Writing Free

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Chapter Ten

     At dinner on the night before graduation, my father announced he was leaving for Dallas the next morning. He offered no explanation, nor did he apologize for the fact he would miss the exercises.

Mother was still in bed when Edward arrived at noon the next day. He told Mrs. Flowers not to bother with lunch and took me to Bascom’s for a soda instead. Mother still wasn’t up when we got home later. Mrs. Flowers said she was awake, though, and that she’d just taken her   some tea and toast.

     “Does Mother have her sick headaches often?” Edward asked me.

     I shrugged. “Depends on what you call often. Sometimes she stays up there two or three days at a time, especially when Father’s away on business.”

     Mrs. Flowers set out an early buffet in the dining room for us. When Edward came in, he said, “Mother’s still not feeling well. She won’t be going to graduation tonight.”

     I could hardly believe my luck. Mother’s disdain for most of the people in town humiliated me, and I hadn’t been looking forward to her presence at the school. Then I thought of the dress hidden in the back of my closet and smiled. “That’s too bad,” I said, turning my head to hide my face from Edward. I filled my plate to overflowing.

     Afterwards, feeling a little guilty, I hauled myself upstairs and knocked on her door. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well,” I said, opening the door a crack and looking in. She was sprawled on the chaise lounge by the window. An odd smell permeated the stale air.

     She looked at me blankly. “What do you want?”

     I stepped inside. “I just came to tell you I’m sorry you’re not feeling well and will miss graduation.” It was all a lie, of course.

Her laugh had a grating quality. “Such a dutiful daughter!”

     “I don’t want to quarrel with you,” I said, stung by her words even though I didn’t value her opinion. “I’m going down to dress now.” I turned around and stumbled over something at the edge of the rug. An empty wine bottle rolled away toward the corner. Suddenly everything made sense. “You’re drunk!” I said before I thought.

     She laughed again. “Not as drunk as I’ll be before the night’s over!”

     I turned around. “Why?”

     “How else do you think I’ve lived all these years with Daniel Kroll. . .and you?”

     I stared at her as she struggled to her feet and walked unsteadily toward me. I’d never seen her so disheveled. Her uncombed hair streamed down her back, and her negligee hung open in front. It was too obvious she wore nothing underneath. I blushed and dropped my eyes.

     “I was a beauty once.” Her words, though slurred, were clear. “Of all the debutantes in the spring of 1910, I was the one they all looked at. . .every man of them, eligible or not. My dance card was always full. But Geoff had brought Daniel home with him from the University of Virginia, and he was the only man I could see.”

     I turned to go. “That was a long time ago,” I said.

Her hand closed around my arm, her nails digging into my flesh. “Not so long. Twenty-five years.”

     “You’re hurting my arm.”

     She let go and reached for my hair. “I had hair just like this. He used to twist it around his fingers and tell me it was like spun silk.”

     I pulled away. “Don’t.”

     “We were married in the fall,” she went on in a sing-song voice. “It was still warm, and we had the reception in the garden. It was the biggest wedding the county had seen in a year. Geoff drove us to take the train to New York City. We had a drawing room compartment.. .and the porter had made up the bed. . .I could hardly wait for Daniel to. . .” She swayed and clutched for me to steady herself. “God, what a farce! He couldn’t even. . .”

     “Mother, please!” I interrupted.

     “There was no question of an annulment, of course,” she went on in a minute. “Such things weren’t done in our circle. So I pretended to be the happy bride. . .the loving wife. No one knew. The few times he managed to. . .” Her face contorted. “I always vomited afterwards. It was three years before he sired Edward. Even that was a disgusting experience.”

     My supper rose in my throat. I backed away from her, but she followed me. I felt the wall at my back.

     “Edward was almost six that summer we went back to Richmond for Geoff’s wedding to Fiona. I decided to stay on for a visit, and my father bought me a new mare and had it brought over from Cliffside. Earl Clifton had finished Harvard the year before, but he hadn’t been able to take his Grand Tour because of the war in Europe. He’d come home instead to work at the Clifton Mills with his father. That was how he came to bring the mare over himself. He rode with me that day. . .and the day after that. . .and the next.”

     She took a long, shuddering breath and wove her way slowly back to the chaise where she dropped down. The silk robe fell completely away from her shoulders exposing her breasts. I wanted to leave but felt frozen to the floor.

     “There was a little fishing hut on the river. When he showed it to me one day and asked me to go inside with him, I didn’t even have to think about it! I may have wanted him even more than he wanted me.”

     A fresh wave of nausea swept over me. “Please don’t say anymore,” I begged, trying to make my feet move.

     “I’d never known what it was like to have a real man, but I knew that summer. I can still smell him. . .taste him. . ..”

     “For god’s sake, Mother, shut up!”

     “When Daniel came out to bring us back to Danford, I already knew I was pregnant, and of course, he knew it wasn’t his. He threatened to divorce me and take Edward, but my father and Geoff talked to him. I always thought they knew something about him. . .something they used to make him back down. . .

    “We came back to Danford, and you were born the next spring. Dr. Crumley was here then, and he was half-senile. I lay up here in agony for two days before he managed to jerk you out of me. But you were beautiful. . .as beautiful as I’d been. . .and I had so many plans for you. So many plans before. . .”

     “Before I became a cripple,” I whispered hoarsely.

     “Yes.” There was a slight tinkle of ice as she poured herself a fresh drink. “Go on,” she said distantly. “You’ll be late for your graduation, Miss Kroll. Miss Marian Fancher Kroll. God, how Daniel hated to give you his name! He said he’d never thought he’d see the day when the Kroll name would belong to a bastard!”

     I never remembered getting out of the room or down the stairs or taking my dress out of its hiding place and putting it on. But I would never forget the look on Edward’s face when he knocked on my door later, and I greeted him with, “Have you come to escort your bastard sister to her graduation?”

     There was no shock on his face, only searing pain. “Oh, Marian,” he said softly, “you were never to know.”

     Just before seven o’clock on a muggy May evening, the Class of 1935 gathered in the foyer of the school auditorium. It had sprinkled earlier, but the temperature still hovered around eighty-five, and we stood holding the heavy robes smelling of moth balls until we absolutely had to put them on.

     Francie stared at my dress with her mother’s lace expertly sewn around the neck and hem. “How’d you get out of the house in it?”

     I curled my lip at her. She hated that. “I walked.”

     Tank frowned at Francie. “It’s a real nice dress,” he said. “All of you girls look gorgeous. Don’t you think so, Bix?”

     Bix stuck the note cards for his valedictory address in his pocket. “Yeah, sure,” he said distractedly. “Everything’s very nice.” Then he looked hard at me. “Did you make that dress, Mari?”

