Miss Spitfire by Sarah Miller Page B

necessary?”
    â€œIt’s this or shave her head,” I rumble, tightening my grip on Helen.
    â€œBut Miss Annie—”
    â€œYou do it, then,” I cry, thrusting the brush at her. I turn Helen loose, and as she blunders toward the feel of her mother’s footsteps, I see a shiver of terror pass over Mrs. Keller’s face. She takes a step back and Helen crashes into her.
    â€œI can’t control her, Miss Annie,” she cries. “You know that.”
    The look on her face siphons away all my fury. Fine lines lie etched all along the edges of her delicate mouth, and her eyes swim with hurt. I slink from the bed, pulling the Perkins doll with me, and put it into Helen’s thrashing arms. The tide of her anger turns, and Helen retreats to the corner with her plaything. “Oh, Mrs. Keller,” I sigh. “Don’t you see? The problem isn’t Helen, it’s you.”
    â€œMe?” She looks stung.
    â€œAll of you. You and the captain and Miss Eveline. You’ve given Helen nothing but pity, and it’s turned her into a tyrant.”
    â€œWe’ve been through this more than once,” she says, shaking her head. “How can I expect her to behave any other way?”
    â€œYou expect better behavior from the captain’shounds than from your own daughter. She needs discipline, not coddling.”
    â€œHow can I discipline her? She doesn’t understand.”
    â€œShe understands plenty—even a dog understands when his master scolds him, and Helen’s smarter than any dog I know. She knows all she has to do is throw a fit or dampen her cheeks, and the world is hers. She understands what you don’t—that when you or the captain are here, I have no power over her.”
    â€œWhat would you have us do? We’re her parents.”
    At last I can speak the words that have been brewing in my head: “Let me take her away somewhere.”
    Her head jerks up. “Away? Why?”
    I understand her fear. The idea frightens me a little.
    â€œI’ve tried everything I know. I can’t win her love—she won’t have any caressing from me. I can’t win her confidence because she accepts everything I do for her as a matter of course. There’s no coaxing or compromising with her. She will or she won’t, and that’s the end of it. Sympathy, affection, and fairness mean nothing to her. I’ve studied, planned, and prepared, but nothing I’ve learned fits. All I know is that I can’t accomplish anything in this house. As long as Helen can run to you for protection, she won’t learn a thing.”
    â€œDoes she need protection, Miss Annie?”
    The word strikes me like a barb. “What do
you
think, Mrs. Keller?” I blurt, displaying all my wounds at once: a broken tooth, bruised and battered shins, arms decorated with scratches and bite marks. “And if you ever scrub those filthy hands of hers, you’ll find most of my skin under her nails!” Mrs. Keller’s eyes flutter across my injuries. She reaches for me, then draws back to rub at a sore spot above her own elbow.
    â€œI won’t say I’m not harsh with Helen,” I tell her, my tone softer, “but you’ve never found a mark on her, have you, now?”
    She shakes her head, then asks, after a moment, “How long would you keep her?”
    â€œUntil she learns to obey and depend on me. A few weeks at least.”
    For a long time she says nothing. I feel my hand moving in and out of the silence like a needle through cloth. I look down.
P-l-e-a-s-e,
I’m spelling to myself.
Please, Mrs. Keller, please.
    She doesn’t speak for so long my knees begin to ache, but the quiet hangs too heavy to disturb.
    Finally she looks up and says, “I’ll talk it over with the captain.”
    The captain. Oh, all is lost now.
    I nod at Mrs. Keller, my head reeling. She goes out of the room. My feet carry me