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CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2

The next day on the way to school Charlotte decided to find Hannah first thing, before classes, and tell her what was going on. Charlotte thought about her best friend as she walked to school, alone. Most of the kids stayed away from Hannah, just as they did from Charlotte. Hannah had a long, thin face, short brown hair, and very sad eyes. She had a dimple in both cheeks and unusually large ears, which all in all, gave her an odd appearance. She was different from the others in lots of ways.

Hannah was a very good artist, but in most other classes, barely passed. Like Charlotte, Hannah spent a lot of time in school daydreaming. In art class she drew huge, fantastic drawings of all kinds of horses, fast ones, slow ones, fierce ones, dappled ponies and old, crippled horses that couldn’t run. The kids said that Hannah was obsessed with horses and even the art teacher, Miss Leley, suggested she try a different subject. Hannah wouldn’t though, or couldn’t. Nothing else seemed to interest her much. No one seemed to understand why.

Charlotte understood though. She felt the same way about music. There were some melodies she loved to sing, had to sing, over and over. Other melodies meant nothing to her. No one could get her to sing them either, no matter how hard they tried. Charlotte loved Hannah’s drawings, thought they were fantastic and beautiful and that Hannah would be a very great artist someday. That really gave Hannah hope. To have even one person who understood her, made all the difference in the world. Hannah stayed close to Charlotte and told her that she was her best friend.

Charlotte had never had a best friend before. She’d had foster sisters and brothers who she’d been close to for a while, until they were taken out of the home and placed somewhere else. Which happened all the time. Foster children weren’t supposed to get too attached to each other, or to the other kids in the families. No matter how many people were around them, from a very young age foster children were on their own. It was a new experience for Charlotte to be able to be close to someone, and Hannah was the perfect one.

As soon as she got to school, Charlotte went straight for the locker room. The bell for classes to begin hadn’t rung yet and she knew Hannah would be there, getting ready. As Charlotte expected, the minute she walked into the locker room, she was there, putting her coat away and gathering her books.

Charlotte ran up to her breathless. “Hannah, Hannah!”

Hannah turned around quickly, looking startled. “What? Is everything alright?”

“No,” Charlotte whispered. She didn’t want anyone else to hear her.

Hannah’s eyes got bigger and sadder. “What’s wrong?” she uttered, helplessly.

“I may not be allowed to stay in my foster home,” Charlotte talked faster. “In a couple days my foster family’s moving to a smaller house at Breighton and Winston.”

Hannah’s face turned white. “Breighton and Winston? It’s scary there.”

“They may not even have room for me,” Charlotte quickly added. “If they take me along, I’ll have to sleep in the attic.”

Hannah’s eyes filled with tears. “This is the worst news I’ve heard, ever,” she breathed. Charlotte knew that things went wrong all the time in Hannah’s home and she was used to it. Hannah’s family wasn’t well off either. They lived in a small run down house at the edge of town, and Hannah was their only child. So, no matter how hard times were for them, still Hannah never would get kicked out of her home.

“There’s more,” Charlotte stepped closer, making sure no one else could possibly hear. She definitely had to be careful. Not only were the kids at this school very unfriendly, they enjoyed gossiping about everyone. If something bad happened to one person, the whole school heard about it in no time at all. Not only that, they laughed about people in the hallways. Charlotte hadn’t been to a school this bad before. So, what happened to her was definitely none of their business. All her life long, her business had only been her own. She wouldn’t allow anyone to find out. So, when the kids asked her questions about her life, she didn’t answer. Why should she?

But Hannah was different. Charlotte felt she could trust her and tell her everything. “There’s more bad news,” Charlotte repeated.

“What else?” Hannah’s voice got lower, as if she couldn’t bear to hear anything worse.

“I’m on probation at my foster home now!”

“What’s probation?” Hannah was truly alarmed.

“I can only stay with my foster family if I obey them one hundred per cent. They’re so mad I came home an hour late last night. There’s not even a fraction of a chance I have left for making a tiny mistake.”

“Everyone makes some kind of mistake,” Hannah uttered, taking a deep breath. “It’s impossible not to make a mistake.”

“But not me,” said Charlotte, “I can’t, or else I’m out!”

Out

, the word hung like a rock thrown into the air between them.

“Where will you go?” asked Hannah then, trembling slightly, as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“I never know in advance,” said Charlotte. “Usually they send me from one foster family to another. But, I’m getting older now. This won’t look good. They may stop finding new homes for me.”

Hannah reached out her hands immediately. “You can come live with me and my family,” she offered without another thought. “I’m sure my parents will say okay.”

Charlotte was flooded with sudden joy. Was it possible that someone really wanted to take her in? “Are you sure?” she said.

“Positive,” Hannah was definite. “We don’t have much room, but I’m an only child, and my mother’s always said she wanted another daughter.”