     “I certainly did.”

     The admiration in his eyes almost made me forget the humiliation of learning the circumstances of my birth.

     “You got your speech ready?” Tank asked Francie.

     She straightened her cap on the fly-away black curls. “Yep. You still can’t believe I made salutatorian, can you? You thought I didn’t have anything on my mind except pep-leading.”

     He grinned good-naturedly. “Sure, I did—me.”

     She wrinkled her nose at him. “You wish!”

     I looked around for Peggy and saw her sipping water out of a paper cup while Vic hovered. She was pregnant, all right. I wondered if he knew.

     The exercises were mercifully short, and we peeled out of our robes as soon as we’d marched out. Peggy headed for the girls’ room in a hurry, and I followed her. Both of us vomited noisily. Afterwards we leaned against the sinks and bathed our faces with wet paper towels and looked at each other miserably.

     “It’s kind of late in the day for morning sickness,” I said softly.

     Peggy hunched her shoulders.

     “It’s okay, krolik. I’ve known for awhile. I’ve been worried about you. Does Vic know?”

     She shook her head. “I’ll tell him tonight, I guess. I’m so sick, Peaches. I’m scared.”

     I put my arm around her thin shoulders. “I know, but you’ll be all right.”

      Francie came in then. “What are you two doing in here so long?”

     “Being sick,” I said.

     “Both of you?” Francie closed the door behind her. “What’s going on?”

       “The heat,” I said. “And those robes. They smelled awful.”

     The big fans were on in the gym, and Francie put two chairs in front of one and insisted that we sit down and brought us paper cups of lemonade. Vic hovered over Peggy anxiously.

     We all admired each other’s dresses, and when I said I’d made mine myself, one of the Hardegrees said,“That dress could’ve come right out of Nieman-Marcus!”

     “The one I didn’t wear did,” I shot back, then smiled apologetically.

     “I take back what I said about you being the pig in the pond,” the other Hardegree said and laughed heartily. “We’re all glad you came back to Danford for high school.”

     “You’re just glad you didn’t have to make those gym suits!”

     “That, too.”

     I didn’t feel like dancing. “You go on and dance,” I told Bix. “You don’t have to sit here with me.”

     He shrugged. “It’s okay. So when are you leaving for Vassar?”

     “I’m not.”

     “What?”

     “I don’t want to go.”

     “You’re passing up a chance to go to Vassar? Do you realize. . .”

     “I know exactly what it is,” I said, “and I don’t want to go.”

     “That’s crazy.”

     I shrugged.

     “If I could go to Harvard, I’d go in a heartbeat.”

     “Why?”

     “Because it’s got prestige.”

     “Edward would rather have gone to the University.”

     “I can’t believe that.”

     “Well, you don’t have to. And I’d just as soon you didn’t say anything about Vassar to anyone else.”

     Just after ten o’clock, Mr. Nunn played Auld Lang Syne on the phonograph, and everyone stood with their arms around each other while we sang. As the music died away, someone called out, “Hey, Francie and Peggy, how about one more cheer for good old Danford High?”

     Francie dropped Tank’s hand and sprinted up the steps to the ramp six feet above the gym floor. Before Vic could stop her, Peggy had followed. They linked arms and began their favorite routine while students and teachers clapped their hands enthusiastically. Just as they bent their knees for the final leap, Peggy swayed dizzily, clutched for Francie and missed, and plunged off the ramp, hitting the polished floor with a dull thud.

     I stared at her in disbelief.

     Vic’s anguished cry could be heard above the screams of the others as he elbowed his way through the crowd. “Peg! Peg! Oh, my god, Peg!” He half vaulted over the tangle of the people who were pushing in around Peggy’s still body. He knelt beside her and cradled her in his arms. “Somebody help!” he cried. “Please, somebody help us!”

     Coach Mack reached him first. “Carry her out to my car. Mr. Nunn went to call Doc to meet us at the hospital.”

     Tank stuffed Francie and me into his pickup, and Bix crawled in the back despite his new suit. The coach’s car rattled along the unpaved road and over the railroad tracks with Tank’s truck so close behind them that his headlights lit up the inside. Doc was pulling up as we arrived. He held the door for Vic to carry Peggy inside. “Put her on the table there,” he said brusquely. “What happened?”

     The rest of us stood outside the open door and listened.

     “She fell off the ramp in the gym,” Vic said tightly. He held Peggy’s hands as Doc listened for her heart.

     As the doctor took her head between his hands and moved it carefully, she stirred and opened her eyes. “Vic?”

     “I’m here, Peg. You’ll be okay.”

     She moaned a little, then tore her hands from his, clutched her stomach, and screamed. Doc reached across the examining table and grabbed Vic’s arm roughly. “Is this girl pregnant?”

     Vic’s mouth dropped open. “No!”

     “Dammit, boy, tell me the truth! How long?” He shoved Peggy's dress up around her waist. Bright red blood was already staining the white sheet beneath her. “How long, dammit?”

     Vic shook his head in disbelief.

     “Well, that’s fine!” Doc said sarcastically. “Couldn’t wait, could you?” He turned to Ruby Bullock, the nurse who’d just come in. “Get her upstairs and prep her, and call Jo. I’ll probably have to go in!”

     Peggy, writhing beneath Doc’s rough hands, reached out for Vic. “I’m scared, Vic! I don’t want to die!”

     “You’re not going to die, Peg,” Vic said shakily, bending over her protectively.

     Peggy moaned again. Ruby tossed a sheet over her exposed legs and turned the table toward the door When Vic tried to follow, Doc shoved him against the wall. “You by god get out of the way unless you want her to bleed out right here and now!”

     “Vic!” Peggy whimpered, reaching for him.

     Vic tried to get past the doctor, instinctively drawing back his fist as he was stopped again. “Haven’t you done enough damage?” Doc growled contemptuously.

Chapter Nine

   When my parents stayed away until the end of October, I felt like I was in Heaven. After the night Bix stood up for Vic, we began to keep company, at least at school and on Friday nights even after football season ended. I noticed he treated Peggy a lot nicer, too, when we’d clean the kitchen at the boarding house. After helping Vic there, he knew his way around. Even Francie stayed off his case, whether for his sake or Peggy’s, I didn’t know and didn’t care.

   Then my parents came home, and it was all over. I tried to think about what Edward said--how I had to be grateful for what I had--but it wasn’t easy. Grover drove me to school every morning and home every afternoon. He never commented about Bix carrying my books and walking me to the car. Bix started leaving notes in my literature book.

   “I’m going to be a lawyer,” he told me. “A rich one. Mother won’t have to work, and Laura can have everything she wants.”

   “Material things aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” I wrote back. “I should know.”

