drinking tea in the small parlor to the right of the lobby. Sister Constance looked up from her knitting and skewered me with her sharp eye.
“Anna Sophia!” her voice boomed. “You are sixteen minutes late for curfew. What do you have to say for yourself?”
I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I threw myself on the floor, wrapped my arms around her legs, and wept all over her latest knitted creation.
“Oh, Sister Constance, it was the most horrible thing I ever saw! Those poor girls!” For many minutes, I couldn’t get out more than that. The stress of the last few days had finally caught up with me. Sister Constance sat stiffly in my embrace, neither touching me nor pulling away. Sister Daphne knelt on the floor and rubbed my back.
“Dear girl, tell us what happened,” she said. “Has someone hurt you?”
“Daphne, don’t coddle her,” Sister Constance snapped. “This is probably just some ploy to get out of punishment for being late.”
“Constance, really! Can’t you see how upset the poor girl is? Now, Anna, you must calm yourself and tell us what happened. Here, take my handkerchief.”
I wiped my eyes with Sister Daphne’s frilly handkerchief; then I took a deep breath. Crying wouldn’t help Mei.
“We… I mean I went to Irvigne Manor to see Mei,” I didn’t want to tell them that Jean-Sébastien had been with me. I had no guarantee that they would believe my story, and I didn’t want to get him into trouble, too. “The house seemed empty, but Mei had promised me she’d be home, so I went inside.”
Okay, I was fibbing here, but I couldn’t tell them that I had walked through walls to get in. Not if I wanted them to hear my story to the end.
“Anyway, no one was there, but then I heard crying from the basement. I went down and found… I found Mei locked up like a prisoner!” I didn’t hold back any details. I told them about the other six children locked in dark cells, the stench of rot, and the frightening torture device sitting in the middle of the room. Most of all, I described the look of sheer despair on Mei’s face.
Sister Daphne looked shocked at my story: Her eyes grew wide as she listened. Sister Constance’s mouth just got thinner and thinner.
“I always knew those upstarts were up to no good,” she said eventually.
“Oh my gosh!” Sister Daphne jumped up and pressed both hands to her cheeks. “Little Beatrice is with them tonight. They’re going to ask her if she wants to be adopted!” She ran out of the room.
I hoped Beatrice would be all right, but I had other girls to worry about too.
Sister Constance glared at me through squinty eyes.
“If this is some trick to get out of curfew, young lady…”
“I promise you, it’s not! Something terrible is happening at Irvigne Manor, and we have to stop it.”
“Very well.” Sister Constance rose and wrapped a black knitted shawl around her shoulders. She picked up her cane and her purse, which looked more like a doctor’s bag, and said, “I guess we should be heading for the police station then.”
----
M y relief that an adult believed my story lasted until I met Constable Ouellette.
The police station was only three blocks from the Collège. Sister Constance and I walked there in silence, past the shops all closed for the evening. My nerves kept jumping. I’d never been part of a police investigation before. I knew I’d have to give a statement, but not much else. The police wouldn’t believe me without proof. That was their job. But the proof would be easy to find. All they had to do was visit the basement of Irvigne Manor.
The station house was brightly lit, though only one officer was on duty. The name tag on his shirt read “Ouellette.” Pale green walls reflected off his swarthy skin, turning it a sickly color. He had bushy eyebrows that I thought would make him look stern even when he smiled. Not that he smiled at us. No, all we got was a fierce frown and a glare.
Luyons is a tiny
“Anna Sophia!” her voice boomed. “You are sixteen minutes late for curfew. What do you have to say for yourself?”
I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I threw myself on the floor, wrapped my arms around her legs, and wept all over her latest knitted creation.
“Oh, Sister Constance, it was the most horrible thing I ever saw! Those poor girls!” For many minutes, I couldn’t get out more than that. The stress of the last few days had finally caught up with me. Sister Constance sat stiffly in my embrace, neither touching me nor pulling away. Sister Daphne knelt on the floor and rubbed my back.
“Dear girl, tell us what happened,” she said. “Has someone hurt you?”
“Daphne, don’t coddle her,” Sister Constance snapped. “This is probably just some ploy to get out of punishment for being late.”
“Constance, really! Can’t you see how upset the poor girl is? Now, Anna, you must calm yourself and tell us what happened. Here, take my handkerchief.”
I wiped my eyes with Sister Daphne’s frilly handkerchief; then I took a deep breath. Crying wouldn’t help Mei.
“We… I mean I went to Irvigne Manor to see Mei,” I didn’t want to tell them that Jean-Sébastien had been with me. I had no guarantee that they would believe my story, and I didn’t want to get him into trouble, too. “The house seemed empty, but Mei had promised me she’d be home, so I went inside.”
Okay, I was fibbing here, but I couldn’t tell them that I had walked through walls to get in. Not if I wanted them to hear my story to the end.
“Anyway, no one was there, but then I heard crying from the basement. I went down and found… I found Mei locked up like a prisoner!” I didn’t hold back any details. I told them about the other six children locked in dark cells, the stench of rot, and the frightening torture device sitting in the middle of the room. Most of all, I described the look of sheer despair on Mei’s face.
Sister Daphne looked shocked at my story: Her eyes grew wide as she listened. Sister Constance’s mouth just got thinner and thinner.
“I always knew those upstarts were up to no good,” she said eventually.
“Oh my gosh!” Sister Daphne jumped up and pressed both hands to her cheeks. “Little Beatrice is with them tonight. They’re going to ask her if she wants to be adopted!” She ran out of the room.
I hoped Beatrice would be all right, but I had other girls to worry about too.
Sister Constance glared at me through squinty eyes.
“If this is some trick to get out of curfew, young lady…”
“I promise you, it’s not! Something terrible is happening at Irvigne Manor, and we have to stop it.”
“Very well.” Sister Constance rose and wrapped a black knitted shawl around her shoulders. She picked up her cane and her purse, which looked more like a doctor’s bag, and said, “I guess we should be heading for the police station then.”
----
M y relief that an adult believed my story lasted until I met Constable Ouellette.
The police station was only three blocks from the Collège. Sister Constance and I walked there in silence, past the shops all closed for the evening. My nerves kept jumping. I’d never been part of a police investigation before. I knew I’d have to give a statement, but not much else. The police wouldn’t believe me without proof. That was their job. But the proof would be easy to find. All they had to do was visit the basement of Irvigne Manor.
The station house was brightly lit, though only one officer was on duty. The name tag on his shirt read “Ouellette.” Pale green walls reflected off his swarthy skin, turning it a sickly color. He had bushy eyebrows that I thought would make him look stern even when he smiled. Not that he smiled at us. No, all we got was a fierce frown and a glare.
Luyons is a tiny
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