Chapter 13

 

ROSE LAY drowsing in her bed Sunday afternoon, picking idly at the chipped polish on her nails. Climbing down a fire escape and over a fence had taken its toll on the burgundy enamel. Her cheeks colored at the thought of how foolish she had been last night—her hair and makeup and nails had been sophisticated enough, but apparently she had left her brains behind. Why couldn’t she be sensible and aware of things, like Blanche? Her older sister never would have gone to Rob’s party, let alone be caught with him in a bedroom. Rose castigated herself remorsefully, and then forgot about it seconds later as another, more attractive thought entered her mind: the mystery of Bear. She thought it was wonderful that Bear had taken her sister out to the prom—although Blanche had been strangely reticent about the romantic possibilities therein. Blanche’s story of the fistfight, her fainting, and her awakening, narrated over a plate of pancakes cooked by Mother early in the morning, had held Rose spellbound. Despite her weariness, she had hardly been able to sleep, mulling over the new paradox.

Rose yawned fitfully in her bed. “Are you awake, Blanche?” she asked.

“Sort of,” Blanche said from her burrow of quilts and pillows. She continued to follow her own thoughts. In a way, Bear leaving was a good thing. After all, she didn’t know what could have happened if he had stayed. She would have dated him, she supposed, but it would have been strange and uncomfortable and different. For now, she was safe. Though that was poor comfort as she lay curled up in bed, wondering where he was and worrying about him. But it was the one dry crust she was offered.

“I just can’t figure out how Bear got you into such a gorgeous apartment,” Rose said, yawning again. “It boggles the mind.”

“That makes two of us,” Blanche said dryly. Both she and Rose discussed the mystery of the previous night over and over, but they couldn’t come to any conclusion about it.

“Do you think we could figure out what street it was on?” Rose asked thoughtfully. “Maybe if we walked around some nice Manhattan neighborhoods …”

“I really have no idea. I didn’t get a good look at where we were, and even if we found the right building, then what? It’s impossible to find out who owns those kinds of places. Rich people buy those apartments on the top floors of buildings so they’ll have privacy!”

“A penthouse!” Rose breathed, her arms folded under her head. “How in the world—”

“Maybe his brother owns it,” Blanche had a sudden thought. “His brother was there.”

“You know, he never told us much about his brother,” Rose bit a half-colored fingernail and speculated. “Maybe their mother was rich, and she left him all the money without giving Bear a cent. Maybe that’s why Bear didn’t like to talk about him.”

“No, wait. They didn’t live there. They were talking about a Steve and a Mrs. Foster,” Blanche mused, sitting up and stretching. “That’s where they lived, I think.”

“Hmm. Maybe we could look up ‘Foster’ in the phone book.” Rose rolled off the bed and ran downstairs in her bare feet to get the New York City telephone book. A few minutes later, Blanche heard her groan.

“What’s wrong?” Blanche called.

“There are three pages of Fosters–and at least ten of them are ‘Steven Foster,’ not counting all the ‘S. Fosters,’” Rose complained, coming up the stairs.

“They’re leaving the Fosters, anyhow,” Blanche said, touching her cheek gently. She had a yellow bruise there from the fight in the school parking lot. “Well, I suppose it will remain a mystery.”

At the word, Rose’s eyes glimmered green. “Not if I can help it,” she breathed. She stood up straight in her pink nightgown, one hand on her hip. “Watson, I think we have a case.”

Blanche moaned and threw herself on the bed. “Just what I need,” she murmured, pulling the pillow over her head. “Bear is gone and my sister is getting delusions of grandeur again!”

“Delusions?” asked Rose indignantly.  “The game is afoot!”

 

Neither girl was anxious to go to school on Monday morning. “I can imagine what Rob must have told his buddies about what happened,” Rose moaned as they walked to school. “He probably told some lovely whoppers.”

Blanche was quiet. She desperately hoped the girls wouldn’t tease her about “her boyfriend.” Just now she was feeling very tender in that area.

