Page 15 of Caleb
On impulse, I dart her way to help her with her book. But by the time I reach her, she’s already picked it up. I can tell she’s the type that has trouble accepting help from others, or maybe she’s just had so much help her entire life that she just wants to do stuff herself, like picking up her damn book from the floor.
“Your bag, Miss Murphy,” I say, handing it over to her.
She does look on edge, like she still can’t get used to that shrill-sounding school bell. I get it. Sounds are very triggering, especially after being exposed to a shooting on school grounds. Maybe the bell reminds her of the automatic weapon she heard in the distance, or perhaps the bell was ringing when it happened. When her mother was being shot to death just a few walls away, and she was cowering inside a classroom with Aaron holding her as they waited for the chaos to subside and backup to arrive.
What was she thinking at that moment? That someone was coming to get her? That the bullets had her name on them? I’m sure she didn’t expect her mother to be dead.
“Thank you,” she replies sharply, looking at her feet as if embarrassed of herself somehow. She takes her backpack and disappears into her classroom for the next forty-five minutes.
The realization of not knowing before what bone-deep duty and purpose really feels like hits me cold and hard in the face, stunning me. A smile so small, so undetectable, for me only, draws on my face because even if I had doubts before, I now know that this is where I’m meant to be.
SOS
May 13, 2005
THREE WEEKS HAVE PASSEDsince I officially joined Aaron on Miss Murphy’s security team. The semester is almost over, and she still keeps mostly to herself at school. She engages in quick conversations with the other girls here and there, but I can see how she doesn’t make an effort to befriend anyone yet. Her books are her best companion.
I’ve kept my interactions with her to a minimum. It’s as if we were acting on a script.Good morning.Your backpack, Miss Murphy.Have a good evening.I’ll carry it for you.How was school, Miss Murphy?No, I insist. Not a single good night yet, though. We always drive to the Residence immediately after school, and she rarely goes out after that. She does take French lessons, but her tutor comes in four afternoons a week for an hour and a half, and that’s about it.
It would be good for her to leave the Residence more, like going for a walk or a run, but who am I to suggest that? She’s adjusting to a new country, new language, new school, and all of this without any friends, no mother to turn to, and a father who’s too busy to notice. But Paris is an incredible city from what little I’ve been able to look around at, and she’s locked herself up behind this architectural fortress buried in her books.
The Residence is big enough for her to roam around without feeling trapped, but I wonder if she even leaves her bedroom. This place is filled with people coming and going all the time. Her father hosts events on a weekly basis. And I know she never attends any of them because Aaron and I are never called up to check on her, and it is protocol to be present at any public function where Miss Murphy’s presence is required, even if it’s inside the Residence.
We’re driving back from school in silence. She’s looking out the window as she usually does, her gaze far away as if constantly daydreaming. I wonder what sheseeswhen staring out into the city.
Out of the blue, she speaks.
“There’s a party tonight.” She clears her throat. “A girl from my homeroom turns sixteen next Sunday, so she’s having a small gathering at her place to celebrate.” It’s weird to hear her speaking for longer than our regular quick back and forth.
“Will you be attending this party, Miss Murphy?” Aaron asks as he waits for the Residence’s gate to open.
“I think so,” she replies softly, but it comes almost like a question. “I’ll text you the details in a bit.”
“Of course.” Aaron kills the engine.
I’m about to jump out of the car to get the door for her when she says, “We should do a BBM group chat for the three of us. It’ll be easier to communicate with you that way.”
“I can take care of it,” I reply, stepping out of the car to get the door for her. When I open it, Aaron steps out from the car too, so I look at him and say, “Wouldn’t want to entrust Fred Flintstone with that task.” Aaron’s great with tech, but I’m trying to tease him about his age.
Miss Murphy chuckles under her breath and steps out of the car.
“Thank you. I’ll see you guys later.” She walks away with a smile that I rarely get the chance to see on her face—a genuine one.
By the time she’s reached the first step up the main entrance, I realize she’s left her backpack inside the car. I reach out for it and rush in her direction.
“Miss Murphy?”
She stops mid-walk up the stairs and looks over her shoulder. I show her the backpack to let her know she left it behind. She extends her arms, trying to reach out for it, but I shake my head once and make my way up the stairs beside her to let her know I’ll be carrying it for her.
“See?” She says once we’re standing right outside the door. “You carrying my bag all the time is making me forget I even own one.”
“That’s the idea, Miss Murphy.” I hand the backpack over to her. She grabs it, and I can see her cheeks going into a soft blush before she looks away.
She grabs the door handle with a smile and pulls it down, pushing the door open just a tad. The smile fades away as she rakes her lower lip with her teeth. She’s staring at her feet as if paralyzed about going inside.
“Everything okay, Miss Murphy?”
“Ah—yeah, yeah,” she says, too quickly for it to sound genuine. “Could you, um—add a five-thirty p.m. outing tomorrow on my schedule, please?” Her voice is shaky, and I don’t like it one bit.
