Free Rumors of Peace by Ella Leffland Page A

do I.”
    â€œThe teachers won’t even call me Rochelle. It’s my name. ”
    â€œHow come it’s Peggy on the roll call sheet?”
    â€œHow do I know?”
    â€œYou mean Peggy’s some completely wrong name?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œThat’s funny. I wonder why.”
    But I could see that my companion was not one to pursue a subject relentlessly. She seemed already to have dropped this one. Her round stomach was comfortably thrust before her, and she walked with a pleasant, solid roll.
    â€œAre you new?” I asked.
    She nodded.
    â€œWhere did you go before?”
    â€œClara Bebb’s, in the valley. It’s a boarding school.”
    I gave her a closer look. I had seen boarding schools in movies, and the girls were snobbish and beautiful. They rode horses with English saddles and swam in pools surrounded by urns of wisteria. None of them looked like Rochelle. But for all I knew, they left these stumpy ones out of the movies.
    â€œDid you have a swimming pool?”
    She gave a nostalgic nod.
    â€œWhy do you want to go here for?”
    â€œI don’t.” She turned a slow, heavy-lidded look at me. “They kicked me out.”
    â€œThey did?”
    â€œAfter the sixth grade they make a decision, on if you’re too untamed. They like the bookworm type. I was too untamed.”
    â€œYou were?”
    â€œI don’t care. Only I liked it there, I had a lot of friends. This is our uniform.”
    â€œI had a friend. His name was Ezio.”
    â€œWe didn’t have any boys, just brothers if they came on visiting days.”
    â€œI’ve got a brother. And a sister.”
    Her round face took on a sudden hardness. “I’ve got a sister. But they never brought her along to visit.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause. She’s insane.”
    â€œReally? Ezio’s brother was insane. He used to go to the bathroom in the street.”
    â€œShe doesn’t do that.”
    â€œWhat does she do?”
    â€œI don’t want to discuss her. I detest her.”
    We turned onto a broad, curving street lined with weeping willows. “Do you like Mendoza?” I asked.
    â€œAre you kidding? Run-down old refinery town?”
    â€œWhat do you know about it! You just moved here!”
    â€œNo I didn’t. We’ve always lived here.”
    That was strange. I had never laid eyes on her, never heard of a Hatton family. There was a lady foot doctor on Estudillo Street named Hatton, a woman with cropped hair like a man’s and a cigarette always dangling from her mouth, but as far as I knew she wasn’t even married.
    â€œHow come I’ve never seen you around?” I asked.
    â€œBecause I’d be in school all year, and in the summer I’d go to camp at Tahoe. Only I can’t anymore unless I improve.”
    We had come to a broad, velvety lawn where a gardener in a sun helmet was moving a sprinkler.
    â€œIs he a Jap?” I whispered.
    â€œFilipino. How do you pronounce your name again? I want to get it right in case they’re home.”
    â€œWho?” I asked uneasily, looking at the house. It was large, imposing, made of gray stone, inset with long, cathedrallike windows. “Sooza,” I said in a hushed tone as she pulled open the door, a great rough-hewn affair with an iron knocker.
    â€œAnybody here?” she yelled, and taking my hand, she led me down the hall to the kitchen.
    There, amazingly, sat the lady foot doctor from Estudillo Street. She was smoking and reading a newspaper over the remains of lunch. Next to her sat a man, also smoking and reading a newspaper. Across from them sat a girl of about fourteen or fifteen, spooning up a bowl of soup. She had piercing green eyes that never left my face as we approached the table.
    â€œThis is my friend Sooza,” Rochelle announced, “and this is my mother and father.”
    The lady doctor glanced up