As they walked up the steps to the main entrance of school, Blanche noticed a flap of tan cloth caught in the center door. “What’s that?” she pointed it out to Rose.

“Looks like someone’s coat,” Rose said, intrigued.

She pulled the door open and the flap shot free. The sudden release propelled its owner forward. Both girls stared at the red-faced man on the floor.

“Idiots!” he screamed at them, scrambling to his feet.

“Mr. Freet!” Rose cried in regret. “I’m so sorry!”

“We saw your coat was stuck in the door …” Blanche ventured.

“Yes, and thoughtlessly decided to open it just as I tried to jerk it out myself!” Mr. Freet was dusting off his coat with quick angry movements. “Little imbeciles. Have you no idea what poor balance people my age have?”

“If we hadn’t opened the door, you might have torn your coat,” Rose felt compelled to point out.

“Ah.  I see.  No doubt you thought it would be more amusing to see me fall flat on my face?” Mr. Freet’s white hair was practically bristling with indignation.

“No, not at all,” Rose pleaded, “We didn’t think–”

“Of course you didn’t THINK!   Just what I’ve always said about women.  Now stay out of my way before I lose my temper!” Mr. Freet bellowed, snatching up his umbrella and striding into the principal’s office in a small white fury.

Rose heaved a sigh. “I must say, we do manage to get on his worst side all the time, don’t we?”

“He really isn’t a very reasonable person,” Blanche agreed.

As it turned out, Rob had decided to ignore Rose, which was fine with her. Apparently he hadn’t told anyone about their little adventure, and Rose hoped fervently he was repentant. But she suspected he was simply nursing wounded pride.

Since it was close to the end of school, the seniors had to be measured for their graduation caps and gowns. Between her afternoon classes, Rose found the hallway crowded with seniors standing around, talking and hanging out. Some of them had already been measured. Others were just killing time. Since she had a few minutes before her next class started, she thought she would find Blanche. She passed the two Freet brothers in the hallway in earnest conversation. Mr. Edward Freet looked at her, glaring, as she passed, and Rose ducked her head, crestfallen. Down at the end of the hallway, she spotted Blanche getting something out of her locker. Eileen, Lisa, and Lani stood around her.

Sensing trouble, Rose hurried towards them in time to hear Lani say, “So have you had many hot dates with this guy, Blanche?”

“What’s it to you?” Rose demanded, shouldering her way in beside her sister. Blanche’s face was red, and she looked thankful for the interruption.

“Oh, it’s Rob’s new little ‘Rose,’” Eileen said. Her eyes were slits, and Rose fleetingly wondered how much she knew.

“What’s that lovely title supposed to mean?” Rose put her hands on her hips, incensed.

“We were just wondering why your immaculately pure sister showed up at the dance with a drug dealer.”

“He’s not a drug dealer!” Rose said hotly. She didn’t care how loud her voice was.

The three girls exchanged glances and laughed. “Now, I’ve heard of being naïve, but this is too much!” Eileen tittered. “So what does he do in the schoolyard—trade baseball cards?”

“I always thought he specialized in ladies of the night,” Lisa said slyly. “We thought maybe Blanche—”

Rose really forgot herself when she realized what Lisa was saying. The next thing she knew, Lisa was on the ground and she was standing over her shouting. There was an uproar going on all around her. Blanche had her hands over her mouth, and Rose thought she was laughing. Eileen was cursing wildly while Lani shrieked bloody murder.

The next instant, the principal was there with Mr. Freet at his side. “I want both of you young ladies in my office!” he said to Rose, and Lisa, who was still gasping for breath. “You too!” he added to Blanche, recognizing her.

Five minutes later, Rose and Blanche sat next to each other in the principal’s office while Lisa, almost crying, described how viciously Rose had attacked her.

“She just laid back and punched me in the stomach,” Lisa went on in a hurt voice. Blanche was amazed that such a tough-looking girl could crumble so easily.

