The Different Girl

just like she would pat ours when we said something smart. And sometimes Robbert would surprise Irene, by making tea when she hadn’t had time, or ask us to sing a song as a surprise, and Irene would smile.
    But they didn’t hold hands with each other the way they’d taught us to, even when they weren’t already carrying things like teacups or notebooks. Caroline once asked Irene why not, and Irene said, “That’s because we’re all grown up.”
    “Will we stop holding hands when we’re grown up, too?”
    “That will be up to you.”
    That was another time when Irene had patted someone’s head—that day Caroline—because she’d said something to make her smile, but now I had more of Irene’s smiles to compare with one another, and I knew her smile that day was like the smiles when we found her thinking about something else.
    • • •
    Robbert saw we were lined up, waiting. He slung his satchel over one shoulder and told us to walk in pairs and pay attention. I took Eleanor’s hand and we followed Robbert to the dock, or almost to the dock, because we stopped at the crest of the path, so we could see down all the way to the water. Robbert scuffed with his toe, shoving the red dirt into a little mound. He reached into the satchel and took out a sealed plastic tub, the kind we used to store uneaten food.
    “What’s that?” asked Eleanor.
    “Rice.” Robbert set the tub on the little mound and stepped away.
    From there we followed Robbert around the island in a wandering path—to the beach, through the meadow, and to the trees, in each spot leaving a plastic tub of rice. I hoped there wouldn’t be any extra dinner that night, because we wouldn’t have any tubs to store it. At each spot Robbert made a point of turning a circle with his eyes, studying the landscape. When we started up the hill to the cliffs, we saw Irene walking down toward us. She waved and the four of us waved back.
    “Any luck?” Robbert called.
    Irene shook her head. She had a plastic jug of water slung over her shoulder.
    “We’ve been putting out rice,” called Isobel.
    “We certainly have,” said Robbert. He took another tub from his satchel and looked for a place to put it. “How about some rocks?”
    Because we had done this on the beach with coral, we knew what he meant, and scattered to find rocks to make a pyramid so the tub of rice would be more visible.
    “I’ve got two more left,” Robbert told Irene. “I was thinking one on the cliff trail and one higher up.”
    “Why don’t you do those by yourself?”
    “Good idea. Nothing?”
    Irene shook her head. Robbert huffed through his nose. By then we were piling the rocks we’d found. We stepped back so Robbert could set down the tub.
    “These are for May, aren’t they?” I asked.
    “We don’t want her to go hungry,” said Irene.
    “Or thirsty,” said Caroline, pointing to the jug of water.
    “No,” said Irene. “Maybe I’ll leave this here, too.”
    She slipped the strap off her shoulder and set it down next to the tub.
    “Do we need another pyramid?” asked Isobel.
    Irene shook her head, then she clapped her hands. “All right—now I’m hungry. Let’s see what we can find for dinner.”
    She held out her hands for Isobel and Caroline, so once more I took Eleanor’s, and we fell in step down the hill. Eleanor looked back, and then so did I, just in time to see Robbert disappear around the turn.
    • • •
    Irene sent us on to the kitchen, while she went into the classroom. She joined us only a few minutes later, so whatever she needed to do hadn’t taken long. Once more we used a new recipe to make soup—dried vegetables, rice, and vegetable protein, but not as much of any as usual. “I’ve become a little fat,” Irene explained, and she patted her stomach with the flat of hand, making a whap sound.
    “Are we fat, too?” asked Eleanor. She was cutting the square of vegetable protein into strips, almost like noodles.
    “Of course not,” Irene replied. “You are all perfect. I remember being that big. It was a very nice size.”
    Isobel tipped a cup of rice into the pot. “If you keep eating less, will you be our size again?”
    “That would be nice, wouldn’t it? But that isn’t how it works.”
    “If we ate things would we get big as you?” I asked.
    “That isn’t how it works, either,” said Irene. “We’re a little different, even if we look the same, or look a lot the same. And everything eats something