The French Girl Read online

“I’m quite sure,” Eppy said. “Remember, I’m the doctor. We’ll check it again in a few weeks. Eat whatever Giselle asks you to and you’ll be fine. Now the only other thing we need to do is get your immunizations up to date. The records they gave you,” she said speaking to Giselle, “are a bit incomplete. She’ll need a quick booster to enroll in the school.”

  Giselle glanced anxiously at me. “But I thought…” she said pulling me closer to her. “I told her…”

  “It will be just a quick pinch, Etoile,” she said as she took a long needle from a tray.

  “Oh, Eppy, does she have to have that today? I told her she did not…”

  “She does to get into school. They can’t let her in without record of her immunizations being up-to-date. Come on, Etoile; let’s roll up that sleeve…”

  “Eppy, is there anyway…”

  Eppy stopped, looked at Giselle and laughed. “Etoile, do you see what’s happening here?”

  I shook my head.

  “Your cousin is afraid, but I bet you are very brave. Maybe you need to hold Giselle’s hand while I give you this.”

  “Oh Eppy, please,” Giselle said as I grabbed onto her hand. Before she could protest further, I felt a small pinch.

  “There, all done. Do you think you’ll be alright now?” she asked turning to Giselle. Giselle looked a little pale around the mouth. She nodded.

  Eppy laughed and rubbed my head. “You must take good care of Giselle now, okay Etoile? Let’s hope she never needs a shot.” Eppy began to wash her hands at the sink. “Are we still on for Saturday night?”

  “I told Carol I am going to have to check with Jean. We did not expect…” she began.

  “Of course. Just let us know.” Shaking my hand, she said, “Etoile, it was so nice to meet you. Take good care of Giselle, alright?”

  “I will,” I said.

  ***

  I liked this Eppy. Jew or no Jew, I liked the way she asked me to take care of Giselle. I never had anyone else to take care of before. I thought for a minute about how Anais used to take care of Maman when she could not get out of bed, but this was somehow different. I did not think I would ever need to care for Giselle like Anais had to care for Maman.

  “So what did you think of Eppy?” Giselle asked as we drove away.

  “I like her a lot.”

  “Good.”

  ***

  Giselle tapped the folder of papers in the palm of her hand over and over while we waited. Unlike the school in Cote Nouveau, this school was very modern looking with walls that were colorfully painted. There were several displays along the walls opposite the principals’ office including “Student of the Month” which was all about a girl named, “Winnie Wickham,” and a “Can You Dig It,” display about pyramids. A picture of President Carter was framed with a sign that read “Our Thirty-Eighth President” below it mounted next to a flag.

  An older woman dressed in a blue jumper came in. Her hair was mostly white. The buttons going up and down the front of her jumper were shaped like crayons, pens and pencils.

  “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Mrs. Darby, the principal.”

  She shook both of our hands.

  “Welcome, Etoile,” she said. “What a lovely name. French, is it?”

  “Yes,” Giselle answered for me.

  “And you are Mrs. Toussaint?”

  “No, I am her cousin, Giselle Simone. I have temporary guardianship of Etoile.”

  The woman glanced quickly at the papers Giselle handed her and nodded. “I see. Very nice to meet you, Mrs…

  “Ms.”

  “Ms. Simone. I understand you would like to enroll Etoile in our school.”

  “Yes. The caseworker said it was important that her school year not be interrupted.”

  “I agree. That is very important. Do you have any idea how long she’ll be staying with you?”

  Giselle gave me an anxious glance. “We do not know for certain, but I know it will be for at least the remainder of the school year.”

  This was news to me. Giselle quickly looked away from me and turned back to the woman.

  “Very well. We’ll need to do some testing to make sure she is placed correctly and get some baseline assessments.” Turning to me, she said, “Don’t worry at all, Etoile, these are some very fun tests that I think you’ll enjoy to make sure we put you in the most appropriate class.”

  “When will you do that?” Giselle asked.

  The woman glanced at her watch. “If you have time, we can do it right now.”