   At Christmas I had to go to Richmond with my parents, but at least Edward was there, and he’d bought a car with some of his trust money. He took me to Atlanta for a week after Christmas, where Valerie and her parents welcomed me with open arms.

   “You’re going to marry her, aren’t you?” I asked Edward as we drove back to Richmond.

   “Yes, I am.”

   “She’s perfect for you.”

   “She completes me.”

   “What do you mean?”

   He didn’t say anything for a few minutes. “I never really had anyone to love but you, Marian. From the minute I saw you, I knew you were mine to love and care for.”

   “You’ve done that,” I assured him.

   “And it’s much the same with Valerie. I’m not sure I can explain it, but I feel one with her.”

   “I hope I can say that about someone someday.”

   We’ve been separated so much. But I have the chance--after I graduate next spring--to work for an oil and gas company in San Angelo, so we’ll be closer. When I’m established, Valerie and I can be married, and she’ll be in San Angelo with me.”

   “I thought Father wanted you to work for Uncle Geoff in Richmond.”

   “I told him I had to make my own way.”

   “He didn’t like that, I’ll bet.” I wondered how Edward had finally managed the courage to stand up to Father, but at least he’d done it.

   “No, but it’s done.”

   “It will be wonderful to have you so close--and Valerie, too.”

   “She supports my decision completely, even though it means waiting a year to be married.”

   “Do you think I can make my own way, too, Edward? I mean, not living our parents’ lives?”

   He turned his smile on me. “Of course you can, my dear little sister. I think you’ve already made a start.”

   For the first time in years, I could say I’d had a good Christmas. The others had, too. Peggy showed me the gold heart-shaped locket Vic had given her with her name engraved on it. “It’s real gold, too,” she said. “Mr. Brock is letting him pay it out. He said he wanted the best because I’m the best.” She said she’d spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at the ranch. “Vic says Miss Grace petted met to death.”

   “Why not? You deserve it. And you are the best, Peggy. You and Francie.”

   The tip of her nose got pink like it did when she was embarrassed. “Vic stayed, too. It was such fun, Peaches! It was like having a real family. Francie and her mother don’t do Christmas, but they were there for dinner anyway. And I stayed with them every weekend like always.”

   On the first day back at school, Bix stood on the curb waiting when Grover pulled up. He took my books and my lunch and hurried me--if I could hurry at all--to a corner of the porch overhang. “I’m sorry I couldn’t write to you.”

   “I missed our notes. Did you have a nice holiday?”

   “I got lots of extra hours at Baker’s. Enough money to buy Laura the doll she saw in Birnbaum’s window.”

    “That was nice of you.”

   “And I told Mother we were friends, but she already knew.”

   “What did she say?”

   “She said it was all right but to be careful not to make things hard for you. With your parents, I mean.”

   "I promised Edward I wouldn’t sneak around.”

   “She asked me how you were.”

   “Doc told her about those pills, didn’t he?”

   Bix looked guilty. “Yeah.”

   “They’re gone forever.”

   “How did your father. . .”

   “I don’t know. Edward said things were out there if you wanted them. Like Vic’s father gets his hooch.”

   “They made you real sick, didn’t they?”

   “Doc shouldn’t have talked to your mother about me, but yes, they did. I’m all right now though.”

   “I’m glad. And I’m glad we’re friends, Mari.”

   I looked up at him. He seemed suddenly even more handsome than I remembered. “I am, too.”

   We got through the rest of the year without more disaster. Peggy actually plumped up a little, and while Vic still hovered over her, he didn’t act like he was angry at the whole world. Tank was always Tank, and Francie still made me mad on a regular basis. But the six of us managed what good times together we could get. I cried when my parents told me we were going back to Richmond again for the summer.

   They left me with Uncle Geoff and Aunt Fiona while they attended Edward’s graduation from Harvard. I hadn’t unpacked more than a few necessities because I knew he’d take me to Atlanta as soon as he could. Again, Valerie welcomed me, wrapping me in a gentle embrace and telling me how happy she would be when we were truly sisters.

   I sent Peggy and Francie--and Bix--the address of the Preston estate, and they all wrote regularly. Peggy was back working for Mr. Bascom again. Vic had a new job setting type at the newspaper, but he still cleaned at the plant and also came by at night to help her in the boarding house kitchen. Francie had the youngest Nunn child three days a week and cleaned houses another three days, helped her mother at the bank on Sundays, and spent as much time with Tank as she could.

   Bix’s letters were long and rambling, and I loved reading every word. It wasn’t what he did--working for Baker’s and part-time as an orderly at the hospital--that was so interesting. Rather, his dreams for the future filled me with excitement for him and also for me when he hinted he wanted me to be part of them. I worried a little that being important and having a lot of money seemed to take precedence over everything else, but I loved the idea of a future with him. It would be a slap in my parents’ faces to have their daughter marry the son of the man unjustly accused of stealing money from Father’s bank.

   On the third of September, 1934, I stood on the high school porch with the other seniors looking down at the new freshmen huddled on the lawn below. “Seems like we were just down there,” Tank observed. “And next year we won’t even be here.”

   “I don’t want to think about it,” I snapped.

   “I do,” Bix said. “I want to get out of here.”

   “Me, too,” Vic said. “And you can bet Peg and I are going the day after graduation.”

   I saw Peggy duck her head like she hadn’t done in a long time.

   “We’re going all the way to the playoffs this year,” Tank said, changing the subject.

   “I just hope our pep squad uniforms hold up through football season,” Francie said.

   “I’ll look at them this week and fix what I can,” I offered. “Or maybe we can get material for new ones.”

   “With what?” she shot back.

   Words formed on my tongue, but then I thought, You’re scared, too, just like I am. It’s all going to be over, all the good times, and then what?

   The bell clanged, and Mr. Nunn swung open the doors which had almost knocked me down two years earlier. “All right, all you devoted scholars,” he said with a wink, “let’s get this year started.”

   We did go to the playoffs. We’d held what seemed like two hundred bake sales to earn the money for the band and the pep squad to go on the train to Dallas. Mr. Birnbaum made up the money we lacked, and Baker’s donated groceries for sack lunches. The Baptist ladies, prodded by Miss Grace, supplied us with enough cookies to pave the road between Danford and San Angelo. It was Edward, now working in San Angelo, who persuaded my parents to let me go by paying his own way on the train to act as my chaperone.

   The day would remain a shining moment in all our lives because we won the state championship, thanks to Vic’s three touchdowns, Bix’s thirty-yard field goal, and Tank’s solid, immovable bulk. Bix found us seats in the back of the train for the trip home and held my hand the whole way.

