wider as they swept the page.

  “No!” she said. Then she pushed the report back at Sophie and took out her own. “I haven’t even read my comment,” she said.

  She pulled Sophie closer to her as they stared at Ms. Quelling’s writing: Fiona continues to do above average work. However, her recent association with Sophie LaCroix may hurt her. I suspect cheating and will continue to keep diligent watch. I trust you will take appropriate action regarding this new friendship.

  Fiona stuffed the paper into her pack like a wad of trash.

  “That woman is beyond heinous,” she said. “She’s pure evil. And so are her little T.P.’s.”

  “T.P.’s?”

  “Teacher’s pets.” Fiona’s eyes went into little gray slits again. “Teacher’s Pops.”

  Sophie felt a whisper of a smile on her lips. “You mean Corn Pops.”

  “They are Corn Pops!” Fiona let out a bitter laugh. “They’re just corny and fake, but they think they’re all that.”

  Sophie grinned. And then just as quickly, she felt the cloak fall on her, heavy and dark.

  “What if our parents believe her?” she said.

  Fiona shrugged. “Your parents know you’re not a cheater.” Fiona gave her a gentle push toward the computer room door.

  “Let’s get through this class so we can go play. I’m suffocating in this place.”

  The solid C in computers and Ms. Y’s comment, Good to see this, didn’t do much to lift Sophie’s spirits. She was just surprised Ms. Y had managed to squeeze in a comment at all. Ms. Quelling had used up most of her space too, with her scissor-words.

  Sophie said to Fiona when they were on the playground after lunch, “I’m sure Ms. Quelling hates me.”

  “It’s not true.”

  They both looked down from the monkey bars. Maggie was squinting up at them, one sturdy hand shading her eyes like a salute.

  “What isn’t true?” Fiona said.

  “That you cheated on the test in Ms. Quelling’s class.”

  “No, it isn’t true,” Fiona said.

  They both continued to look down at Maggie. Sophie didn’t feel like talking to anyone except Fiona.

  “Just so you know,” Maggie said. “I know the truth.”

  She waited another few seconds, and then shrugged and walked away.

  “I guess we weren’t that nice to her,” Sophie said. She threw her head down on her crossed arms. “I’m too depressed to even play.”

  In math Mrs. Utley gave Sophie a C- and wrote: The grade is a gift for solid improvement. Expect to see more in the future.

  When she handed it to Sophie, Mrs. Utley said to both Fiona and Sophie, “Looks like you’re having some problems in Ms. Quelling’s class.”

  “It isn’t true,” Fiona said. “We don’t cheat.”

  Mrs. Utley surveyed them from within the puffy folds around her eyes. “A little advice then?” she said. “Don’t give anybody a reason to think you do cheat.”

  “Can I still help Sophie in this class?” Fiona said.

  Mrs. Utley wiped her forehead with the side of her hand. “I’m going to let you, at least for the time being.” And then to Sophie’s surprise, she put her plump hand on Sophie’s shoulder. “Just be sure you pay as much attention to me in class as you do to Fiona. Then maybe you won’t need her help so much.” She gave Sophie’s shoulder a warm, damp squeeze. “You’re a smart girl.”

  As the teacher moved slowly off to the next table, Kitty dropped a folded piece of paper in front of Sophie and skittered off.

  “She’s the Corn Pop errand girl,” Fiona whispered. “Don’t open it.”

  “What if it’s an apology note?” Sophie whispered back.

  “Are you insane?” Fiona said. Sophie slipped the note into her backpack. But she forgot about it the minute she climbed into the Suburban after school.

  “How did your day turn out, Dream Girl?” Mama said. “Did you get your C’s?”

  Sophie nodded, although it was hard to even move her head.

  “You don’t seem very happy about it,” Mama said. “This means you’ll get your camera.”

  “Can I go to Dr. Peter today?” Sophie said.

  “Not until tomorrow.” Mama stopped at the stop sign and looked at Sophie. “All right now, you’re scaring me. You look like you just lost your best friend.”

  “I think I’m going to!”

  “Why?” Mama said. She pulled away from the stop sign. Sophie took out the progress report and read Ms. Quelling’s comment out loud. She could hear her voice trailing like a broken strand in a cobweb. Mama all but pulled over onto the side of the road.

  “Sophie,” she said. “What is going on? No, wait till we get home.” Mama put her hand up and pressed the accelerator. She careened into the driveway like a NASCAR driver. Lacie bolted out the front door.

  “Sophie’s social studies teacher called,” she said. “She wants you to bring Sophie straight back to the school—like NOW.”

  Nine

  Sophie felt her heart slamming against her chest. It’s over, she thought.

  Everything is over. Mama didn’t even get out of the car. “We have five minutes,” she said to Sophie as the Suburban sent gravel flying. “So start talking.”

  As the neighborhood went by in a blur, Sophie told Mama everything. When they reached the school parking lot, Mama turned off the ignition and faced Sophie squarely across the seat.

  “Look me in t
he eye,” she said. “Did you and Fiona cheat?”

  “No, ma’am,” Sophie said.

  “All right then,” Mama said. “Let’s get this mess straightened out.”

  Mama looked at least three inches taller as she marched up to the school. It made Sophie lift up her own chin and walk fast to keep up. Seeing Fiona in Ms. Quelling’s room when they got there made her feel even stronger. Fiona was sitting calmly next to Boppa at a table, hands in her lap.

  Boppa stood up until Mama had taken a seat. Ms. Quelling was nowhere around.

  “Are you as fired up about this as I am?” Boppa murmured to Mama. He had a tiny red spot at the top of each cheekbone.

  “I feel like a mother bear,” Mama murmured back.

  Fiona grabbed Sophie’s hand under the table and held on.

  It’s all right, Antoinette tried to say with the squeeze of her hand. Not even a council of Loyalists can take us down. We are the patriots in this battle. And we have the Wise Ones to defend us. We are not alone.

  The door from the hallway opened, and Ms. Quelling bustled in and opened her office door. Out came the train of Pops. Julia Cummings. Anne-Stuart Riggins. B.J. Schneider. Willoughby Wiley. Kitty Munford.

  Fiona’s hand gave Sophie’s a clench that clearly said, We’re doomed.

  “May I ask who these ladies are?” Boppa said. He sounded proper, as if he were in a bank.

  “These are the girls who informed me on Friday that Fiona and Sophie had a secret cheating code.”

  The Corn Pops all gazed innocently at Ms. Quelling. All but Kitty, who was swallowing as if she had an elephant stuck in her throat.

  “And you believed them,” Mama said.

  “I listened to both sides,” Ms. Quelling said.

  “And you believed them,” Mama said again.

  Ms. Quelling wafted a hand over the Pops. “I’ve known all of them except Kitty since they were in kindergarten. They’re nice girls.” She cleared her throat. “However, I think it’s possible that they were mistaken this time.”

  Julia’s eyes startled, and she raised her hand halfway. “We aren’t mistaken.”