knowledge that she was in the house, knowledge that at once filled and shrank his heart; now when he opened the door and saw her, she seemed to be a different person than the one he had been thinking of, denser, more problematic, renewing his fear and wonder.
"I'm hungry,” she said.
* * * *
Could it really have been (Pierce wondered, having cause to ponder these things again) that they had kept Bobby to themselves for many days, a week at least, without Mousie knowing? Maybe there were enough children in the house that Mousie hadn't detected an extra pair of feet clattering on the back stairs; maybe Sister Mary Philomel couldn't distinguish a Cumberland whisper amid the urgent whispers in the garden plot below her schoolroom window (Bobby refusing to stay in the hideaway under the house they had found for her). Anyway no one caught her. She slept with Bird, and the one time her shape under the covers was discerned by Mousie, Hildy had been in the bathroom, and Mousie thought it was she in Bird's bed.
Days she moved from room to room, or snuck up into the woods or into the chicken house or down into town with Pierce and Bird (dangerous, daring, if they hadn't felt themselves to be truly Invisible, and Bobby too as long as she was in their keeping, they would have betrayed themselves and her). She could stay preternaturally still and silent, make herself transparent to observation somehow, like a speckled toad in dead leaves; if you looked long at her (Pierce hiding out with her in the upstairs closet, waiting for a chance to run), there could seem something alien in the shape of her face, something opaque in her hard eyes, as though she only closely resembled a human girl.
She still talked about getting to Deetroit and her maw, but—though they schemed with her and stole from the kitchen and the closets to provision her—they knew, Pierce and Hildy at least, that this was like make-believe, like Joe Boyd's constant threat to run away to sea. It seemed clear that she didn't know the way, and when once they took out the volume of maps from the cabinet where the maroon Encyclopedia was kept, and found Kentucky, she couldn't follow what they did. There's Clay County. There's Pikeville. There was the No Name River too and the centipede of the railroad track. Bobby watched them without interest.
It only slowly grew clear to them that she couldn't read at all. “Yes I sure can,” she said defiantly, and sang out “A b c d e f g, hi jk ello mello pee,” but couldn't pass the real tests Hildy quickly put to her. For her part she didn't seem to believe completely that they could read what they read, and would challenge them to read passages aloud, from pages she chose, so they couldn't cheat.
"Ophites,” Pierce read from the Dictionary where her finger, tipped with a black-moon nail, pointed. “The Ophites were a sect who, like most Gnostics, regarded the Jehovah of the Jews with great abhorrence, and believed that the emancipation of human souls from his power was the great work of life. Thus they considered that the Serpent who tempted Eve to revolt was the great benefactor of the human race. They worshipped a serpent which they kept within a sanctuary, and after it had blessed (by licking with its tongue) the Eucharist bread, the communicants each kissed it on the mouth."
Bobby considered this. “Don't wonder they didn't like Jews,” she said. “They kilt Jesus. My uncle took up a snake once in church, cause the Bible says if you believe, you can handle snakes, or drink pizen, and no harm come to you. He didn't kiss it though.” She leafed further through the book. “Kissn snakes,” she said in disgusted disbelief, and turned the page. “Who's this all?"
"Statues."
"Where's ther clothes?"
"They didn't wear them like we do."
She lifted her eyes slowly to Pierce, as though he had planted the picture of Hermes there for her to find. “This was long ago,” he said, blushing. “In another country."
"What
"I'm hungry,” she said.
* * * *
Could it really have been (Pierce wondered, having cause to ponder these things again) that they had kept Bobby to themselves for many days, a week at least, without Mousie knowing? Maybe there were enough children in the house that Mousie hadn't detected an extra pair of feet clattering on the back stairs; maybe Sister Mary Philomel couldn't distinguish a Cumberland whisper amid the urgent whispers in the garden plot below her schoolroom window (Bobby refusing to stay in the hideaway under the house they had found for her). Anyway no one caught her. She slept with Bird, and the one time her shape under the covers was discerned by Mousie, Hildy had been in the bathroom, and Mousie thought it was she in Bird's bed.
Days she moved from room to room, or snuck up into the woods or into the chicken house or down into town with Pierce and Bird (dangerous, daring, if they hadn't felt themselves to be truly Invisible, and Bobby too as long as she was in their keeping, they would have betrayed themselves and her). She could stay preternaturally still and silent, make herself transparent to observation somehow, like a speckled toad in dead leaves; if you looked long at her (Pierce hiding out with her in the upstairs closet, waiting for a chance to run), there could seem something alien in the shape of her face, something opaque in her hard eyes, as though she only closely resembled a human girl.
She still talked about getting to Deetroit and her maw, but—though they schemed with her and stole from the kitchen and the closets to provision her—they knew, Pierce and Hildy at least, that this was like make-believe, like Joe Boyd's constant threat to run away to sea. It seemed clear that she didn't know the way, and when once they took out the volume of maps from the cabinet where the maroon Encyclopedia was kept, and found Kentucky, she couldn't follow what they did. There's Clay County. There's Pikeville. There was the No Name River too and the centipede of the railroad track. Bobby watched them without interest.
It only slowly grew clear to them that she couldn't read at all. “Yes I sure can,” she said defiantly, and sang out “A b c d e f g, hi jk ello mello pee,” but couldn't pass the real tests Hildy quickly put to her. For her part she didn't seem to believe completely that they could read what they read, and would challenge them to read passages aloud, from pages she chose, so they couldn't cheat.
"Ophites,” Pierce read from the Dictionary where her finger, tipped with a black-moon nail, pointed. “The Ophites were a sect who, like most Gnostics, regarded the Jehovah of the Jews with great abhorrence, and believed that the emancipation of human souls from his power was the great work of life. Thus they considered that the Serpent who tempted Eve to revolt was the great benefactor of the human race. They worshipped a serpent which they kept within a sanctuary, and after it had blessed (by licking with its tongue) the Eucharist bread, the communicants each kissed it on the mouth."
Bobby considered this. “Don't wonder they didn't like Jews,” she said. “They kilt Jesus. My uncle took up a snake once in church, cause the Bible says if you believe, you can handle snakes, or drink pizen, and no harm come to you. He didn't kiss it though.” She leafed further through the book. “Kissn snakes,” she said in disgusted disbelief, and turned the page. “Who's this all?"
"Statues."
"Where's ther clothes?"
"They didn't wear them like we do."
She lifted her eyes slowly to Pierce, as though he had planted the picture of Hermes there for her to find. “This was long ago,” he said, blushing. “In another country."
"What
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