  Another woman, Mrs. Blakely, took me into a room with a big computer in one corner, and a long table in the other. She was very friendly and asked me about my school in Cote Nouveau.

  I do not know how long we were in the room. She passed me booklet after booklet filled with questions on all different subjects. I struggled with the math part, but the reading questions were very simple. As I finished each booklet, the woman typed quickly into the computer. She also had me finish some half-drawn pictures of objects and place several puzzles together. Finally, the printer whirred as long sheets of paper spit out. Folding the stack of papers up like an accordion, she brought me back to Mrs. Darby’s office. As we approached the door, I heard Giselle speaking with Mrs. Darby.

  “I have not had a chance to tell her everything, but my biggest concern is that she not be ostracized in any way because of…”

  The woman, Mrs. Blakely, cleared her throat loudly and handed the papers over to Mrs. Darby.

  Giselle smiled and took my hand. “How did it go?” she asked.

  “It was fine.”

  “Well!” Mrs. Darby said as she flipped through the pages. “It looks like we have a scholar on our hands.” Glancing up, she nodded to me. “Etoile is actually several grade levels ahead in reading.” Giselle smiled and squeezed my hand. “And she’s just slightly behind in math, but I’m not at all concerned about that. A strong reader can often compensate in many ways.”

  Mrs. Blakely returned with a sheet and handed it to Mrs. Darby.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Blakely,” she said as she glanced up and down the sheet. “Very well, then, Etoile. We’re going to place you in Mrs. Spenser’s class. All of the fifth graders love her. She has a very strong reading program that hopefully, will keep you challenged.”

  “When would she start?” Giselle asked.

  “She’s welcome to start tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow!” Giselle answered, glancing anxiously at me. “But she just came to me yesterday.”

  “I understand,” Mrs. Darby said, “but trust me that from my experience, it’s better for the student to get back into a routine as quickly as possible. For you and for her…” She glanced at the forms Giselle had filled out. “I will notify the bus company this afternoon and they’ll put your address on the route. She’ll have to wait at the end of the road.”

  “Yes, but tomorrow...” Giselle said again shaking her head. “I did not think it would be so soon.” She bit her lower lip and looked at me. “What do you think, Cherie? Could you do this tomorrow?”

  I shrugged my shoulders because I did not want to do this tomorrow anymore than I wanted to do it on Monday or the day after that but it did not seem to matter.

  Mrs. Darby glanced at her watch and stood up. “Why don’t we take a walk down and I’ll introduce you? We’ll catch the class just before they head out for lunch.”

  I stayed very close to Giselle as we walked down the long corridor to the fifth grade wing. A thin band of cork in a silver frame ran along the entire edge of the hallway and all along, papers, drawing and projects were stapled to it.

  Mrs. Darby paused at the door to a classroom and peered in the small window. She waited a few seconds before knocking and opening the door. A black woman, who was standing at a blackboard, stopped and smiled.

  “Please, come in,” the woman said.

  The entire class fell into silence as Giselle and I stepped in.

  “Excuse the interruption
, Mrs. Spenser,” Mrs. Darby said, “but I’d like to introduce your class to a new student. Her name is Etoile Toussaint and she’ll be starting tomorrow.”

  Surely this could not be right. I had never met a black teacher before. The only black people I knew were Mr. and Mrs. Jackson who helped out at Lamont’s dry cleaners back in Cote Nouveau. They worked only in the back and lived in a tiny apartment above the store. Maman once said that if les noirs were in the front, no one would go in. Maman also said that they only reason people went to Lamont’s, la chèvre avare, the stingy goat, in the first place was because he was the only one who was able to get the smell of fish off of things.

  Mrs. Spenser came over and offered her hand to me. I could not help but stare at the contrast of her brown skin and her white nails for a second or two. I had never seen a black person’s hand up close before. I suddenly felt Giselle nudging me from behind. Glancing up at her, she flashed her eyes at me towards Mrs. Spenser. I shook Mrs. Spenser’s hand. It felt very smooth and for some reason, that surprised me. I could not imagine what Maman would have said had she been standing there watching me touch a black woman.

