The Land of Decoration (15 page)

Everyone laughed again and Neil scowled. “Pick up your ruler, Neil,” said Mrs. Pierce. Neil came to the table and picked up the ruler. As he straightened he looked at me and his eyes were sleepy and slow, full of something I couldn’t name.

*   *   *

A
T LUNCHTIME
I walked around the edges of the buildings, looking for things for the Land of Decoration. I collected five different weeds, three wrappers, two can tops, a straw, and half a plastic Kinder egg case, in which I planted the weeds. I showed them to Mrs. Pierce because she was on playground duty. “Are these for the model world in your room?” she said, and I nodded.

“I’d love to see the things you’ve made,” she said. “Could you bring some in for me?” I said I would. Then I went to the toilets to water the weeds.

I was leaning over the sink when I heard a slippery sound, looked up, and saw a black jacket in the mirror. I didn’t have time to see any more, because hands were dragging me toward the toilets and my legs were scrabbling on the floor. Someone said: “See if God can help you now, bitch!” My head knocked against the toilet bowl; my nose was burning, and water was filling it.

Then I was falling backward, and Mrs. Pierce was holding Neil by the back of his jacket and her voice was shaking, but I didn’t think it was because she was afraid. She said to me: “Go to Mr. Williams, Judith, and tell him exactly what happened.”

When I got back to the classroom, Mrs. Pierce and Neil were standing opposite each other. Mrs. Pierce was shouting: “
What makes you think you’re different from everyone else? What makes you think you can get away with this sort of behavior?
”

Neil said: “I didn’t do anything to her!”

Mrs. Pierce shouted: “Good
God
, boy!
I saw you!
”

I sat down.

“There’s not one good thing I can say about you, Neil Lewis,” Mrs. Pierce was saying. “Not one! And to top it all you are an incorrigible liar. Right now I don’t know what to do with you! I don’t even want to look at you!”

Neil picked up his coat and walked toward the door. He said: “I’m not staying in this fucking dump.”

Then something happened to Mrs. Pierce. She was in front of Neil, blocking his way, her glasses were flashing, her cheeks two bright pink spots. I suddenly saw how small Mrs. Pierce was. Neil was almost as tall as her. I thought he was going to hit Mrs. Pierce, because his fists were clenched. Then I thought Mrs. Pierce was going to hit Neil, because her chest was rising and falling. And as I watched them, something seemed to be happening to me too, because my heart was beating so hard I was floating and something was flowing out of me as if there was a leak.

Nobody moved for what seemed the longest time. Then something, somewhere, snapped. The strings holding Neil were cut; Mrs. Pierce set her chin a little higher. It was difficult to say what changed exactly, but we all felt it. Mrs. Pierce said:
“Get!”
and Neil went to his desk. He put his hands over his ears and he didn’t look up.

And something about the way everyone was looking at him, something about the way he drew in his head and curled up, reminded me of something I had seen somewhere else, though just then I was too tired to remember what it was.

A
T HOME TIME
Mrs. Pierce said: “Would you wait behind a minute, Judith, please?” so I sat at my desk while everyone trooped out, and after a little while the classroom was quiet.

Mrs. Pierce shut the door. Then she came to my table and sat down beside me. She said: “I’m sorry about what happened today. If it’s any consolation, I think things are going to change quite a bit around here, so you won’t have to worry about that sort of thing anymore.”

I said: “They’ve changed a lot already.”

Mrs. Pierce inhaled. She said: “And high time they did.” Then she said: “Judith, there was just something I wanted to ask you. You see, something I overheard Neil say today in the toilets puzzled me—something about God helping you? At least that’s what it sounded like. Perhaps I’m wrong.…”

I heard God say: “Be careful. Be very careful.”

“Don’t worry,” I told Him.

“I don’t remember,” I said out loud.

Mrs. Pierce frowned. She said: “I thought I heard him say: ‘See if God can help you now’—or words to that effect.” She smiled. “I only mention it because it reminded me of something I read in your news book, about God making it snow. Is that right?”

“Get out of there,” said God.

“But Mrs. Pierce is my friend,” I said.

“I’m your friend,” said God. “And I’m telling you to get out.”

