“We want you children to learn how to live with people different from you. Bunking with girls you already like won’t build character. Anyway, the point is, I can’t make new arrangements until tomorrow; I’m busy today. So I want to know if I can trust you to spend the night alone in your current room.”
“Trust me?” Laura asked in confusion.
“Tell me the truth, young lady. Can I trust you alone tonight?”
Laura could not figure what trouble the social worker anticipated from a child left alone for one night. Perhaps she expected Laura to barricade herself in the room so effectively that police would have to blast the door, disable her with tear gas, and drag her out in chains.
Laura was as insulted as she was confused. “Sure, I’ll be okay. I’m not a baby. I’ll be fine.”
“Well … all right. You’ll sleep by yourself tonight, but we’ll make other arrangements tomorrow.”
After leaving Mrs. Bowmaine’s colorful office for the drab hallways, climbing the stairs to the third floor, Laura suddenly thought: the White Eel! Sheener would know she was going to be alone tonight. He knew everything that went on at McIlroy, and he had keys, so he could return in the night. Her room was next to the north stairs, so he could slip out of the stairwell into her room, overpower her in seconds. He’d club her or drug her, stuff her in a burlap sack, take her away, lock her in a cellar, and no one would know what had happened to her.
She turned at the second-floor landing, descended the stairs two at a time, and rushed back toward Mrs. Bowmaine’s office, but when she turned the corner into the front hall, she nearly collided with the Eel. He had a mop and a wringer-equipped bucket on wheels, which was filled with water reeking of pine-scented
cleanser.
He grinned at her. Maybe it was only her imagination, but she was certain that he already knew she would be alone that night.
She should have stepped by him, gone to Mrs. Bowmaine, and begged for a change in the night’s sleeping arrangements. She could not make accusations about Sheener, or she would wind up like Denny Jenkins—disbelieved by the staff, tormented relentlessly by her nemesis—but she could have found an acceptable excuse for her change of mind.
She also considered rushing at him, shoving him into his bucket, knocking him on his butt, and telling him that she was tougher than him, that he had better not mess with her. But he was different from the Teagels. Mike, Flora, and Hazel were small-minded, obnoxious, ignorant, but comparatively sane. The Eel was insane, and there was no way of knowing how he would react to being knocked flat.
As she hesitated, his crooked, yellow grin widened.
A flush touched his pale cheeks, and Laura realized it might be a flush of desire, which made her nauseous.
She walked away, dared not run until she had climbed the stairs and was out of his sight. Then she sprinted for the Ackersons’ room.
“You’ll sleep here tonight,” Ruth said.
“Of course,” Thelma said, “you’ll have to stay in your room until they finish the bed check, then sneak down here.”
From her corner where she was sitting in bed doing math homework, Rebecca Bogner said, “We’ve only got four beds.”
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Laura said.
“This is against the rules,” Rebecca said.
Thelma made a fist and glowered at her.
“Okay, all right,” Rebecca agreed. “I never said / didn’t want her to stay. I just pointed out that it’s against the rules.”
Laura expected Tammy to object, but the girl lay on her back in bed, atop the covers, staring at the ceiling, apparently lost in her own thoughts and uninterested in their plans.
In the oak-paneled dining room, over an inedible dinner of pork chops, gluey mashed potatoes, and leathery green beans—and under the watchful eyes of the Eel—Thelma said, “As for why Bowmaine wanted to know if she could trust you alone . . . she’s afraid you’ll try suicide.”
Laura was incredulous.
“Kids have done it here,” Ruth said sadly. “Which is why they stuff at least two of us into even very small rooms. Being alone too much . . . that’s one of the things that seems to trigger the impulse.”