  “Welcome, Etoile,” she said. “What a lovely French name. And is this your mother?” she asked offering her hand to Giselle.

  Giselle smiled and shook Mrs. Spenser’s hand. “Actually, I am her cousin, Giselle Simone. Etoile will be living with me.”

  I did not bother to correct Giselle because I did not want to be rude.

  A bell rang. The students all stood up.

  “Have a wonderful lunch, Children,” Mrs. Spenser yelled out as they shuffled quickly out the door. “Would you like to stay and look around the classroom for a few minutes?”

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Mrs. Darby said, “I need to get down to the cafeteria for duty.”

  Turning to Giselle and me, she said, “It was so nice meeting you both. Feel free to call my office if you have any questions or concerns. I know you’ll enjoy it here, Etoile.”

  I nodded and strolled around looking at the classroom. On one wall was a poster on “The English Colonies” with a map of New Hampshire and Maine. Below it was a sign that said, “The New Government.” My eyes ventured to a wall of built-in shelves filled with books including Little Lord Fauntleroy, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, Rebecca, All Creatures Great and Small and several different, but well-worn copies of Anne of Green Gables.

  “Do you enjoy reading, Etoile?” Mrs. Spenser asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Mrs. Darby just said she tested several grade levels ahead,” Giselle quickly added and I felt a funny feeling, but a good feeling, in my stomach when she said it.

  “Excellent. As you can see, I have many books for you to borrow. We also have a wonderful library. In fact, we have library tomorrow as our special, so you will get a chance to see it then.”

  “Is there anything she will need to bring?” Giselle asked.

  “Pencil, pens, a book bag and lunch or lunch money,” Mrs. Spenser said. “We’ll supply everything else.”

  I looked all around the classroom and it seemed so much bigger than my class back in Cote Nouveau, with its sparse shelves and flaking walls. But thinking about Cote Nouveau made me realize that I knew every single student back there and here, I would not know anyone. My stomach shifted a little.

  Giselle touched Mrs. Spenser on the arm. “Her stomach sometimes gets upset.”

  “Oh?” Mrs. Spenser asked.

  “She just had a checkup and she’s very healthy, but sometimes when things upset her…”

  “I’m glad you told me,” Mrs. Spenser said. “Come here, Etoile,” she said. I followed her over to her desk and she took out a piece of heavy yellow construction paper and cut it in half. She took one half and folded it and handed it to me. I tried not to stare at her hands as she handed it to me, but they were so different from any hands I had ever seen before. She led me to an empty desk near the door.

  “This will be your desk beginning tomorrow,” she said. “I want you to keep that card in your desk at all times and should you ever feel that your stomach is going to get upset, just take the yellow card out and place it on top of the desk. I will see it and let you go immediately to the nurse’s office. That’s Mrs. Whitham’s office. She is a very nice lady. That way the other students will not know. Will that work for you?”

  I looked at the yellow card and nodded. I thought back to Mrs. Gordon and the times my stomach had felt upset and tried so hard to hold it in while I tried to get her attention and how sometimes, the other students would laugh at me which would make it all worse. Then I thought of Frankie Lavasseur calling me “Toilette Toussaint” and thought perhaps it would be better to start somewhere new where I was not known.

  “Etoile?” I heard Giselle say.

  “Yes,” I said. “Thank you.”

  ***

  We got back to Stone Cottage and Giselle glanced at the clock in the kitchen. “You must be hungry…and perhaps tired, non?”

  “A little, but…”

  “We will eat a quick lunch and you can take a nap or a bath if you like.”

  “But Giselle?”

  Giselle pulled out a wrapped bag of cheese from the refrigerator and some tomatoes and some leftover bread. “Yes, Cherie?” she said as she took out a pan and melted butter in it.

  “You said you would tell me about Anais today.”

  Giselle sliced the cheese and tomatoes onto the bread and placed them very gently into the pan.

  “So I did,” she said without a pause, “but today is not over yet and there is still much work to be done. We must make sure you are ready for tomorrow morning.”