“I have to answer her,” I said to God.

I said to Mrs. Pierce: “Yes, I did make snow in my model world. And then it really did snow. But it was just a coincidence. God didn’t make it happen.”

“Oh,” said Mrs. Pierce. “I thought you wrote that a miracle had happened.”

God said:
“Get out right now!”

My hands felt slippery.

Mrs. Pierce said: “How did Neil know God ‘helped’ you, Judith?”

I looked down. “Neil read my news book.”

“Ah,” said Mrs. Pierce. “Then I
did
read it there.”

“But it’s all made up!” I said. “It’s just imaginary. I’m a good storyteller.”

“You are,” said Mrs. Pierce. “Well.” She smiled and folded her hands in her lap. “That explains that.”

“Yes.”

I thought she had finished, but then she said: “Judith, there was just one more thing. There was a conversation with God in your news book. It was so lifelike I wondered whether you ever heard voices or chatted to people—in your imagination, of course.”

“Why are you still there?”
shouted God.

“No,” I said. “I mean yes. Sometimes!”

Mrs. Pierce bent her head so that she could see my face. “And is that person God?”

“GO!”
shouted God.

I rubbed my hands back and forth over my knees. “Yes,” I said to Mrs. Pierce. “But that’s pretend too.”

Mrs. Pierce’s voice was very soft now. “What about seeing things, Judith? Do you ever see things other people don’t, things that are invisible? Do you ever see things you can’t explain?”

God shouted:
“She is going to ruin everything!”
and His voice was so loud it sort of flattened me and it took me a minute to feel three-dimensional again.

I heard Mrs. Pierce saying: “Judith, are you all right?”

She was saying something else too but I couldn’t hear her, because it was like being turned round and round.

I heard Mrs. Pierce say: “It’s all right, Judith, it’s all right; let’s stop talking about this. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just interested, that’s all.”

Then God said: “GET OUT.” And His voice was so deep and so strange I wondered if it was God at all, and it frightened me so much that I began to cry.

Mrs. Pierce said: “Judith! What’s the matter?”

I walked to the door but I couldn’t go out. Instead, I stood there, staring at the handle and it was as if my body was one big heart. I said: “I’ve never seen anything invisible, but I do believe in God. And sometimes I talk to Him,” and it was as if the words were the burning coals the angel touched to Isaiah’s lips, and saying them was like stepping off a cliff. There was a rush of heat and my blood frothed up inside me. But once I had said them I was glad, because Mrs. Pierce smiled, as if she had been hoping I would say something like this all along and knew I would manage it eventually.

She came up to me and said quietly: “Does talking to God make you unhappy, Judith?”

I opened my mouth and closed it again. I looked down at my shoes. “I don’t know,” I said.

“All right,” said Mrs. Pierce. “Sometimes it’s difficult to know what we feel, isn’t it?” She put her hand on my shoulder. “You’re a very special person, Judith, I want you to remember that. I also want you to remember that if ever you need to talk about anything—anything at all—you can come to me and talk to me in the confidence that whatever you tell me won’t go any further. And though I might not understand, I’ll do everything in my power to help you.”

*   *   *

God was silent as I walked home. It was like being in a room with someone you weren’t talking to, but I couldn’t go out of the room because it was my own head. In the end I couldn’t bear it. I said: “Why were You acting so strangely? Mrs. Pierce is our friend.”

“
I’m
your friend,” said God.

“She was just being kind,” I said. “She wants to help us.”

“If you carry on blurting things out, there won’t be any ‘us,’” said God. “You’ll be on your own. Don’t you know how dangerous it is telling people everything like that? They’ll try to separate us. They’ll tell you you’re not talking to anyone at all. They’ll tell you you’re imagining it and send you to some sort of doctor.”

“I wouldn’t listen if they did,” I said. “
I
know what’s real. I didn’t tell Mrs. Pierce anything anyway.”

“You told her far too much,” said God. “Listen, young lady: Your power depends on you doing exactly what I tell you. That’s the deal. You won’t get far without Me.”

“I’m sorry!” I said. “I’ll try to be more careful. But I don’t understand: You weren’t like this when I talked to Father or Uncle Stan.”

