Silence Is Golden

Mary was recovering well and Veronica’s project with Sylvie was progressing. The changes in the plants were becoming visible. It had been Sylvie’s idea to rob one plant of light by putting it in a closet and rob it of nourishment by feeding it poison, but it had been Veronica’s idea to rob the plant emotionally. Every day while Sylvie cooked, Veronica opened the closet and sneered at her plant. She gave it dirty looks and said mean things to it. She told it it was weird. She told it it didn’t fit in. She told it she didn’t like it. She wished she was talking to some of her classmates. They made her feel bad just because she cared that her dog died. Well, the worst thing that had probably ever happened to any of them was having a stupid cashmere sweater cut in half.

Every day after they ate, Sylvie loaded the dishwasher while Veronica sponged up. Then they brought the closet plant out and put it next to the window plant. Veronica drew pictures of the plants, charting any changes in their appearance. And Sylvie made notations of the changes on a graph. Veronica was comfortable at Sylvie’s. When she used to go to Cricket’s house she talked all the time, about anything. She remembered once being so desperate for a topic she actually went on and on about fingernails because she was certain that if Cricket got bored, Cricket wouldn’t invite her over again. Veronica enjoyed that talking wasn’t required when she was with Sylvie.

Sylvie’s parents obviously worked a lot, because they were never home. Veronica hadn’t met either of them. It was strange how the absence of authority inspired such good habits. She and Sylvie could have goofed off all afternoon. But they never did. Mary always made Veronica sit up straight at her desk to do her homework but Sylvie insisted on working at the coffee table sitting on the floor. Veronica liked being on the floor too. The drawing part of science was fun. She had just invented a way of layering similar colors to create a kind of 3-D effect. Coloring used to frustrate Veronica because the colors that were in her pencil sets were so limited and nature never was. Yes, the leaves of plants were green and the bark of trees was brown but leaves were about twenty different greens and bark was so many colors. But as a reward for her hard work on the Carver family apologies, her parents had given her a new set of colored pencils with over one hundred colors.

When the doorman buzzed up saying that Mrs. Morgan was in the lobby, Veronica was startled. She had no idea it had gotten so late.

*   *   *

Fifth Avenue was noisy with the sounds of rush hour surging around them. Buses, cars, and bicycles seemed to be veering in and out of every empty space. It was always such a shock to reenter the world after Sylvie’s.

On the way home, Mrs. Morgan asked, “What do you do there? I’m dying to know if you’re beginning to get a sense of her.”

“She makes good snacks,” Veronica said.

“That’s interesting. Such as?” her mother asked, and smoothed Veronica’s hat down over her ears in a way Veronica hated.

“Today we had grilled cheese sandwiches and a salad with pears and walnuts.”

“That does sound good,” Mrs. Morgan said.

Veronica shifted her backpack and put her hand inside her mother’s. Sometimes holding hands made her mother stop asking so many questions. Veronica didn’t feel like talking.