  “But Giselle…” I protested.

  “Vitement. Quickly,” she said, “run upstairs and wash your hands and your face and I will have lunch ready for you when you come down. Oh dear,” she said looking around. “We will need to pack your lunch for tomorrow.”

  “I could just buy lunch in the cafeteria,” I said.

  “Hmph!” Giselle said, “I will not hear of you eating that food.”

  “But I am sure it is better than the food in Cote Nouveau. The school looks much newer and…”

  “I will not hear of it. You will take a good lunch, a healthy lunch with you. Remember what Eppy said, you must gain some weight.”

  “Giselle?”

  “Yes?” she said as she took a spatula and turned the slices over revealing a golden brown side.

  I wanted to tell her what Maman had called me. I wanted to ask her if she knew why Maman would have said such a thing, but somehow I felt like I would be getting Maman in trouble. I didn’t know if it was possible to get dead people in trouble or if it mattered or not, but when I went to say it, the words would not come out.

  “What is it, Cherie?” Giselle asked, studying me.

  “Can I use my special soap?” I could not think of what else to say.

  Giselle crinkled her eyes. “Of course. You do not have to ask for that.”

  After lunch, Giselle came up to my room and together we went through all of the clothes hanging in the closet.

  “How about this?” she asked pulling out a pink blouse and pink floral skirt.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess.”

  “Too much pink for the first day,” she said making a small clicking sound in her mouth. “What about this?” she said grabbing a white blouse and a plaid blue and tan skirt.

  “Fine.”

  She grabbed the clothes.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I am going to iron them,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Because you must look neat and presentable for your first day. And while we are at it,” she said as she reached behind me and pulled my hair back, “I have an idea.” She led me to the mirror over the dresser. “How would you feel about a quick trim? Nothing too drastic, just a little off the ends to get rid of some of those tangles.”

  “But there will not be time,” I said. “S
urely the beauty parlor is not open this late and it would be expensive.”

  Giselle laughed. “Cherie, this beauty parlor is always open. Come with me.”

  Giselle wet my hair in the big kitchen sink, then sat me down on a tall stool while she took out a pair of scissors and a comb.

  “You have done this before, yes?” I asked nervously.

  She laughed. “Of course. Who do you think cuts mine and Jean’s hair?”

  “You cut Jean’s hair?” I wasn’t so sure this was such a good idea anymore.

  “Yes, but she likes it short. I will not make yours short,” she said.

  “Can you tell me about Anais while you are cutting?” I asked.

  She stopped and put her finger to my chin.

  “Would you like me to concentrate on your hair so I don’t make any mistakes or would you like to talk about Anais and come out looking like un coq fatigué, a tired rooster?”

  I could not help but laugh.

  Giselle cut my hair with the same intensity as when she cooked or set the table. She studied my face intently turning it back and forth before cutting here and there. It seemed to me that there was a lot more hair than I expected on the floor and I was almost afraid to think of what I would look like until she stood back, nodded to herself and announced, “Voilà. Now go up and tell me what you think.”

  She gave me a gentle swat on the fanny as I climbed the stairs. I went into the bathroom that had the bigger mirror and squinted my eyes a little, so afraid was I to see what she had done. But then I unsquinted them when I saw the image staring back at me. My long, matted hair fell softly in cascades of curls around my face. I never knew my hair could be so curly. It looked very grown up. And it looked just like Giselle’s.

  “Giselle! Giselle!” I said racing down the stairs. But Giselle was not in the kitchen. “Giselle!” I called again.

  “I am out here, Cherie,” I heard her call back. I had never noticed the small door at the back of the kitchen before. I stepped out into a large back porch whose walls were lined with knotted pine planks. The wood smelled wonderful giving the whole room a rich, smoky scent. One of the walls was lined with shelves filled with bottles and jars. One of the walls abutted the kitchen and had a small sink and counter. The other wall was filled with windows that looked out onto the gardens. A large easel stood between the windows. A canvas with a garden scene was propped on it. A well-worn green couch was set behind the easel looking out the windows.