In the Image of Grace (3 page)

“Excuse me,” I said to the girl. She didn’t answer.
“Excuse me, Miss,” I said pensively thinking my phrasing was quite
improper for high school. The girl quickly picked up on that.

She sharply looked up at me. “What do you want Miss
Merry Sunshine?” She asked raising her eyebrows like they were
saying, hello, why are you bothering me?

“Are the seats assigned?”

“No,” she answered.

“All right,” I responded shaking my head as other
students started to filter into the classroom. I choose a seat in
front so the teacher could see me when she entered. The bell rang
and about a minute after that the teacher arrived. The teacher was
a curious looking woman in probably her sixties, close to
retirement. She hunched in way where it looked almost like she had
a hump. Her shoulders were draw up and her head was pulled in, kind
of like a vulture. She had on some khaki slacks with a blue denim
collared shirt and a vest with cats embroidered on it. Behind her
she pulled a crate on wheels. She stopped at the podium that was in
front of the class, bent over and pulled out an attendance book
that was in the crate. She stood up quickly, scanned the room to
check that she had everyone and then her eyes stopped on me.

“Ah yes, you must be the new student,” she declared
giving me the once over.

“Yes ma'am,” I replied as politely as I could. I did
want to make a good impression.

“Mrs. Brown would do just fine,” she answered. “What
was your name again?”

“Charlotte Ann Schlobohm,” I stated properly
annunciating because my name was a mouthful.

“Uh huh,” came from Mrs. Brown as she wrote in her
attendance book. “And spell that last name for me.”

So I spelled the whole thing out.

“German?” She asked about my name.

“Correct.”

“All right,” Mrs. Brown said. “Pull out your copies
of
The Pendulum
. Charlotte you will need to obtain a copy,
for now you can look at Mr. Russo’s. He is to your right.”

I looked over to my right to see who Mr. Russo was.
He was this tall kid who was smiling at me goofily with what seemed
like too many teeth in his mouth. Mr. Russo, who I would later
learn was named Lawrence, scooted his desk over to mine and opened
his book and folded it back to the appropriate spot. He smiled and
nodded his head at me like he was somehow satisfied. I tried not to
lean in too close.

Mrs. Brown had students read excerpts and they
discussed this and that and my mind started to wander. I started to
think about Elizabeth and how she would have probably really
enjoyed school. She was always trying to find ways to get out of
our house and interact with people. She only got free on a few
occasions, mainly a couple times when Ms. Dunderfeltz sent her to
the store to get something.

If our father ever found out, Ms. Dunderfeltz would
have been out of a job, so it was just another secret in our house.
Elizabeth would always come back with exciting reports about what
we called the outside world. She’d tell us about the people in line
at the grocery store and the cashier that rung her up and anybody
or thing she’d see on the street. Isabelle, Clarissa and I would
hang onto every detail. And there I sat surrounded by all these
different people, so many possible stories, the girl with the face,
the teacher, that Mr. Russo kid, but I wouldn’t be able to share
any of it with her.

After literature I was off to what was called
division, many call it home room. I was in division 533. There were
about thirty-three kids in there, all of which were also juniors. I
received a more formal reception than I had in my literature class.
Mr. Alvarez my division teacher called me up front and introduced
me. I looked out on to everyone. They all just stared blankly at
me. I stared back at sixty-six eyeballs. Mr. Alvarez stopped
talking and there was an awkward silence. Then he asked if I had
anything to say and I said no, then sat down. I sat down next to a
girl who smiled kindly at me. She had very bad acne, but you could
tell underneath there was a cute face there.

I looked around the room. It looked like it was a
geography classroom. There were maps all over the wall and a few
globes on shelves. Some announcements were then given and then
after about fifteen minutes a bell rang and everybody was on their
way again.

I had a couple more classes and then lunch. Lunch was
an interesting observation of the teenage species. I had a packed
lunch in a brown paper bag and I think I was the only one in the
school besides my sisters with a lunch like that. It seemed almost
everybody bought lunch or just ate candy bars, chips and pop. I
wasn’t too sure where to sit, so I found a table in a corner facing
the whole cafeteria with nobody sitting at it and took a seat.

