Chapter 7

SEVEN

Sabella

The tidbits of reassurance from Heidi aren't nearly enough to diminish my worry about Sophie. Early one morning, when I can't stand it any longer, I walk to the village and hide behind the plane trees that line the street in front of the school in the hope of catching a glimpse of the children.

It's a risk.

If Angelo spots me, he'll no doubt lock me up in the house, but after how Sophie left, I need to see with my own eyes that she's all right.

Most parents walk their kids to school. The village is small. A few do drop-offs in the small parking lot at the side of the building. I scan every car that comes up the road, but there's no sign of Angelo or the children.

Five minutes before the bell rings, an SUV with tinted windows pulls up. A driver hops out and opens the back door. The three boys—Johan, étienne, and Guillaume—peel out one after the other. Finally, Sophie's delicate face appears. She takes the hand the driver offers and climbs to the ground. She's wearing skinny jeans, Pocahontas style boots, and a puffy jacket. A backpack is slung over her shoulder.

The boys run with boisterous laughs to the entrance. She smiles at the driver and dips her head before trudging after her brothers. My heart squeezes when I take in her thin legs and small frame. The urge to run after her and hug her is so big that I have to force myself to walk away. I only get to the corner before my resolve weakens.

Knowing it's a mistake, I retrace my steps and hover in front of the closed gate of the school. The building sits right on the street with the playground at the back. I walk along the pavement, trying to peer inconspicuously through the classroom windows. I'm acting like a looney or a stalker. I better be careful or someone will report me as a crazy person hanging around the school.

Just another quick look to ensure she's fine. Then I'll go.

A burst of laughter comes from the window in front of me. I stop next to it. The windowsill is at my eye level. I stand on tiptoes to see through the window frame. A bulky man stands in front of a blackboard on which words are written in English.

I gasp.

Roch?

He's a teacher?

He raises his hands, trying to calm the outburst in the classroom. All the children are hollering except for one who sits in the front—Johan. His cheeks are red. He stares straight ahead with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"Quiet," Roch says, his voice carrying over the raucous noise. "Or you're all doing an extra hour of grammar after school."

The laughter dies down to snickering.

"Johan," Roch says. "Weed isn't the same as weeds. You can't smoke them. Try again to make a sentence with the word."

Johan clamps his lips together and glares at the blackboard.

The other kids giggle some more.

A boy at the back raises his hand. "Weeds grow in the garden."

"Good," Roch says. "Who else wants to try?"

A pretty girl with a tweed jacket and a high ponytail throws her arm so high into the air that her body lifts off the chair. "The Russos are like weeds. They're hard to get rid of, and they never die."

More laughter erupts.

Johan turns more red.

Roch addresses the girl in a stern tone. "You're staying after school. One hour of extra homework."

"But that's what my parents say," she says.

Roch points the chalk at her. "Another word from you and I'll make it two hours."

"Why must I be punished for the truth? He's ugly and stupid." She makes a face. "He should've already been in the fifth grade. That's why he's two years older than the rest of us."

Johan shifts down in his chair, making himself smaller.

I don't think. I'm too outraged. I simply act, knocking hard on the window.

The children turn their heads. Johan blinks and gapes. Roch gives a start. He frowns as he walks over and opens the window a crack.

"What are you doing?" he asks through thin lips, keeping his voice down.

"Let me in."

A grumpy look comes over his face. "You're disrupting my class."

"Now, Roch, or I swear I'll climb through the window."

He narrows his eyes. "Don't make me call the police and cause a scene."

"I have something to say, and I'm not saying it through the window."

He's all growling and teeth as he pulls back his lips and bites out in warning, "Sabella."

"Don't mess with me, Roch."

The light in his eyes turns calculated. "Must I call your husband? I'm sure he'd like to know what you're up to."

"Do what you have to, but you're going to open that door for me."

"I can't just open the door. There's a protocol to follow."

"I don't care."

I turn on my heel and march to the gate where I ring the button on the intercom.

A woman's voice comes through the speaker. "Yes?"

"I'm here to see Roch. He's expecting me."

"Is this an emergency?"

"Yes. My husband's nephew is in his class."

"I'll let the principal know. Please wait."

A moment later, the gate clicks open. I charge through it just as a woman with a halo of red hair steps out.

"I'm the principal." She looks me up and down. "I believe there's an emergency?"

Roch appears behind her. "It's all right. She's got a kid in my class." Shooting daggers at me with his eyes, he says, "She just needs a quick word with him."

"Who?" the principle asks.

"Johan," I say. "Johan Russo."