“It doesn’t matter about room,” Charlotte said, “I’m happy to sleep on the floor.”

The locker room was filling up now, with kids piling in before the opening bell. It was getting noisier, with everyone laughing and talking, waving at each other and throwing things.

Charlotte’s voice rose a little so Hannah could hear her over the din.

“You’d better check with your parents though,” she said.

“Of course, I will,” Hannah replied, as someone threw a spitball directly over her head.

“Hey what are you two talking about?” a tall, lanky boy with a big jaw, James, edged closer to them. He was a popular kid but also part of the gang of bullies who hung out in the courtyard after school. Everyone knew that James always had to be head honcho. It made him nervous not to be in charge. He didn’t like it when two people were close and he didn’t know what was going on.

Now, James came over and walked directly in between Charlotte and Hannah. Then he leaned his elbow hard on Charlotte’s shoulder.

Charlotte pulled away. It hurt.

“You guys telling secrets?” James asked, leering in Charlotte’s face, keeping his elbow right where it was.

Charlotte suddenly felt like throwing up. “Maybe,” she “answered, snippy, “what’s it to you?”

“What’s it to me? You got to be kidding?” James face grew dark.

“Let’s get out of here, Charlotte, let’s go,” Hannah said, pale and terrified, grabbing her stuff and taking off down the hall.

Charlotte stood right where she was though, slowly pulling James’s elbow off her shoulder.

He took a step closer though and dug his elbow right back into Charlotte’s other shoulder.

She yanked it off again, shook her hair off her face, and glowered at him.

“You got a problem with me getting too close to you?” James asked, his eyes starting to squint at her. “You got a problem with the boys? That’s why you wear those old, ugly raggy clothes to school every day?”

Charlotte’s eyes stung with tears, but she’d never give him the benefit of knowing that he hurt her. She wouldn’t let him see.

“What kind of nutty girl wears clothes like that?” James went on, looking her up and down. “Wonder what’s underneath that stupid dress? The other guys wonder it, too. Maybe we’ll find out one day soon.”

Charlotte shivered from head to foot. She’d been threatened before, but never like this. For a second she was even glad to be covered in something old, ugly, torn and loose.

“What’s underneath? What’s underneath?” James started mocking.

“You’ll never find out,” Charlotte hissed suddenly, intense heat and rage rising inside of her.

“Oh no? Says who?” James’s eyes got brighter, enjoying the challenge and fear in her eyes.

Thankfully, the warning bell for the beginning of classes clanged out then. The kids had only five more minutes to gather their things and get to their classes. Charlotte wouldn’t have to see James again until her second class that morning, English. She went to her locker then to gather her notebooks.

But James drew closer behind. “Did you hear what I said to you, or not, crazy lady?” he asked.

Charlotte yanked open her locker and took out her books. She knew she had to ignore him, pretend he wasn’t there, that he hadn’t threatened and insulted her.

“Everyone thinks you’re weird,” he muttered in her ear. “You dress like a rag picker, don’t answer questions and are friends with someone like Hannah!”

Charlotte wanted to turn around and fiercely defend both herself and Hannah. “Look who’s talking!” she answered in a razor like tone.

Startled, James jumped back a second.

“I’m warning you, stay away from me,” Charlotte felt an odd strength grip her.

James just laughed in a mocking tone and came a step closer. Then he put his big, sweaty hands around her waist, and started moving them higher.

It was too much! Charlotte couldn’t let this happen. He’d stepped over an edge and she felt filled with shame. Charlotte could not hold back another second. She spun on her heel and glared at him. Then she let out a swift, high pitched laugh, a silver shout, like the sound of lightening. It ran up both their spines.

Suddenly, James was flung back a few feet back, as if blown by a huge wind. Shocked, he clutched his hands to his sides.

“What was that? What happened?” His eyes were wide with terror.

Charlotte let out the high, fierce, silvery sound again, and then it looked as though he was about to crumple.

“You’re a freak. You’re a monster,” he gasped, falling back against the wall. “I should have known it, I should have known.”

Another warning bell clanged out then, the last one before classes were set to begin.

“Get up and go to your class,” Charlotte commanded, a powerful strength, rippling through her voice.

James suddenly stood tall, his eyes filled with terror.

Charlotte pointed her finger for emphasis. “Go!” she repeated, “this minute! Be gone!”

“Rape, rape,” the kids in school soon were whispering like locusts all over the hallways. “Charlotte is accusing James of rape.”

Of course it wasn’t true. She wasn’t accusing him of anything at all. She’d just done what she had to, taken care of herself. But frightened for his life, James took the initiative and told all the kids he’d done nothing at all, that Charlotte was crazy, and was accusing him of rape. It’s her way of getting attention, he said.

Miss Griven, the principal of the school, who had streaked grey hair, heard about it in no time. So did Mr. Fielding, who couldn’t believe a word.