The only teenage socialization I had observed was in
the couple of movies that I had actually seen re-ran on GWN and it
was nothing like what I was observing. We didn’t have a TV, but Ms.
Dunderfeltz had a portable one. She would bring it with her and
watch TV in the laundry room while she washed and folded all the
clothes. We’d always slip in there with her when we had the chance,
but anyways there wasn’t the stereotypical table of jocks with
cheerleaders flocked around and the table of freaks and preppies
and so on and so forth. It kind of looked like everybody
intermingled. I watched the flurry of activity until the bell rang
and it was yet again on to my next class.

After school I met Isabelle and Clarissa by the main
entrance so we could go home together, the sophomore, freshman and
I the junior. I felt satisfied with my day, but then that made me
feel kind of sad because I wasn’t sure if that was what I should
have been feeling at that time. It hadn’t been that long since
Elizabeth’s death, just a matter of weeks really. Satisfaction did
not seem appropriate at the time.

That night after the first day of school I had a
dream. It might have been the same one Elizabeth was having because
the screaming was there. It was a terrible sounding scream coming
from a female. It sounded like she was being murdered, or she was
witnessing someone being murdered. All I remember seeing in the
dream was a dark room or something and before I woke up I heard
Elizabeth say, “Find mother.”

I didn’t want to open my eyes at first after I woke
up. For a moment I thought Elizabeth was in my room with me. I was
able to hear someone breathing very softly and in the distance I
heard the screaming. Slowly I opened my eyes to my darkened
bedroom. I appeared to be the only one in there. My dream left a
lingering feeling of uneasiness and anxiety. I pulled my blanket up
to my chin and lay in place for awhile. I couldn’t shake the
feeling, so I got up and walked down the hall to Isabelle’s room. I
went over to her bed and climbed in.

“Move over,” I whispered giving her a little shove.
Whenever one of us would get scared or lonely we’d crawl into bed
with each other. Just the presence of another person seems to make
everything better. Isabelle mumbled and rolled over onto her side.
I lay on my left side and stared into the dark. I didn’t want to
close my eyes again because I was scared I’d still hear the
screaming. I tried to let my mind drift off to other things, to
Isabelle sleeping next to me.

Isabelle was always the most sensitive out of us all.
She’d cry when she read a sad book, or even when one of us would
say something sweet to her. She generally only spoke when the
occasion desperately called for her words. She was always observing
though. You could tell because her eyes were always looking around
for something to affix too. She had a very keen sense of
observation. She was probably the most like Elizabeth. Elizabeth
was also quite quiet. She was always very focused on her duties of
tending to us. Nobody ever told her she was to act as our care
giver. She saw a need for it and it came natural to her. We never
got to feel the love of our real mother or father. Our father was
there, but he never gave us any inclination that he actually loved
us. We had each other and that got us through the days, but we no
longer had the love of Elizabeth, just the memory of it.

Isabelle and I were awoken by her alarm clock. Our
father got us each one that past weekend when we also got our
clothes. She rolled over and seemed surprised to see me there.
“When did you mosey in here?” She queried rubbing the sleep out of
her eyes.

“Around midnight I think,” I responded sitting
up.

Isabelle raised her eyebrows asking me why.

“I think I had Elizabeth’s dream or nightmare or
whatever you call it.”

“What!” Isabelle shouted.

I nodded.

“What was it like?”

“Well, I don’t remember seeing anything, but there
was definitely screaming in a dark place and it was awful, like
someone was being killed or something.” I paused, bit my lip and
looked at Isabelle. “I think it’s still there too, somewhere in the
distance I can still faintly hear it.”

Isabelle looked very worried. Her eyes were wide and
her mouth was drawn in. “You can’t be next. I would simply die
myself.”

“No, I think Elizabeth wants me to do something.”

Isabelle raised her eyebrows again.

“Right before I woke up she told me to find our
mother.”

Isabelle’s eyes got even wider and her mouth dropped
open. I bit my lip, raised my eyebrows and shook my head yes.

“It was like she was there with me when she said
it.”

“How do we find her?”

I shrugged my shoulders. I had the slightest
idea.

“Hey,” Isabelle and I heard across the room. It was
Clarissa. She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. Isabelle
and I filled her in.