Her red lips form an O. The change in her attitude is remarkable. Fear creeps into her eyes. "This is highly irregular." She pulls on the neckline of her cardigan. "You better make it quick."

Shooting Roch a concerned glance, she goes back inside.

I don't wait for Roch to drag me back to the gate, because I don't doubt he will. I slip in behind the principal and walk with determined steps behind her down the hallway.

The principal stops in front of a door and crosses her arms. "You can call him out, Roch." Turning to me, she says, "You have a minute."

I lift my chin. "That won't be necessary. The whole class can hear what I have to say."

Roch reaches for my arm, but before he can grab me, I open the door and go inside. The room goes quiet. Roch enters and stops next to me, his hands balled at his sides. The principal hovers in the doorframe. Johan's jaw goes slack.

"Who of you speaks perfect English?" I ask.

No one raises a hand.

"I guess then you're all bound to make mistakes. Can I tell you a secret? My French is a little rusty. I took it as an extra language for two years at school, but that was a long time ago. Does that make me stupid?"

They look at each other as if I asked them a trick question.

"I don't speak Italian or Corsu either," I say.

They stare at me.

"Does that make me stupid?"

Everyone except for the girl with the tweed jacket shake their heads.

"Seeing that no one is ever too old to learn, I wonder if the principal will let me sit in for this class." I look at her. "I won't mind brushing up on my English vocabulary too."

A cheer breaks out among the pupils. I bet they never had an adult attending their class.

The principal shifts her weight, asking Roch through clenched teeth, "What is she up to?"

"Please, Mrs. Nieddo," the kids chant. "Let her stay."

A chorus of, "Let her stay!" follows.

The principal's forehead creases. She lifts a hand and says with impatience, "Silence."

"Please, Mrs. Nieddo! Please let her stay!"

She heaves a frustrated sigh. "Oh, all right." Raising a finger, she adds, "But only this once. As an exception."

I smile sweetly at Roch, who resembles a fuming dragon. "Thank you."

"Get on with it then," the principal says, pulling her back straight as she leaves.

I sit down in a vacant chair next to Johan. He shifts his seat an inch away, glowering at the book that lies open in front of him.

"Here," a girl on the left whispers, handing me a piece of paper and a pencil with a smile. "You can borrow mine."

Roch walks with stilted steps to the front and picks up the textbook on his desk. The lesson resumes in a much calmer fashion with the children stealing curious glances at me.

When the bell rings to announce the end of the class, excited chatter erupts as the kids pack away their books. I return the pencil to my neighbor and thank her for her kindness. Johan is taking his time to gather his stationery, waiting for everyone to file past. The classroom is almost empty when he finally gets to his feet. Only the girl in the tweed jacket and three others who sat in the back are left.

I stand when the rude girl is about to pass next to us. Giving her a stern look, I say, "Don't speak about Johan like that again, or I'll have a word with your parents."

She scurries around me, not looking back as she leaves the room.

Johan swings his bag over his shoulder. I've taken two steps toward Roch's desk when he speaks. "Sabella?"

I stop and turn to look at him.

"Thank you," he says with a crooked smile before charging past me and through the door.

Roch purses his lips and gives me his back to wipe the blackboard clean. He only faces me again when the last kid has cleared the room.

I raise a brow. "Teaching, huh?"

"I was a teacher before I worked for your husband."

"Well, knock me down with a feather."

"What?" He sounds offended. "What's wrong with being a teacher?"

"Nothing." I grin. "You just don't fit the profile."

He scoffs. "I happen to like it."

"Why did you quit?"

"Money," he says matter-of-factly.

"And now?"

"The pay is way less than the money I earned babysitting your sorry ass, but I'm thinking of settling down."

I can't resist teasing him. "Does someone have a girlfriend in town?"

His face turns tomato red.

"Oh my God." I laugh. "You've really got it bad."

He snorts and straightens his books.

"I'm happy for you." When he says nothing, I continue, "I mean it."

"Get out of my classroom." He reshuffles the papers on his desk without looking at me. "I have a class to teach, and I'm not doing it with another disruption. You caused enough drama for one day."

Fine. My behavior was impulsive, but I couldn't stand by and let those nasty insults slide. Hearing that girl humiliating Johan stirred an intense feeling of injustice inside me. It reminded me too much of the gifted but poor Isaac who was an outcast in our school. Johan deserves someone to stand up for him.

"I'm sorry for disrupting your class," I say, making my way to the door.

I'm about to step over the threshold when he says, "What you did for Johan, that was good."

I smile to myself as I let that sink in before leaving.