Miss Griven called James into her office, writing everything he said down on a long, yellow pad. James knew that the last thing Miss Griven wanted was the state authorities snooping around, listening to these stories, checking everything out.

“Charlotte’s a freak and she’s lonely,” James said to Miss Griven, the minute he sat down. “She’s the one who approached me.”

Miss Griven wrote more quickly.

“She’s a foster kid who goes from home to home,” James continued. “No one keeps her for long and there’s a reason for it. In my opinion, we should kick her out of here, too. Or else she’ll make real trouble for everyone.”

Miss Griven stopped writing for a moment and raised her thin eyebrows. She clearly took everything he said seriously. What reason would he have to be lying to her?

“For a young man you certainly see many angles to a situation,” Miss Griven finally said to James.

James liked that. He cracked a smile. “Thank you,” he said. It wasn’t hard for him to get her under his thumb. James had a gift for making people believe him and take his side. Except, of course, that crazy Charlotte. Why should she be allowed to stay at the school after she treated him the way she did? Besides, something strange had definitely happened in the locker room, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. She’d slammed him into the wall, though he had no idea how. It didn’t make sense to him, but he didn’t want it happening again.

“There isn’t one reason Charlotte should stay in this school,” James continued, more confident than ever.

Miss Griven tapped her pencil on her desk. “We can’t just dismiss a child like that,” she murmured.

“Charlotte’s not a child, she’s a weirdo,” James quickly added. “She doesn’t fit in. Not one person likes her. And, do you notice the strange clothes she wears?”

Miss Griven looked a bit shocked by that. “No, I hadn’t noticed,” she murmured, “but what has that to do with anything?”

“They’re baggy and ugly like a homeless person,” James went on.

“James, you must feel sympathy for homeless people,” Miss Griven’s eyes opened wide.

James snickered under his breath. “Besides, Charlotte’s aggressive,” he quickly continued. “When I refused to get close to her, she slammed me against the wall.”

Miss Griven’s breath started coming more quickly. “That’s hard to imagine,” she exclaimed.

Just at that moment, though, there was a knock on her office her.

“Who is it?” she asked in a voice somewhat trembly.

“Mr. Fielding, may I come in?”

“Certainly, come in,” Miss Griven seemed relieved.

Mr. Fielding, the tall, heavy set, music teacher with a huge moustache and balding head walked into the office somberly. He stood before Miss Griven, glanced over at James, and sighed.

“I am here to stand up for Charlotte Tweed,” Mr. Fielding said in his deep, resonant tone.

“Why?” James stood up and turned to him.

“Charlotte told me that she never accused James of rape,” Mr. Fielding spoke somberly. “It’s only ugly rumors floating around.”

“Rumors start from somewhere,” Miss Griven responded. “Something obviously took place, though we’re not exactly sure what.”

“Charlotte also said that James was the one who was aggressive with her,” Mr. Fielding reported, unruffled.

“James, aggressive?” Miss Griven now looked alarmed.

“It’s a lie, it’s a lie!” James stood, furious. “Charlotte has Mr. Fielding wrapped around her little finger.”

“Preposterous,” Mr. Fielding said. “Charlotte is a lovely, young, talented woman. Very talented in my opinion.”

“She’s crazy and dangerous,” James insisted.

Just then a gigantic bell started to clang, announcing a FIRE DRILL! All the kids had to line up and file out of the building.

“Oh dear, oh dear,” gasped Miss Griven. “Highly irregular. There isn’t a Fire Drill scheduled today.”

“Someone could have pulled the cord to create a commotion – a false fire drill,” James broke right in.

“Or, there could actually be a fire, “Mr. Fielding’s voice grew more bombastic.

“I’d bet my bottom dollar there isn’t a fire!” James seemed delighted. “This has to be Charlotte getting back at everyone. I told you, I warned you. Who knows what she’ll do next?”

“Go back to your room, James! I’ll take everything you said into account,” Miss Griven stood up swiftly.

“Okay,” said James, starting to go.

“Stay where you are,” Mr. Fielding intercepted. “If there is no fire and this is not a regular drill, something highly vicious is going on.”

“It could just be a prank, James could be right,” Miss Griven replied in a thin voice, as the bell kept clanging.

“If this is a prank, Charlotte did not do it,” Mr. Fielding stared at James. “She could not have rung the alarm by mistake. She and I were just talking in my office. She was nowhere near the fire alarm cord.”

“Who did it, then?” James took a step closer to him.

“You tell me,” Mr. Fielding confronted him, face to face.

“Prank or not the alarm is ringing and we must obey it,” Miss Griven did not want to consider the matter further now. “We must go out and join the students in the hallways.”

James immediately headed to the door with Miss Griven. “You’re right. We’d better get out of here fast,” he declared. “For all we know, Charlotte has actually set fire to the school.”

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