“Excuse me sir,” Rose said politely. “I only shoved her. She was being positively insulting to my—”

“Liar!” Lisa cried.

Rose looked at her with undisguised disgust.

“What provoked you to hit her, Miss Brier?” asked the principal, leaning back in his Victorian armchair. His red forehead was creased and withered, but his eyes were less piercing than his brother’s.

 “She was tormenting my sister, the way she always does, and I couldn’t take it any longer,” Rose’s words spilled out over each other. “She and her friends have been picking on her for no reason ever since we got here. For no reason whatsoever, just stupid cruelty.”

The principal’s eyes were impassive. “How was she tormenting your sister?”

Rose blew out all her breath in an attempt to calm down. “My sister went to the prom with a friend of our family’s. This girl and her friends were making crass remarks—about his character.” If she even thought about what Lisa had insinuated, she’d commit murder.

“Just who is this friend of yours?” the principal asked, eyeing the sisters.

Rose and Blanche glanced at each other. “He calls himself Bear,” Rose shrugged.

The principal considered, then turned to Lisa. “You are not to go near either of these girls for the rest of the school year. I’d hate to have to deny you a diploma over a disciplinary incident. You may go.” Lisa got to her feet muttering, cast Rose a dirty look, and flounced out of the office.

“Rose Brier, you have after-school detention for the rest of this week, starting tomorrow. And you are also not to go near Lisa or her friends.” He took off his glasses and wiped them. “I feel I should warn you two girls that this character you call ‘Bear’ is a dangerous person. I recognized him the other night as a former student here, Arthur Denniston, who was arrested for trying to sell drugs on school property. I don’t know what type of association you girls have with him, but I’d advise you to end it. I say this as a school administrator concerned for your welfare.” He gave them both a meaningful stare and dismissed them.

Rose wondered if Mr. Freet had told his brother about the episode with the coat this morning. Probably that’s why the principal had treated them so sternly. “I just want to go home,” Rose said to Blanche, holding her head. “I feel sick.”

“Then let’s go home,” Blanche said soothingly. “I’ve gotten measured already. Mother can call the school later.” She put a gentle arm around her sister and led her out of the school building.

“I just know Bear’s not a drug dealer, I know it!” Rose said miserably after they had left the school grounds.

“But the fact is, Rose, Bear has a past.  And that past is going to make trouble for him,” Blanche said, attempting to sound comforting and realistic at the same time. 

“I don’t believe it,” Rose said flatly.  “I don’t believe Bear ever did drugs.  I feel I should be able to tell if he had.”

Blanche half-smiled. “Well, it’s nice that you feel that way, but Bear did tell us that he was arrested for possessing drugs.”

“That’s just it!” Rose pointed out. “Possessing them, not using them.”

“Well, both of them are wrong,” Blanche said.

“You know, I really can’t believe you, Blanche,” Rose turned on her sister suddenly.  “After all Bear’s done for us and done for you, you still doubt him?”

Blanche colored, feeling the smart of injustice, but she attempted to explain herself.  “It’s different for me, Rose,” she said at last.  “I don’t doubt him, but I don’t deny what I know either.  I used to care about Bear’s past.  Now I don’t, because I see how he is today.  I—I trust him.”  

There was silence, and Blanche realized she had discovered her feelings even as she articulated them.

“Well,” Rose said at last.  “Those girls in your class and Dr. Freet seem to think that Bear still is a drug dealer.  What about that?”

Blanche said gloomily. “My feelings say Bear isn’t involved with drugs in any way, but as for what I know—it’s sort of like the opposite of religious faith. Oh, let’s not even talk about it.”

“No, we’ve got to know the truth!” Rose insisted.

“But why?” Blanche asked despondently.

“Because there’s something here we’ve got to know. Bear’s tried to keep his troubles and our friendship separate, but maybe that’s not right.  Maybe he needs our help.”

Blanche felt a rising tide of apprehension pass over her.  Rose thought she could handle anything, but Blanche was too keenly aware of how inadequate they actually were—how weak she was, at least.  She felt cold, even in the bright sunlight.  “I don’t know, Rose.  I just don’t know.”

