That is a lie. He’s the one who smuggles me my news stories, even a book every now and again, in exchange for helping him with this dark deed or that one. So I do want whatever he has. But I ain’t about to tell him that.
He tilts his head, his smile fading and a serious look taking its place. “Oh, this you do. Trust me.”
I blink, because I ain’t used to such solemnity from Jackson. I once saw him beat a man near to death, all while wearing a smile.
I spy Miss Duncan heading back our way and I nod. “Not tonight. Tomorrow.”
The smile reappears, and he gives me a low bow. “I’ll count the minutes.”
I snort. “I doubt you can count that high.”
He gives me a wink, and just as quickly as he appeared, he fades back into the crowd of respectable folk moving down the sidewalks, anxious to finish their business and get inside before dark.
I move back to the knot of girls just as Miss Duncan rejoins our group. Her cheeks are flushed, and she wears an expression that says she’d like nothing more than to smack someone. That’s what trying to deal with one of them carriage drivers will do to you. They’re as frustrating as Jackson, but without the charm.
“All right, ladies, let’s make our way down to the university. We don’t want to be late for the lecture.” Miss Duncan sets off at a trot, and we all follow her. Running might be undignified for well-bred ladies, but for a passel of Negro girls destined to work cleanup, it’s just fine.
Katherine falls back next to me, her face reddening after only a few steps. I glance at her out of the corner of my eyes and can’t help but shake my head. She sees me and her already sour expression turns stormy.
“What, Jane?”
“You shouldn’t have worn that corset. That thing is going to get you killed.”
“This thing happens to be the height of fashion. But I’m not surprised you don’t know that.”
“Kate, I like pretty clothes as much as the next girl, but I ain’t about to let them kill me.”
She sniffs and adjusts her gloves. “It’s Katherine, Jane McKeene, and you know that. Never you mind about me, who was that ruffian you were speaking with?”
“Ruffian? What ruffian? I’m afraid I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
She stumbles on a cobblestone and I reach out to catch her, steadying her with a light touch to her elbow. She shakes off my hand and picks up the pace.
“That guy. With the . . . natty . . . waistcoat.” Already Katherine is out of breath, and we’ve only gone a short ways. If we keep on like this, she’s going to faint and end up splayed out on the road like a well-dressed corpse.
I hop-skip a little, falling back from the group. “Miss Duncan,” I call, doing my hop-skip-limp. “I think I got a rock in my shoe!”
Miss Duncan half turns but doesn’t break stride. “Katherine, wait for Jane. You two catch up to us at the university.”
I wave at Miss Duncan in acknowledgment and hop over to a nearby stoop. Katherine is panting at this point, her hair half fallen down after our impromptu trot.
“Stand up straight,” I tell her. “You bend over like that and you’re gonna be kissing the road.”
She does, still gasping for breath, and gestures at my shoe. “Well, get your rock.”
I snort. “I ain’t got no rock in my shoe, I did that so you could catch a breath. You get found out wearing that corset you’re gonna be on kitchen duty for a month.”
Katherine takes a handkerchief and dabs at the sweat on her lip, her eyes meeting mine with a grimace. “And why do you care?”
I smile. “No reason at all. I’m just being a good Christian.” At her look of disbelief I shrug. “Should we start walking?”
Katherine watches me for another long moment before nodding. I climb to my feet and we make our way the few remaining blocks to the university in silence.
Outside the imposing columned entryway of the school the steps are already clear. I make to walk inside, but Katherine stops me with a firm hand. “You never told me who it was you were talking to, Jane. That coarse-looking fellow. You know courting isn’t allowed.”
I smile, showing all my teeth, and tilt my head to the side. The things Jackson and I used to do can’t really be called “courting,” but Katherine doesn’t need to know that. And now our connection is purely business, no matter what my heart might say every now and again.
“Why, that was no one, Katherine. Just like you ain’t wearing a corset. Right?”
Katherine opens and closes her mouth a few times, but she’s caught in a snare. So she says nothing and settles for storming up the steps in a fine flounce. I follow her a little more leisurely. Blackmail ain’t really my thing; I prefer more direct kinds of sneakery, like lying and stealing. But I can’t have Miss Duncan or any of the other instructors finding out about what I do with Jackson on the side, so this is what I’m reduced to.
We live in a terribly ruthless world.
I wish I could explain to you how fascinating and stimulating are the lectures that we receive here at Miss Preston’s, but I’m afraid my descriptions will never do them justice. . . .
Chapter 5In Which I Attend a Very Educational Lecture
The Baltimore University of Surgery, Medicine, and Thanatology is located in a fine building, meticulously restored in the years since Baltimore was reclaimed. The entry doors are made of wrought iron and glass, and just past them, marble columns and impressive oil paintings of bearded white men line the hallways. Like Miss Preston’s, the building gives off the feeling that important learning is happening somewhere, somehow, someway. Unlike Miss Preston’s, there is no lively chatter or the tantalizing smells of supper. Instead, a faint, foul chemical smell and