   The train was delayed at two stops, so it was three o’clock in the morning before it pulled into Danford. Coach Mack and Mr. Nunn, along with their wives, who’d gone along as chaperones for the girls, began to wake everyone up. Francie, curled like a cat against Tank, opened her eyes and looked around for Peggy. “She’s gone!” she shrieked when she didn’t see her by Vic. “We’ve lost Peggy!”

   “She’s here somewhere,”

   Francie shook her black curls wildly. “No, she’s not. We’ve lost her. She fell off the train. I just know she did!”

   “Shut up, Francie,” I said in disgust as I tried to wrestle my brace back on, aware that Bix was looking away in embarrassment. “How would she get lost or fall off the train?”

   Vic untangled himself from the blanket he’d brought alone. “She was here,” he said, shaking out the blanket as if he expected to find her in its folds.

   Francie dropped to her hands and knees and began to look under the seats. “Francie, a rat wouldn’t fit under these seats,” I said. “Get up from there!”

   Vic stepped over Francie and began to search the other seats. At the back of the car, he caught sight of her braid peeking out from under a pile of pompoms that had apparently fallen off the shelf above the seat. “Here she is,” he called. Moving the pompoms, he reached for her hand. “Come on, Peg. Time to wake up.”

   Her arms and legs began to flail wildly. “Leave me alone!”

   Vic tried again, and this time Peggy’s foot connected with his shin. “Aw, Peg!” he said reproachfully, moving out of range.

   Behind him, Tank laughed. “You’ve taken enough punishment for one day. Allow me.”

   He bent over Peggy. “Come on, sunshine,” he said, taking hold of her feet. “Settle down.” He hoisted Peggy over his shoulder like a sack of feed and carried her off the train. She pummeled his back with her small fists. “Put me down! I was dreaming nice! You put me down, you. . .you. . .you boy!”

   “With pleasure,” he said, depositing her on the seat of his truck. She glared at him. “The deuce if you can’t spit like a little kitty!” He patted her on the head.

   Francie climbed in beside her and pushed her over to make room. “It might’ve been better to lose you,” she muttered.

   Edward put me in his car and drove me home. “Did you have a good time today, sister?”

   “I owe it to you. You made them let me go.”

   “I just convinced them it was the right thing.”

   “Since when did they ever care about the right thing?”

   “Sister.”

   “I’m sorry.”

   “Next year you’ll be at Vassar and. . .”

   “I’m not going there.”

   “You’re already enrolled.”

   “Well, I’m not going.”

   “We won’t talk about it tonight.”

   He saw me to my room in the dark house. After sponging off because I didn’t feel steady enough on my feet to try the shower, I crawled into bed and dreamed I was running down a football field somewhere. My father ran after me waving a bottle of pills. In the distance, Francie screamed at me to run faster.

   We stayed in Danford for Christmas that year. I missed seeing Valerie and the Prestons, but it was nice to stay in my own room and do what I wanted to for a change. One day when Grover mentioned he was going to the laundry, I asked to go along.

   Mrs. Walinsky hugged me, and Francie pulled me to the back. “They’ve gone to San Angelo to get married,” she whispered.

   “Who?”

   “Peggy and Vic, you goose!”

   “Why would they do that now? It’s only a few months until graduation.”

   She rolled her eyes. “Coach Mack told Vic on the sly that he’d gotten the football scholarship. When everything happened with Pauline and Kip, the rules got changed so that if the boy was married, he could get married housing instead of living in the dorm.”

   “Did Peggy tell you that?”

   “She sure did. So when she said she wouldn’t be at the ranch for Christmas, I knew.”

   “You know for sure.”

   “What choice do they have?”

   “I just hope they don’t. . .well, you know a baby would mess things up for them.”

   “Maybe they won’t do. . .anything. . .you know, until later. . .” She swallowed a couple of times. “Peaches, I’m scared.”

   “Of what?”

   “I don’t know. I don’t want it to all be over.”

   “Death and taxes and graduation,” I said. “The certainties of life.”

   “Don’t talk about dying!”

   “I came close enough that summer after those damned pills.”

   Her eyes widened. “You didn’t tell me that.”

   “I didn’t tell you a lot of things, Francie. I’ve got to go. If you see Bix. . .”

   “He was by this morning and left you a note. I almost forgot.” She dug in the pocket of her apron, and I snatched the envelope out of her hand. “I’m sorry,” she said.

   I shook my head. “Thanks, Francie. I’ll try to get by again next week.”

   “I could sneak in your window.”

   “Well, I promised Edward I wouldn’t sneak around, but I didn’t promise you wouldn’t. My parents go to bed at nine.”

   “Just leave the screen unlocked.”

   Bix’s note said he’d gotten his acceptance letter from the University and qualified for a scholarship. With it and the one for being valedictorian--which he certainly would be--and a job, he could squeak by. “I won’t live in the dorm. That’s too expensive. But I can find a room somewhere. Mother said she’d send the hotplate and a coffeepot, so I won’t starve.”

   I read his note twice before tearing it up and burying it at the bottom of my wastebasket. Then I wrote back, but I didn’t tell him what I’d been thinking about--and it wasn’t Vassar.

   Peggy and Vic showed up in Danford two days after Christmas. Francie and I waited for her to tell us she was married, but she never did. I just hoped she didn’t turn up pregnant.

   When we went back to school for the final term in January, we knew it was all down hill from there. It turned out to be more down hill than we ever anticipated.

   Vic’s father died at the end of January. He’d gotten off work early one morning and gone looking for his favorite bootlegger. Unfortunately, a cattle truck found him first and knocked him forty feet off the highway. Vic didn’t show up for school that day, but he did the next. “Father Thomas is going to do something at the cemetery on Saturday,” he said.

   “What are you going to do?” I asked.

“They’ll have to hire somebody to take Pop’s place, and he’ll get the house. Mr. Riley says I can have the room behind the print shop at the newspaper. It’ll be handy to work anyway.”

   I noticed how Peggy reached for his hand and held it tightly.

   “Peg and I are going to pack up what I want to keep. Dutch said he’d store it for me at the ranch.”

   “Let me know when to bring the truck,” Tank said.

   The whole senior class plus Mr. Nunn and some of the teachers showed up at the cemetery on Saturday. Father Thomas said a few prayers. When Mr. Friedman and three others lowered the wooden box into the gaping hole, Vic shuddered, and Peggy put her arms around his waist and held on tight.

   From everything I’d heard, Vittorio Gianchinni had been an absent father--working all night, then drinking and sleeping all day. Vic had raised himself. He wouldn’t miss Vittorio, and now he had Peggy.

   Miss Grace had the six of us back to the ranch for supper. Then Tank drove us all back to town and dropped us off, except for Vic who was staying another couple of nights at the ranch. Peggy said they’d finish packing up things from the house at the plant on Sunday, and Vic would move into the room back of the newspaper building on Monday after school.

