Stepsister(57)

Hugo leaned back against the barn wall and groaned. “It used to be quiet here. It used to be nice,” he said. “Well, maybe not nice, but definitely quiet. Whatever my mother is screeching about, it’s because of you two. I just know it.”

Another shriek was heard. “Hugo, come on!” Isabelle said, tugging at his hand. “It sounds like she’s hurt!”

She started running towards the dairy house; the others were right behind her. When they arrived, they saw that Tantine was already there.

“I was in the kitchen … I heard screaming. Is someone hurt?” she asked, a hand pressed to her chest.

Before anyone could answer her, Hugo pushed the door to the dairy house open and stepped inside. The others followed. As Isabelle entered the room, an eye-watering stench hit her.

“What is that?” she cried.

“It’s a monster!” Madame LeBenêt shrilled. “It’s an abomination!”

She was standing at the back of the room, among the ripening cheeses, pointing at one.

Isabelle ventured closer and gasped as she saw the offender. It was a monster—wrinkled, misshapen, furry with mold.

“God in Heaven, the smell!” Tantine said, pressing a handkerchief to her nose.

“Like dirty feet.”

“Rotten eggs.”

“Like a sewer.”

“Like a dead dog,” said Hugo.

“A dead dog that’s been rotting in the sun for a week,” Isabelle added.

“And sweating,” Hugo said.

“Technically, dogs don’t sweat,” Tavi pointed out. “At least, not in the way human beings do. Dogs especially don’t sweat when they’re dead.”

“This dog does,” Hugo stated. “Look at it!”

In the short time that they’d all been standing there, beads of clear yellow fluid had erupted from the cheese. They were rolling down its sides and dripping onto the floor.

“That does it. I want you three out. Tonight!” Madame shouted.

A grin lit up Hugo’s face.

Isabelle’s heart lurched. “No, Madame, please!” she begged. “We have nowhere else to go!”

“Your sister should’ve thought of that before she ruined my cheese!”

“Now, Avara,” Tantine soothed, taking her by the arm. “Let’s not be hasty. The girl made a mistake, that’s all.”

“It was an experiment, actually, not a mistake,” Tavi corrected, peering closely at the cheese. “I’ll need to modify my hypothesis.”

“Out!” Madame sputtered. “Tonight!” She turned to her son. “Hugo, take that—that sweaty dead dog out of here this instant before it contaminates the other cheeses. Throw it into the woods or toss it into a pit!”

Tantine ushered Madame to the door. As Madame stepped outside, Tantine turned to Isabelle. “Help Hugo clean up this mess, child. I’ll set things to rights.” She patted Isabelle’s cheek, then hurried after Madame.

Isabelle pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead, trying to think. This was a disaster. What if Tantine couldn’t bring Madame around? What if she still insisted that they leave?

“Happy now?” Tavi asked a still-grinning Hugo. “You got rid of us. Be sure to throw some dirt over our bones after we starve to death in a ditch.”

“I … I didn’t think you’d starve,” Hugo said, his grin fading.

“What did you think we’d do?” Tavi asked.

“Don’t blame this on me! It’s not my fault. You’re the one who makes things hard!”

“For whom?”

“Can’t you make yourself likeable? Can’t you even try?”

Something shifted in Tavi then. She was always so flippant, trailing sarcasm behind her like a duchess trailing furs. But not this time. Hugo had pierced her armor and blood was dripping from the wound.

“Try for whom, Hugo?” she repeated, her voice raw. “For the rich boys who get to go to the Sorbonne even though they’re too stupid to solve a simple quadratic equation? For the viscount I was seated next to at a dinner who tried to put his hand up my skirt through all five courses? For the smug society ladies who look me up and down and purse their lips and say no, I won’t do for their sons because my chin is too pointed, my nose is too large, I talk too much about numbers?”

“Tavi …” Isabelle whispered. She went to her, tried to put an arm around her, but Tavi shook her off.

“I wanted books. I wanted maths and science. I wanted an education,” Tavi said, her eyes bright with emotion. “I got corsets and gowns and high-heeled slippers instead. It made me sad, Hugo. And then it made me angry. So no, I can’t make myself likeable. I’ve tried. Over and over. It doesn’t work. If I don’t like who I am, why should you?”

And then she was gone. And Hugo and Isabelle were left standing in the dairy house, awkward and silent. Isabelle reached for the mop and bucket, which were kept near the door, to clean up the mess pooling under the sweaty dead dog.

“Well done, Galileo,” Hugo muttered under his breath.

But Isabelle heard him. “She could be. She could be Galileo and Da Vinci and Newton all rolled into one if she had the chance, but she never will. That’s why she’s the way she is.” She took a tentative step towards him. “Hugo, don’t make us go. Please.”