Black and Blue Ivy

The Schoolroom

For the next few days, I saw little of Bentley. Every morning, like clockwork, Angela, the older children's teacher, would arrive to whisk them away to the playroom on the second floor. I would inevitably be left alone with Tammy and Timmy, helping them with their breakfast until Gardenia would arrive to take care of them. I avoided Mrs. Roche's stern glares as much as possible. I don't know why she took such a disliking to me, but I tried not to take it personally. One morning, over coffee, I decided to ask Gardenia about what plans were in place for my schooling. Tammy and Timmy were quietly stuffing their faces with French toast, and Gardenia, dressed in a beige angora sweater that seemed to leech the color from her cheeks, was holding her ceramic coffee cup in the air, staring off into space at the dining room table.

"What did you say, Ivy?" she asked.

"I was wondering about school."

Her eyelashes fluttered as if she didn't comprehend what I was saying.

"I'm only fifteen, you know."

"Yes. I know, dear. And your sweet sixteen birthday is coming up." She smiled indulgently. "Is that why you're bringing this up? Don't worry." She reached across the table to give my hand a gentle pat. "We will be having a little celebration here at home. We're so happy you're part of the family."

Her little speech sounded rehearsed, and once it was dispatched, she returned to her coffee. A plate of food sat untouched before her.

"I'm only a minor," I said. "I need to be in school, don't I?"

She turned toward me with a bland smile as if she couldn't be bothered. "Of course, dear. Your education is vital. We were just giving you time to adjust. I've enrolled you in a home school program."

Home school? My heart sank with disappointment. After the small taste of freedom I experienced on my outing with Bentley, I was looking forward to getting out of Providence House, at least for a few hours each day. As luxurious as the surroundings were, there was something oppressive about the atmosphere, as if I were a flower trapped inside a greenhouse, nourished but still lacking direct sunlight and fresh air. I had hoped to make a fresh start at a new school, meet kids my own age, and maybe make some friends.

"I can show you the study I set up for you if you'd like." Gardenia set down her coffee cup, pushed back her chair, and ran her hands down the creases in her beige wool slacks. "I'd plan to start all this in a few days, but since you're anxious to start, let's go."

"All right." I rose and followed her out the door.

Her heeled ankle boots padded softly along carpeted corridors. I was wearing one of the matching skirts, blouse, and sweater combinations and feeling awkward in it. Today's version was a pale, mint green. As I followed Gardenia's cloud of flowery perfume down the hall, I thought about how much she lived in a fantasy world. Bentley had filled me in on some of what made her tick. I could understand why she adopted the younger kids as babies. They would help fill the void that was missing in her life. But why take me, a teenager, as a foster child? It didn't make much sense, especially considering how little she seemed to notice me.

Halfway down the dim corridor leading to the kitchen, Gardenia paused and ran her hand along the darkly-stained paneling. "Ah, here we are." She flipped up a brass lever that I hadn't noticed before and pulled open a hidden door with a hard tug.

"That's weird," I said.

"Weird?"

"It's like a secret chamber or something?"

Gardenia's laugh tinkled like a bell. "The original owner had a whimsey about him. He was an amateur architect, among other things, and enjoyed creating all sorts of hidden spaces. It's one of the things that gives Providence House its charm."