   Life settled down again--for a while anyway. The newspaper carried the obituary for Joseph Cambaugh, Sr., who owned the chemical plant. It also said his son would be taking over for him. He showed up a week later, a tall, elegant man with silver at his temples, and a long sleek Packard even newer than the one Grover drove for my father.

   My parents were out of town again, so I happened to be in the drugstore the afternoon the new plant owner stopped by for a cup of coffee. Peggy was scrubbing the grill while I quizzed her for the English lit test the next day, but she stopped to serve him. He took one look at her and almost fell off the counter stool. She didn’t seem to notice until he took a small purple velvet frame from his coat pocket. “Did you ever see her before?” he asked.

   I edged closer for a look, too. The picture of a haughty, well-dressed young woman had been taken years ago, probably before Peggy and I were born. Her unsmiling face was almost identical to Peggy’s.

   Peggy paled and shook her head. “No, sir. No, I never did.”

   He snapped the frame shut and returned it to his pocket.

   “I’ve heard everybody has a twin somewhere,” I said.

   He drained his coffee cup, tossed a nickel on the counter, and walked out.

   “What was all that about?” Mr. Bascom came out of the pharmacy and stood there frowning.

   “I don’t know, Mr. Bascom,” Peggy said in a tiny voice I hadn’t heard in a long time. Obviously the man had scared her to death.

   “He showed her a picture of someone,” I said. “It looks like Peggy, but it’s not.”

   Mr. Bascom’s frown deepened. “He’s not like the old man. On a high horse is what he is. But we have to hope he keeps the plant open.”

   Grover picked me up and took Peggy back to the boarding house. “Don’t even think about him,” I told Peggy. “I don’t know who she was, but it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

   She nodded. “I know it, but it was spooky seeing my own face looking up at me.”

   Grover stopped in front of the boarding house. “Here you are, Miss,” he said.

   “Thank you, Grover.” She hopped out. “Thanks for quizzing me, Peaches.”

   “Just remember there’s a difference between Wadsworth and Wordsworth.”

   She glared at me. “Thank you, Miss Smart Pants.”

   I laughed as Grover pulled away from the curb.

   Peggy told me the man came back the next afternoon and then a week later. “He asked all kinds of questions, like where was I born, who my father was, where was my mother.”

     “I hope you told him it was none of his business.”

   “Mr. Bascom did. He got mad and stomped out.”

   “Have you told Vic?”

   She nodded. “He didn’t like it much.”

   As she turned around, I noticed the buttons on her blouse straining a little. Flat-chested as she’d always been, I knew it could mean only one thing.

   “How are you doing these days, Peggy?” I asked.

   “What do you mean?”

   “I just mean, are you feeling all right?”

   “Why wouldn’t I be?”

   “I don’t know. Forget it.”

   She didn’t reply.

   On the first of May, when my parents went to Richmond for a wedding, I went home from school with Francie. She spread out the length of cotton batiste that Miss Grace would turn into her graduation dress. “It’s so fine it almost feels like silk,” she said, smoothing it proudly. “Peggy got the same thing, and Matka gave us each some of this for the trim.” She unfolded some blue paper and took out a long roll of delicate cotton lace. “It’s from Poland,” she said. “Matka’s grandmother made it.

   I recognized quality when I saw it. “It’s gorgeous, Francie,” I said, fingering it carefully. “It really is lovely. You and Peggy are lucky.”

   Francie tossed her head. “It’s not like you won’t have a new dress, too. Real silk, probably.”

   I glared at her. “I don’t know if you deliberately misunderstand me, or if you’re just plain stupid!” Her eyes flashed dangerously, but just then Mrs. Walinsky came in. I smiled politely, hoping she wouldn’t remind me I wasn’t supposed to be there. “Francie and Peggy will have the prettiest dresses in the class with this lace.” I rolled it up in the blue paper and handed it back to Francie.

   Francie started to translate, but her mother waved her hand. “You have dress, too?” she asked in halting English.

   “Not yet.”She went into her room and came back with another package of blue paper. “For your dress,” she said, putting it in my hands.

   “Oh, no, Mrs. Walinsky, I can’t. . .” Tears stung my eyes.

   She put her hands on my shoulders and smiled. “You my Francziska’s friend,” she said. “I want to give you. Good girl.” I bit my lip until it hurt. “Thank you, Mrs. Walinsky. It’s the most beautiful gift anyone’s ever given me. I’ll treasure it.”

   She patted me. “Good girl,” she said again.

   “You’ll have to put it on your slip,” Francie said as soon as her mother had gone downstairs again.

   “You don’t like me very much, do you, Francie?”

   “What do you mean? Of course, I like you! You’re my best friend. . .you and Peggy.”

   I shook my head. “You resent me. You can’t stand the fact that my family has money and yours doesn’t.”

   “That’s the silliest thing I ever heard!”

   I felt suddenly tired. “Oh, Francie, you don’t know me at all, even after all this time. If you did, you’d know that I’m just as capable as you are of appreciating something like this. It’s not just the lace, Francie, although it really is exquisite. It’s the fact that your mother gave it to me, the rich girl, out of her own poverty.” I held up my hand to silence her as she bridled at the word. “Think about it, Francie. Think about who’s really rich and who’s poor.”

   I left her sitting there with her mouth open and went downstairs to the laundry. Mrs. Walinsky looked up from the tablecloth she was pressing. There were beads of sweat on her forehead, and wisps of fine thick hair had come loose from her braid and clung wetly to her neck. I went behind the counter and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Mrs. Walinsky,” I said. “I wish you were my Matka, too.”

   The next afternoon I asked Grover to stop at the dry goods store where I bought material identical to Francie’s and Peggy’s. When we got home, he brought up the sewing machine without my asking. Though I’d bought the simplest pattern I could find, the lace down the front and around the sleeves made the dress elegant. When it was finished, I hung it inside my winter coat at the back of the closet. How I’d get out of the house with it, I didn’t know, but I’d find a way. 

Chapter 8

    Though the year got off to a good start, I began to feel as if disaster lurked just around the corner. First Peggy started showing up with bruises she tried to explain away by saying she was just clumsy in the kitchen. I didn’t believe her, and Vic sure didn’t. “If Min Bailey’s not careful,” I told Francie, “Vic’s going to beat hell out of her--if he doesn’t kill her first.”

    Francie didn’t even comment on my language. “I know it. Tank says he’s always got an eye on Vic these days. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do next.”

    Then Peggy let it slip that one of the new boarders was bothering her. Most of the men who lived at Min Bailey’s worked at the chemical plant and went home on weekends if they could. Some were married and had children but couldn’t afford to move their families to Danford. But one or two others were single, stayed in town, and--so I overheard my father say--were troublemakers when they had too much to drink.

