The Different Girl by Gordon Dahlquist Read Free Book Online

Caroline had found other things on the beach today, but hadn’t told you about them?”
    “Why not?”
    “Because I asked her not to.”
    “Why would you do that?”
    “Can you answer my question first? How would that make you feel?”
    “It would depend on if it’s true.”
    “It is.”
    “Then I don’t understand.”
    “Are there things you haven’t told me?”
    I didn’t know what to say, but finally got to “There are things you haven’t asked.”
    “All right. What haven’t I asked?”
    My eyes were blinking. I was used to guessing why Irene asked questions—because we were learning how to learn—but I didn’t know enough to guess about the girl. Would she go home? Would she join us in the schoolroom? Or, even though Irene told me no, was she going to die after all?
    “About her,” I finally said.
    “Did you go with Isobel into Robbert’s building?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did the girl see you? Think carefully. It’s very important.”
    “She did. She screamed out loud. But when we ran away she didn’t do anything, so maybe she didn’t.”
    Irene nodded, but I was blinking again and she waited for me to finish.
    “Why would she scream?” I asked.
    Irene took a moment to answer. “We don’t know what happened to her, or the people she was with.”
    “The men on the dock?”
    “Possibly. Or other people. Her family.”
    “Why would they teach her to scream?”
    “Not everyone is taught as carefully as you, Veronika.”
    “Why not?”
    “That’s a good question, but it’s for later. Now, if I ask you something, will you promise to do it?”
    “Yes, Irene.”
    “I want you to stay away from Robbert’s building—not even going on the porch.”
    “What about the classroom?”
    “We’ll use the kitchen. Until I say otherwise. This is very important. Do you promise?”
    “Just me, or everyone?”
    “Everyone.”
    “I promise.”
    “Good.” Irene put down her empty cup and picked up a clipboard. She gave it a scowl, because she didn’t want to put on her glasses, then set it back on the table. “Now, let’s talk about why we make decisions.”
    • • •
    Whenever they talked to us alone we tried to decide why. Irene asked me questions for an hour, about my visits to the dock and to the beach, and then about Isobel and me going in to see the girl, especially about whose idea it had been and how we had decided. She never asked more about that afternoon, so I didn’t tell about looking in the window, because since all our talking was questions there wasn’t room. Irene made sure we answered exactly, and she’d repeat a question until we got it right.
    But maybe we’d spent too much time talking about the parrot to forget Robbert’s lesson about looking, because I saw how all of Irene’s questions pointed the same direction—how together they formed a cage and how behind them lay a thing that didn’t need saying to be felt.
    When I stretched out on my cot, I asked Irene where Robbert was sleeping if the girl was in his bed.
    “In the attic of the classroom,” she said. “It won’t be for long.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because it’s only temporary. Now, while you’re asleep I want you think of something.”
    I nodded. Irene often gave us ideas to think about before falling asleep and asked us about them in the morning. Caroline always had an idea. Sometimes the rest of us had things to say, and sometimes we didn’t.
    “I want you to think about all the ways we could use the sailcloth Caroline found. Will you do that?”
    I nodded, but still had my question. “Irene?”
    “Yes, Veronika.”
    “What should we do if she comes to look at us?”
    Irene smiled at me. It was a nice smile, and all the answer I got.
    • • •
    I don’t know why I asked. Maybe at the chance we might get sick as well, that one of us could be tangled up on Robbert’s bed. But the next morning, while we helped with breakfast, I saw Eleanor staring at a floor tile near the door. On purpose I