The Island Curse

The New Girl

Sunday passed in a blur of packing and stony silence. Whatever buttons I'd pushed the night of our arrival must've gotten stuck because my father's newfound patience had fled after that argument. If he expected me to come to him with an apology, he'd be waiting for a long time, and I knew better than to expect him to admit wrongdoing. So, for the sake of maintaining the tenuous peace, we kept to ourselves, passing only in the halls or kitchen.

Monday morning I awoke to a knock on my door. Navigating around the boxes on the stone floor, I opened it and stared bleary eyed at my father.  Waking me up early was the worst way to mend our fences. "I set my alarm. I've got another hour."

He shoved a shopping bag at me. "These were delivered yesterday. I forgot to give them to you. You'll need it for today."

I peered inside the bag, my eye snagging on blue plaid. "Please tell me that's not a school uniform."

"That's not a school uniform."

"You're lying."

"Honesty is not what you asked for," he replied, turning and heading down the hall.

"Oh good," I grumbled, slinging the bag onto my bed. "Now you give me what I ask for."

The uniform was as bad as I imagined. We'd been forced to wear them in elementary and middle school, only escaping them when I entered high school. At least I'd had the option between skirts and pants before. Didn't look like I had a choice now.

"You look nice," Dad said, looking up from his cup of coffee when I entered the dining room. Our farm table looked out of place in the large, ornate room, but seeing its scarred surface was comforting. A small piece of home.

"I look like an extra in a Britney Spears' music video. Or a porn star." I pointed at my legs. "Knee high socks, really?"

"I'm ignoring the word porn coming out of my daughter's mouth, and it gets cold here. You'll be grateful for those come winter. Heck," he looked out the window. Gray skies and blustery winds. "You'll be grateful for them today."

"You know what else keeps you warm? Pants. Pants keep you warm, Dad."

He smiled, and some of the tension leaked out of the room. As much as I didn't want to be in a foreign country, I also didn't want to spend the next two years at war with my father. We'd been best friends once, and I hoped we could find our way back to that.

"Maybe you can lead the way for reform," he suggested, passing the milk. "No one questions the uniforms because no one has been anywhere but here."

"I seriously doubt that. I mean, this place is isolated, but it's only a ferry ride away to a bigger island, and that's just a ferry ride away from the mainland. I'd travel all the time if I was this close to Europe."

My father made a noncommittal grunt and shoveled a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. Following his lead, we finished breakfast in silence, but it was a pleasant quiet for a change. We gathered up our few dishes and put them in the sink. When I started to run hot water to wash them, Dad stopped me.

"Don't worry about it. Molly'll be over later in the day, and I don't want you to be late for yer first day of school."

"Molly?"

"She's the housekeeper. Yer bookbag is by the door."

    I stuffed my feet into my boots and threw my auburn hair into a messy bun atop my head. "We have a housekeeper now? Is she the one who got the house ready for us?"

    "One and the same," he said. "She'll be doing a lot of the cooking for us as well. Mrs. Rose recommended her."

    We piled into the truck and headed towards town. I drummed my fingers on my bag nervously, peeking at my reflection in the mirror from time to time. What I saw there didn't reassure me- my face echoed my inner turmoil for all the world to see.