    So when Peggy said something about a man named Thad Johnson, I asked her straight out how he was bothering her. At first she wouldn’t tell me, but finally she admitted he’d put his hand up her dress when she served breakfast and dinner at night, and once or twice he’d come up to her room on the third floor and asked her to come out and talk to him.

    “I guess you lock the door.”

    She shook her head. “I asked Aunt Min for the key, but she said she doesn’t know where it is. But I shove the bureau across the door at night before I go to bed.”

    “If you’re really afraid of him, you should tell someone.”

    Her little face paled. “You mustn’t tell, Peaches! If Vic finds out, he’ll do something awful.”

    “Let me write to Edward. He’ll know what to do. Or tell Mr. Tankersley. He’s got a lot of influence in town.”

    “I can’t tell Tank’s daddy. This summer he and Miss Grace tried to get Aunt Min to let me come live at the ranch, and she wouldn’t do it. She was real mean to me for a while after that.”

    “She’s knocking you around, isn’t she?”

    Peggy ducked her head. “I don’t want to talk about it any more. And don’t write to your brother either.”

    So I kept my mouth shut, but the late October day she came to school in eighty-degree weather wearing a wool sweater buttoned to her chin, I had an idea why. She came late that day. The second bell had already rung, and she slid into her seat in homeroom like it hurt her to sit down. She wouldn’t talk to me when the bell rang for first period, and about half-way through the class, she asked to be excused. When she didn’t come back, Miss Lovett sent Francie to look for her.

    When Francie didn’t come back either, the teacher sent me to retrieve them both. Peggy huddled on the floor of one of the stalls, her head down against the toilet seat. On her knees beside her, Francie hurled questions which received no answers.

    “Shut up, Francie,” I said. “Move over.”I leaned over Peggy.“Did your aunt do this?”She shook her head.“She did, too. I know she did, and this time I’m going to tell.”

    Tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes. “Please, Peaches, she didn’t.”Balancing myself carefully, I unbuttoned her sweater and retched at what I saw. Clearly someone had tried to strangle her. And then I knew.“Tell me, or I’m going after someone who’ll make you tell. I’ll get Mr. Nunn and let him look at you.”

    Her eyes flew open. “Please, Peaches. . .” She leaned over the seat and tried to throw up.

    Francie brought me a wet paper towel to wash her face. “Unbutton the rest of her sweater,” I said to Francie and leaned back against the stall to catch my breath.

    Peggy’s arms were almost black. Francie burst into tears. “That won’t help,” I said. “Go get Mr. Nunn.” As Francie started to her feet, I heard Pegy whisper, “A man.”

    “One of your aunt’s boarders? The one you told me about?” She nodded. “He’s been trying to. . .last night he. . .”

    My stomach heaved. “Peggy, did he. . .did he. . .get inside you?”

    “I tried to make him stop! He was so big. . .so big. . .” Her voice trailed off weakly.

    “Where do you hurt most?”

    “My stomach and. . .down there.” Francie raised her dress and pulled down her underwear. Her stomach was bruised and swollen like a balloon, and there was blood on her pants.

    “Dammit!” I screeched. “You’re hurt bad,” I said. “You’re hurt inside, I think. She needs a doctor, Francie.”

    “No!” Peggy pulled away, her eyes wide with terror. “No! He’ll say. . .he’ll think it was. . .that I let him. . .” She started to cry. “I just want to die! Oh, Peaches, I just want to die right this minute!”

    “Hush up!” Francie said, crying harder. “You just hush up that kind of talk!” She looked up at me. “I’m going to take her home. Matka will know what to do.”

    “She needs a doctor, Francie. She’s been raped.” Though I knew what it was, I’d never said the word, and nausea rose in my throat at the sound.

    Francie cringed. “Just. . .just go tell Miss Lovett that Peggy’s sick, and I’m taking her home.”

    Between the two of us, we hauled Peggy to her feet. When they’d gone, I beat the door of the stall until my fists ached. Then I limped back to class and delivered the message, hoping Miss Lovett would question me further. She didn’t.

    Francie got back to school just after the end of lunch bell. I wasn’t the only one waiting for her.

          “Miss Lovett tells me that Peggy Bailey’s ill,” Mr. Nunn said, blocking her path.

        “Yes, sir.”

        “Miss Walinsky, is there anything you need to tell me?”

        “No, sir.” She didn’t meet his eyes.

        “Is she ill. . .or is she hurt?”

        “She’s. . she’s been sort of getting sick for awhile, and she felt real bad this morning, but she came to school anyway because. . .well, you know, she doesn’t like to stay around the boarding house and. . .well, I took her to my place. Matka’s looking after her.” Francie tried to step around him, but he stepped first.

        “If Peggy has a problem. . .things happen, Miss Walinsky.”

        “No, sir!” Her voice shook.

        “What happened to Pauline last year isn’t any secret.”

        “You don’t think that. . .”

        “It crossed my mind,” he said quietly.

        “No, sir! Peggy and Vic don’t. . .”

        “You’re sure about that.”

        “Peggy’s not like her aunt!”

        “I didn’t imply that.”

        Seeing Francie’s desperation hurt me, but there was nothing I could do.

        “And there’s nothing you want to tell me? You’re quite sure?”

        “No, sir.”

        He sighed and stepped aside. “All right, Miss Walinsky. The bell rang for fourth hour a few minutes ago.” He saw me then. “Why aren’t you in class, Miss Kroll”

        “I was waiting for Francie. I wanted to ask how Peggy is.

        “Both of you best go to class,” he said before he walked back toward his office. Francie grabbed my arm, and we started for class in silence.

        At the of class, Vic cornered both of us. “Where’s Peg?”

        “She got sick,” Francie said smoothly. “I took her home where Matka can take care of her today.”

        I could tell before she finished speaking that Vic wasn’t buying a word of it. “Min’s been using her for a punching bag again,” he said in a voice that dripped ice and worse.

        “No,” I said, “that’s not it. She has the flu, I think.”

        “She’s at your place?”

        Francie nodded, and Vic started off just as Tank came around the corner. “Where you headed?”

        “To see about Peg. She’s at Francie’s. Francie says she’s sick.”

        “Better go after school,” Tank said. “After football practice. Mrs. Walinsky will take care of her until then, and I’ll help you in the kitchen at the boarding house tonight.” He looked past Vic at Francie and me and raised his eyebrows.

        “Don’t let him go,” I mouthed silently.

        “Coach Mack’ll have you running laps until you’re ninety-two if you miss practice,” Tank said.