“Where do we even start?” I sighed.

…………………………………………..

I walked into the school library filled with anxiety.
The morning had passed with a blur. I couldn’t shake my dream. I
couldn’t shake the screaming. I don’t think the screaming was
really there, but I kept hearing it so faintly resonating from my
dream.

I had gotten what is called a library pass. A library
pass meant that I could go to the library instead of sit in study
hall and do nothing.

I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but I knew the
library had resources that could hopefully help me in my search.
The library was quite large. The walls were covered in the same
dark oak wood paneling as the main hall. When you looked straight
forward you were greeted by a wall of windows that was two floors
high. A balcony ran along the one side of the library with a great
wood railing. There were wood tables with those green lamps and
study cubicles spread around. On the walls there were these giant
wood carvings and large colorful murals, all of which were artfully
crafted. I looked up and there were two rows of chandeliers hanging
from the ceiling.

I looked back down and underneath the windows was a
row of computers. I was pretty sure that’s where I was going to
start. There was an unoccupied computer at the end, so I walked
over, placed my bag on the ground and slipped into the chair. I hit
the enter button and the screen lit up. Two boxes that said
password and ID looked at me. I drummed my fingers on the table and
looked around. I wasn’t quite sure what to do. To the best of my
knowledge I had neither of those. I scanned the library and spotted
a kid next to the circulation desk. He was flipping through books
on a metal push cart. It looked like he might have been putting
them away.

Perhaps he could help me, I thought. I pushed back my
chair, stood up and walked across the library towards him, going
around the obstacles of kids sitting with their chairs pushed out
to far from the tables and backpacks on the ground. The kid putting
away the books had a head loaded with shaggy brown hair that
flipped up at the ends. He was pretty lanky looking and stood kind
of bent over. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was examining the
books or if he just had awful posture.

“Excuse me,” I said.

He turned around holding a hardback book in his hand.
He wore small thin plastic framed glasses and a brown plaid shirt
that looked like it belonged to a cowboy. “Mmm,” he huffed.

“I was wondering if you could help me.”

“Whadya need?”

“The computer,” I said. “It needs a password and ID
number.”

“You don’t have one?” He asked placing the book he
was holding onto the metal cart.

“I don’t think so.”

“You’ve never used the computers for class?” He asked
sounding suspicious of me.

“No, it’s only my second day here.”

“Oh, okay. It’s pretty simply. The username is your
first initial and last name and the ID is your student ID.”

I nodded. “How do I get my student ID?”

The shaggy haired kid smiled. “Where are you
sitting?” He asked.

I pointed to my seat. We both walked over and I sat
down. He told me to get out my schedule because that’s where I
would find my student ID. He helped me log on and then I inquired
about the internet.

“You tellin me you never used the internet before?” A
look of shock and amazement covered his face.

I shook my head no.

“Where are you from?” He asked crossing his arms
around his torso.

“About a mile and a half down the street.”

He let out a little laugh and showed me what to do. I
didn’t know it was so simple. To my sisters and me the internet was
almost a new fangled invention. We had a computer, but all we had
was a word processing program. Before that day I had never been on
the internet. It was starting to dawn on me how sheltered we really
were. I was supposed to be looking for information on my mother,
but I knew absolutely nothing about her, so I figured maybe I would
start with our father. We lived with him and still yet knew nothing
about him. I wasn’t even too sure what he did. I knew it had to do
with science and research and that was about all I had, so in the
search box on the computer screen I typed in Dr. Reginald
Schlobohm. A whole list of stuff came up. I found the one that
linked to the university he worked at. He was under the research in
bio-engineering department. The Clark Institute for Bio-engineering
it was called. He was professor and lead researcher. He was also on
the committee for genetics and also involved with a place called
the Pearlson Research Center. I read on and it seemed pretty much
he was researching genetic modification. I did a search on what
genetic modification meant and it seemed he was in the business of
designer babies. His research made way for parental gene selectmen.
He made it possible, so people could hand pick what their babies
would be like. I was quite taken aback by what I found out. That
was what Elizabeth must have meant by saying he was a professor of
blasphemy. She must have somehow known.