The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove by Marta Acosta

was going to help me get a job.
    I pretended to listen while I watched Lucky slouching against the counter.
    His nose was long and straight and he had a small cleft in his chin. He was
    gazing out the window at the school and town below.
    I remembered the blood-soaked paper towel I’d left on the counter and I
    took my glass to the sink, intending to pick it up so that Mrs. Madison didn’t have
    to clean up after me. It was already gone.
    Then Jack, wearing a clean version of his previous outfit, returned with a
    tall, handsome older man at his side.
    “Right on time for dinner, dear,” Mrs. Monroe said to the older man.
    “Jane, this is my husband, Mr. Monroe. Tobias, this is my new student, Jane
    Williams.”
    “Pleased to meet you,” Mr. Monroe said with the briefest of smiles. His
    blond hair was shot through with silver and his eyes were the pale blue of the
    early morning sky. He was as tall as Lucky, but thin and there were grayish
    shadows under his eyes. On his wrist a heavy gold watch slid loosely, as if it was
    intended for a bigger man.
    The dinner was more lavish than Easter dinner at Mrs. Richards. We had
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    roast chicken, green salad, red cabbage slaw, mashed potatoes, and warm crusty
    bread. It would have been a perfect meal except that when I cut into the chicken,
    I saw blood at the bone. I tried to eat around the raw part and then hid the barely
    eaten meat under lettuce leaves.
    We even had dessert, strawberry shortcake, topped with whipped cream and
    oozing with sweet ruby juices.
    I try to recollect that first dinner with the Monroes, but all I remember was
    the strangeness of sitting with what I thought was a happy family. Mr. Monroe
    was pleasant, but distracted, often staring out the window. Mrs. Monroe made
    polite conversation with her sons and me about weather, the neighborhood,
    school.
    The oddest thing about the family was Jack, who looked quite different
    from his tall, pale family. Sometimes I caught him watching me, but I couldn’t
    tell what he was thinking behind those clear green eyes.
    Some of the kids at the group home had talked dreamily about family life
    before : before mom got on the pipe, before dad got sent up, before sickness,
    poverty, mental illness, and death pressed down upon their lives until they broke
    apart like the cheap plastic toys we got at Christmas.
    “Jane, what sports do you play?” Lucky asked.
    “I don’t do sports.” Sports cost money and time, and I had had neither.
    “We’ll have to find one for you,” Mrs. Monroe said. “We’re happiest
    when we exercise both our minds and our bodies.” Her eyes slid toward her
    husband as he poured another glass of red wine for himself. “Tobias, what do you
    think?”
    He took a long drink and looked at me, as if trying to size me. “I don’t
    know. Golf?”
    Lucky laughed and said, “The clubs are bigger than she is! I’ve still got
    my kiddie set, though.”
    What could be more pointless than hitting a tiny ball around a giant lawn
    with a stick? “I don’t think I’d like golf.”
    “Get a bike,” Jack said. “It’s a sport and transportation and it doesn’t
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    spew toxic fumes. You can even build your own. I did.”
    “These hills are too steep for a beginner,” Mrs. Monroe said. “Jane, you
    can talk to the sports clubs at orientation on Monday and see if any interest you.”
    I knew sports helped on college applications, but there had to be a way
    around them. The headmistress saw my reluctance and said, “If you don’t want to
    join a team now, you can do it later. We have something for everyone.”
    “Anyone can ride a bike,” Jack said. “Even an elf.”
    “Jacob, stop teasing Jane. Not every appreciates your sense of humor.”
    Mrs. Monroe said. “Boys, clear the table.”
    She walked me to the front door and said, “Would you like Lucian or
    Jacob to walk you