        “Coach can go to hell,” Vic muttered and tried to get around Tank but couldn’t.

        For a second I thought Vic was going to throw a punch at Tank, but Mr. Nunn walked up just then. “Don’t you four have somewhere to be?” He stood there with his arms crossed until we headed for fifth hour.

        Francie and I skipped pep squad practice. She literally ran home to check on Peggy while I hid out in the girls’ bathroom. She came back half an hour later, out of breath and in tears.

        Matka says Peggy’s got to have a doctor, but Peggy says she’ll go back to the boarding house and jump out of her window. She’ll do it, too. She’d rather die than have Vic find out.”

        “He’s going to find out, Francie.”

        “I’ve never seen Vic get mad, much less hurt anyone, but he’ll kill that man for sure.”

        “And if Peggy dies up over the laundry, everybody’s going to know it wasn’t the flu.”

        She leaned over the sink. “Matka says if she isn’t bleeding tomorrow, she’ll won’t call Doc. But look, Peaches, you know Doc. He’ll think Vic did it and call Sheriff Hatcher. You heard Mr. Nunn. He thinks. . .”

        “The man raped her, Francie!”

        “Don’t say that word!”

        “Oh, crap, Francie, grow up! What is it Tank’s always saying? Life isn’t all Friday night football and pom-poms?”

        She squared her shoulders. “Think about this, Peaches--if the law gets involved, you think Peggy’ll last in Danford? The sheriff’ll call welfare, and she’ll be carted off somewhere. Vic’ll kill the man who did it, and then he’ll go to jail for the rest of his life.”

        “I’m not saying. . .”

        “We’ve got to keep things quiet. I mean, unless she gets really bad, we’re going to have to just hope nobody finds out.”

        “What about Vic?”

        “Well, we’re going to have to tell him before he comes to the laundry tonight--and he will.”

        I shook my head. “Francie, this is crazy.”

        “I know it. I know it. Now let’s get out to the stadium and catch the boys when practice is over. Tank’ll have to knock Vic down and sit on him, but it’s got to be done.”

        Francie’s prediction came close. We snuck into the gym where Francie spilled her guts. Vic roared like a wounded bull and charged toward the door. Tank knocked him down and put a boot on his chest just enough where Vic knew he was pinned. Then I saw something I’d never seen before in my life. Vic cried. The sounds he made sent shivers through me. Francie put her hands over her ears, but the way her face twisted I could tell it didn’t help.

        Finally, when Vic just lay there heaving, Tank gave him a hand up and said, “Now we’ll talk about what we do.”

        I didn’t think Francie was going to convince Tank to keep quiet, but between the two of us, we did. “I won’t lie to my Daddy,” Tank said. “I never have, and I don’t intend to start now.”

   "    "Just keep quiet for a while,” I said. I turned to Vic. “And don’t go do something stupid. You won’t be any good to Peggy if you’re locked up.”

        He gave me a look of pure hatred, but I knew he didn’t mean it.

        Before we left the gym, we’d concocted the story we were going to stick with at school. Francie would go to the boarding house every morning and help serve breakfast. Vic and Tank would clean up at night. And Peggy would stay where she was until she’d recovered from the flu.

        Francie told me later that Vic had cried again when he saw Peggy, and she’d cried with him. She said her mother had talked to Vic like one man to another, and she’d been mortified to translate, but she’d had no choice. “I saw a whole new side of Matka last night. She’s always been so quiet, but last night. . .well, there she was, a third Vic’s size, and he was sitting there like he was scared to death of her.”

        I’d been elected to tell Bix and ask if he’d help Vic at the boarding house at night since Tank couldn’t come in without raising Dutch’s suspicions. He’d looked sick when I finished. “How could she let. . .”

        “Dammit, Bix, were you listening to me? She didn’t let anything That worthless piece of crap raped her.”

        I felt him physically shudder from head to toe.

        “Have you looked at her? She’s so little, a breeze could blow her down the road.”

        “I didn’t mean. . .sure, I’ll help Vic.”

        “And you can’t tell anybody.”

        “Sheriff Hatcher should arrest that man.”

=       "Arrest him, throw him in jail, call welfare to pick up Peggy, and then tell the whole town why. She’s got enough to deal with, Bix.”

         “I guess.”

        “All right, so now you know.”

        “Why didn’t Tank or Vic tell me? Why did it have to be you?”

        “Because we’re two of a kind. Because no one else wanted to hear what you had to say.”

        “I’ve known them a lot longer than I’ve known you.”

        I laughed as I struggled off the park bench. “You don’t know me, Bix. You never did, and you never will. Just be at the boarding house at seven-thirty every night until somebody tells you differently.”

        For two weeks, we’d kept our stories straight. If Mr. Nunn didn’t believe us, he didn’t say so. Finally Peggy came back to school looking smaller and more frail than she’d ever done. She put on her pep leader uniform for the few games left in the season, but she didn’t jump around with Francie and the others. Mostly she just sat on the wheel of my bell cart and looked sad.

          Then two weeks after that, the paper carried a small story on the back page about how the body of one Thad Johnson, a former employee of Cambaugh Chemicals, had been found dead near the railroad tracks in San Angelo. My first thought was, Vic had finally exacted justice. Or maybe revenge. Or maybe both.

        Peggy said Sheriff Hatcher had been to the boarding house to talk to Min Bailey. On his way out, he’d asked her if Min was abusing her. She’d told him no. “He might’ve asked more questions,” she explained. “Vic’s in enough trouble.”

        But then one night after the last football game, which Danford won, Tank said we all needed to talk. All of us including Bix. We piled into his truck and drove to where the river left the park and flowed out of town. It was chilly, and Vic kept re-tying Peggy’s scarf and making sure she had on the gloves he’d bought her. Then he made her Peggy stay in the truck while he told us what he’d done to Thad Johnson.

        “I took him down to that empty lot behind the depot and beat hell out of him and tossed him on the eight-oh-nine to Angelo. Whoever stuck that knife up under his ribs did it there. I didn’t kill him. I figured you all thought I did, so I’m setting the record straight.”

        “Nobody thought that,” I said.

        “Sure you did,” he said, “and I guess I can’t blame you. I wanted to kill him all right. He deserved what he got. But he didn’t get it from me.”

        Bix’s words from out of the silent darkness startled me. “He needed killing,” he said bitterly. “No man could let that happen to anybody he cares for and not do something about it. But if you say you didn’t do it, I’ll take your word for it, and that’s the end of it, at least as far as I’m concerned.”

        Something akin to admiration stirred in me. Maybe Bix could feel something for someone besides himself after all. At least he recognized justice when he saw it.