“Well, I’m going to investigate,” Rose said resolutely. “And you’re going to help me.”

“Why me?” Blanche folded her arms over her schoolbooks.

“As if I could do anything without you,” Rose said affectionately, putting her hand on her sister’s shoulder.

They continued walking in silence until they reached their block when Blanche said, “By the way, thanks for rescuing me.”

“Any time,” said Rose, flexing her muscles.

Mother had something to say to Rose about using violence to solve arguments, but she came down unfailingly on her daughter’s side otherwise. “Let’s just hope that this is the end of the matter,” Mother finished. “It might be wise for you girls to stick together as much as possible until the school year ends.”

“We will, Mom, we will,” Rose promised.

“I only have four more days left before exams start, anyhow,” Blanche said. “I’m glad for that.”

When they woefully told Mother what the principal had said about Bear, she frowned. “Hm! That is disturbing. But after all, girls, Bear did mention his drug charges to us before.”

“Yes, but why didn’t he tell us he used to go to St. Catherine’s? And why didn’t he tell us his real name?” Rose asked.

“I don’t know. But I’m sure he had his reasons,” Mother said. “Sometimes school principals don’t know the full story behind everything that goes on in their own buildings. I tend to believe what I see, not what I hear. Bear seems like an honest boy to me.”

“But the principal told us not to associate with him any more,” Blanche pointed out.

“Well, we may never see him again,” Mother said matter-of-factly. “If we do see him again, maybe we’ll find out the answers to your questions, but until then, we’ll just pray for him and leave the mysteries alone.”

Blanche and Rose looked at each other. Neither mentioned that Rose had no intention of leaving them alone.

“Let’s begin at the beginning. Let’s jot down everything we can remember about anything personal Bear ever said to us, and we’ll go from there,” Rose said that night in the bedroom, taking out a school notebook. They had gone up to their room early, telling Mother that they had extra work to do. She had said goodnight to them with a smile.

Blanche sat cross-legged on the bed, frowning. “Well, the first night he was here, he said he had a brother. And that they were both arrested for possessing drugs.  Or delivering them. Or something like that.”

“Yeah. Mother would remember.” Rose scribbled that down. “Did he say anything about where he lived that first night he came?”

“No, never.”

“Hmm. That first night, we found out he liked G.K. Chesterton. I would guess that might mean that he was Catholic.”

“Besides the fact that he went to St. Catherine’s and was an altar boy,” Blanche pointed out matter-of-factly.

“He-heh. I forgot. Yes, besides that. Oh, I remember! He told Mom that his mother died of cancer. We should check the obituaries in the paper for a Mrs. Denniston.”

Something clicked in Blanche’s mind, and she stared. Suddenly she shouted, “A. Denniston! A. Denniston!” bouncing up and down on the bed.

“Shh! What’s wrong? What?” Rose looked at her sister in amazement.

“Arthur Denniston is A. Denniston!” Blanche practically shrieked.

“What are you talking about?”

Blanche scrambled to her feet and seized her schoolbag. She rifled through her papers and pulled out one. “The poem we read! Remember—A. Denniston!”

“Bear is A. Denniston,” Rose said mechanically. Her eyes kindled. “So he was Sister Geraldine’s favorite student.”

Blanche was practically crying with laughter. “The nut! We read him his own poem and he had to pretend that he didn’t like it! He must have felt put on the spot! The nut! He must have wanted to die!”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s so hard to criticize your own poem. He probably couldn’t stand it. I always think mine are wretched,” Rose said.

“No wonder he was Sister’s favorite,” Blanche said. “All that poetry he’s read on his own. He must have stuck out in class badly.”

“Tomorrow,” Rose pointed to her sister resolutely, “while I’m in detention, you are going to talk to Sister Geraldine.”

Blanche opened her mouth to object, and realized there was no way around it. If she wanted to see Bear’s name cleared, she was going to have to get involved.