“That was different,” said God. “I didn’t foresee any problems with them.”

“Father didn’t believe me at all!”

“Precisely,” said God. “I mean—more fool him.” He coughed. “Listen,” He said. “If that teacher tries to talk to you again—”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I won’t say a word.”

Then I remembered something. “Oh, and God,” I said, “please don’t ever use that strange voice again.”

“WHAT, THIS ONE?” said God, and it was like being wiped out in a flash of light.

“STOP IT!”
I shouted out loud, and I put my hands over my ears.

“Sorry,” said God in His normal voice. “Better?”

I leaned up against the railings. A woman on the opposite side of the road was staring at me. I felt like crying. “Was that really You?”

“Who did it sound like?” said God.

I shuddered. “The Devil,” I said.

F
ATHER CAME HOME
late from work that evening. I knew he was going to, but it seemed an awfully long time anyway. I peeled the vegetables for dinner and put them in the saucepan. I set the table and I watered my mustard seeds. Though I didn’t know why I was bothering, as there was still nothing to be seen. Then I wrote in my journal and I told a story in the Land of Decoration about a dragon who loved roses and whenever he passed a rose tree would have to stop and sniff it but his breath charred the flowers. I couldn’t finish it. In the end I just sat on the stairs and waited.

At five to six I heard the bus and ran to the front door. Through the stained-glass picture I could see the bus. It had grates on the windows, and some were slipping off. A tomato was caught in one and what looked like egg was smeared on the window. There were six men on board. Father came down the steps, and even through the colored glass I could see how pale he looked under the streetlight. He waved to Mike, then came through the gate and I ran into the kitchen; I didn’t think he would have wanted me to see.

Father switched the kettle on. He said: “How was school?” He didn’t look at me but began lighting the fire in the Rayburn. I knew then that I mustn’t ask about work. I said: “Mrs. Pierce got cross with Neil Lewis because he tried to put my head down the toilet. But I don’t think I’ll have any more trouble with him.”

Then Father did look at me. He said: “Are you all right?”

“Oh yes,” I said. “It was nothing.”

Father frowned. He said: “Is Neil Doug’s son?”

I tried to think quickly. “I don’t know,” I said.

“Were you having trouble with him?”

“Sort of—but not anymore.”

Father said suddenly: “That’s not the kid who knocks on the door, is it?”

I looked at him and then at the fridge. “I don’t know,” I said.

Father straightened up. “Judith, you haven’t been aggravating him in any way, have you?”

“No,” I said, and my heart beat once, very hard.

“Are you sure?” Father said.

“Yes.”

“Good,” Father said; he turned back to the fire, “because trouble only begets trouble.” He stood up and closed the Rayburn door to a crack to let the air in. “And there’s more than enough of it to go round now lately.”

*   *   *

W
E READ THE
Bible while we had tea instead of clearing the table first. The study was about God being jealous. It wasn’t the way we thought of the word, Father said. It meant that God wanted people to serve only Him, that He exacted Exclusive Devotion.

My head was all tangled. I didn’t know if I was being stupid or asking a proper question, but I said: “Why must God have Exclusive Devotion?”

“Because He knows what’s best for us,” said Father.

I thought again, but for some reason what Father said still didn’t make much sense. I said: “Why?”

Father didn’t get angry as he usually does if I say “why” too much. In fact, it looked as though he was thinking about something else. He was frowning and holding his breath. And then suddenly the frown went away and he blinked and said: “What?”

Then I, too, had to think to remember what we were talking about. “Why does God know best?” I said.

“Because He knows everything,” Father said. And then he said quickly: “And He made us”—as if I should know this—as if
he
should know this—as if he should have thought of it before. Then he said: “Hang on,” and got up and went into the hall. When he came back, I said: “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

I looked at him, but he didn’t say any more, and he began to read again.

*   *   *

W
HEN
I
WENT
to bed, Father was sitting by the Rayburn in his overalls. After I had been in bed a little while, I crept back downstairs. But the kitchen light wasn’t on, the middle room one was, and through the keyhole I saw Father at his desk, sifting through bills he kept there. I was pleased he wasn’t staring at nothing like he used to and went back to bed.