"I'm afraid," I said, "afraid of the stories she'll make up."
"I want to see the magic pond," Eugenia suddenly declared with a surprising burst of energy. "Please. Please take me. Have Niles take me, too."
"Mamma wouldn't let me and Papa doesn't want me going places with boys unchaperoned."
"We won't tell them. We'll just go," she said. I sat back smiling.
"Why, Eugenia Booth," I said, imitating Louella, "just listen to how you talk."
I couldn't remember a time Eugenia had suggested doing something Mamma or Papa would consider naughty.
"If Papa finds out, I'll tell him I was your chaperon."
"You know it has to be an adult," I said.
"Oh please, Lillian. Please," she begged, and tugged my sleeve. "Tell Niles," she whispered. "Tell him to meet us there . . . this Saturday, okay?"
I was surprised and amused by Eugenia's pleading. Nothing lately—not the arrival of new clothing, or new games, not Louella's promise to make her favorite cookies or cakes---nothing filled her with interest or excitement anymore. Even my taking her in the wheelchair around the plantation to see all that was happening no longer delighted her. This was the first time in a long time that she cared about anything to the extent that she would battle back the debilitating illness that had imprisoned her in her own fragile little body. I couldn't refuse, nor did I want to, despite Papa's warnings and threats. Nothing thrilled me as much as the thought of going back to the magic pond with Niles.
The next day on the way to school, Niles couldn't help but notice the ice in Emily's eyes. She didn't say anything to him, but she watched me like a hawk. All I could say to him was "Good morning," and then keep walking at Emily's side. He walked with his sisters and we both avoided each other's eyes. Later, at lunch, while Emily was occupied with a chore Miss Walker had given her, I slipped beside Niles and told him what Emily had done.
"I'm sorry I got you in trouble," Niles said.
"It's all right," I said. Then I told him about Eugenia's wish. His eyes widened with surprise and a small smile formed around his lips.
"You would do that, even after what happened?" he asked. His eyes turned softer, meeting and locking with mine as I went on and on about how important it was to Eugenia.
"I'm sorry she's so sick. It's cruel," he said.
"Of course, I'd like to go there again, too," I added quickly. He nodded.
"All right, I'll wait near your house Saturday afternoon and we'll take her. What time?"
"After lunch, I often take her for a walk. About two o'clock," I said, and our rendezvous was set. A few moments later, Emily appeared and Niles moved away quickly to talk to some boys. Emily glared at me so hard, I had to look down, but I still could feel her eyes on the back of my neck. That afternoon, and each afternoon until the end of the week, I walked alongside Emily on the way home and Niles remained between his sisters. We barely spoke and rarely looked at each other. Emily seemed satisfied.
As Saturday afternoon drew closer, Eugenia grew more and more excited. She talked of nothing else.
"What if it rains?" she moaned. "Oh, I would die if it rains and I had to wait another week."
"It won't rain; it won't dare," I told her with such confidence, she beamed. Even Mamma remarked at dinner that Eugenia's color was much improved. She told Papa that one of the new medicines the doctors prescribed might be working miraculously. Papa nodded, silently as usual, but Emily looked suspicious. Of course, I felt her watching me all the time and even imagined her peeking into my room late at night to see if I was asleep.
On Friday, after school, she stepped into my room while I was changing clothes. Emily came to my room almost as rarely as Papa did. I couldn't remember a time we played together, and when I was smaller and she was asked to look after me, she always took me to her room and made me sit quietly in the corner coloring or playing with a doll while she read. I was never allowed to touch any of her things, not that I ever wanted to. Her room was dreary and dark with the curtains almost always drawn. Instead of pictures on her walls, she had crosses and her letters of achievement from the minister at Sunday School. She never had a doll or a game and she hated bright clothes.
I was in the bathroom when she came to my room. I had just taken off my skirt and I was standing in front of the mirror in my brassiere and panties, brushing my hair down. Mamma always had me pin it up in the morning for school and it felt good at the end of the day to unfasten the strands and brush them until they lay softly over my shoulders. I was proud of my hair; it was almost midway down my back.
Emily had come into my room so quietly, I didn't know she was there until she appeared in the bathroom door. I turned with a start and caught her staring at me. For a moment I thought her eyes were green with envy, but that look quickly changed to one of disapproval.
"What do you want?" I demanded. She continued to gaze at me without speaking for a moment, her eyes drinking in my body. What she thought made her draw the corners of her mouth in.
"You should wear a tighter brassiere," she finally declared. "Your little breasts bounce too much when you walk and anyone can see all you've got, just like Shirley Potter," she said, smirking.
Shirley Potter's family was the poorest we knew. Shirley had to wear hand-me-downs and some were too tight and some were too big. She was two years older than I was, and the way the boys would spin their heads around to peek down her blouse whenever she bent over was a favorite topic for Emily and the Thompson twins.
"Mamma bought this for me," I replied. "It's my size."
"It's too loose," she insisted and then nearly smiled and added, "I know you let Niles Thompson put his fingers in there when you were in the woods with him, didn't you? And I bet it wasn't the first time either."
"No, I didn't, and you shouldn't have told Papa I was buttoning my blouse when I came out of the woods."