        After that night, we never talked about it again. Once Peggy was back at the boarding house, Vic continued to help her in the kitchen at night. He put two padlocks on her door and told her to wear the keys around her neck at night in case of fire. Later he talked the local fire department out of a rope ladder which he attached under her window. He said if Min saw it and said anything about it, he’d wrap it around her scrawny neck. I didn’t doubt he was telling the truth.

Chapter 7

     At least Peggy seemed happier. She said her mother had found a place for her to stay during the summer. “I’ll help take care of one of the nurse’s children. And I’ll get to see Mamma every day. Maybe we’ll be able to go back home to Lubbock before school starts.”

Vic acted like he was happy for her, but it was like he’d found a new purpose in life since she came. It couldn’t have been easy being the son of the town drunk, which everyone knew Vittorio Gianchinni was. He didn’t drink on the job--being the night watchman for Cambaugh Chemicals, the company keeping Danford afloat in these hard times--but as soon as he got off, he found his local bootlegger and tied one on.

     Francie said Vic’s mother had died when he was four, and then his older sister Maria died four years after that. The Tankersleys had practically raised Vic after that, which explained why he and Tank were close as brothers, but Vittorio had refused to let them adopt his only son. So Vic kept living in the house by the plant and doing odd jobs around town to make a nickel. Miss Grace kept him in clothes and as many meals as possible. “All Vic wants to do is get the football scholarship when he graduates and get out of Danford,” Francie confided once when Peggy wasn’t around. But now it looked like Peggy was getting out first, and he wasn’t happy.

     Miss Grace invited the whole freshman class, all nineteen of us, to the ranch for a picnic supper on the last Friday night before school      was out. My parents were out of town again, so I told Mrs. Flowers I was going. She didn’t argue with me.

The kitchen at the boarding house still had to be cleaned up, so I fudged the time and went to help. We--all of us except Bix who hadn’t been around much lately-- waited out back for Peggy to wave the cup towel signaling Min had gone upstairs. “Dad put two goats and half a beef on the pit barbeque,” Tank said. “And I took Mrs. Walinski out to the ranch as soon as she got off work, and she and Mom were tearing up when kitchen when I let to come back in.”

     “So much for Shabbas,” Francie said with a shrug.

     “God won’t send the plagues of Egypt on you,” I said. “At least, I don’t think He will.”

     She frowned. “Probably not, but it’s not a good idea to joke about it.”

     I put up my hands. “Fine. Okay.”

     I saw a flash of white from the porch. “There’s the all clear,” Vic said. “Let’s go.”

     An hour later, Francie finally put the last plate away and started to climb down from the cabinet. “Hey, Peggy,” she said, picking up an envelope propped against the coffee mill, “here’s a letter for you.”

     Peg shoved the silverware drawer shut and took the envelope. “It’s from Mamma,” she said happily. “I’ll bet it’s my train ticket. The office addressed it. See, it says ‘M. Bailey’. That’s how they do it there.” She opened it and took out the single sheet of paper inside, then shook the envelope for the ticket, but there wasn’t one after all.

     Vic had started out back to burn the trash in the barrel at the back of the lot, and Tank was drying the last skillet. All of a sudden, I heard a moan like an animal in pain. It made the hair on my arms stand up. I turned around and saw Peggy standing there in the middle of the floor. Her face was white as the cup towel I’d laid out the silver on, and then her knees buckled. She sank to the floor clutching the paper to her flat chest. “Oh, Mamma, Mamma,” she moaned again.

     Francie got to her before Vic and pried the letter out of her fingers. Peggy fell over further, her head on her knees, and began to sob. Vic snatched the letter, read it, and tossed it on the table before getting down on the floor with Peggy. The words I read chilled me like a   block of ice.

     “Dear Mrs. Bailey,

     We regret to inform you that Irene Bailey died at 5:32 on the morning of May 25, 1933. She was buried in the hospital cemetery, Block 5, Lot 14, Site 2. There is no money owing on her account, and her personal effects have been packed for shipping. Please let me know if I can be of further assistance.”

     It was signed by the hospital superintendent and had been meant for Min, not Margaret, Bailey. I sucked in my breath as I finished reading it. Francie got down on the floor, too. “Oh, krolik, she said softly, “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, little krolik!”

     Peggy’s little body shook violently, and the choking noises she was making scared me. Vic picked her up and carried her over to the    rocking chair in the corner and sat down. “I’ve got you, Peg,” he said, beginning to rock her. “I’ve got you.”

     Tank and Francie and I went outside and left them alone. “I’ll go on out to the ranch and tell everyone what happened,” Tank said.

     “Take Peggy and me to the laundry first,” Francie said. “She stays weekends with Mamma and me anyway.”

     “Better let Vic stay with her there, and you come out to the ranch,” Tank said.

     Francie started to argue with him but nodded. “Okay. I’ll go upstairs and get her bag. She packs it on Friday mornings before school.”

     “Just drop me off at home,” I said. “I feel sick.”

     “Are you sure?” Tank asked.

     “Tell your mother I’m sorry.”

     He slipped his arm around my shoulders. “I’ll bring you and Francie and Peggy out on Sunday to have left-overs,” he said.

     “Fine, I don’t care.” I knew if I didn’t sit down soon, I was going to fall down. Francie went in the house again, and Tank put me in the truck. At first I thought I might cry, but all I felt was anger. It wasn’t fair. Peggy never hurt anybody in her life, and now she’d lost everything. She’d rot at the boarding house just like I’d rot in that house with my parents.

     Mrs. Flowers heard me come in, and I told her what happened. “Why couldn’t it have been my mother?” I said. “Peggy’s mother loved her.”

     Mrs. Flowers shook her head. “I’m so sorry for her. Do you need some help tonight?”

     I shook my head. “No, I’ll live.”

     But when I got to my room, I picked up the new bottle of pills my father had brought before he left and thought again about swallowing all of them.

     My parents came home on Saturday, so I couldn’t go out to the ranch on Sunday. I didn’t even care. It was harder and harder to care about anything these days.

     Vic didn’t go either. Francie said he’d spent all of Saturday and Sunday with Peggy. “They just sat out on the steps together.”

     “Orphans of the storm,” I said.

     “What?

     “I mean they don’t have anybody but each other now.”

     Francie looked at me like she didn’t know what I was talking about.

     Peggy showed up at school on Monday, and Vic hovered over her like an old hen. At noon while we were eating lunch under the tree which seemed to be our private preserve, Anna Lee came over and cupped Peggy’s chin in her hand. “I’m really sorry, Peggy,” she said in the kindest voice I’d ever heard her use. “But it’ll get better, I promise. You’ll get tougher.” She leaned down and kissed the top of Peggy’s head and walked off.

     “What did she mean by that?” I asked.

     “Well, Anna Lee’s mother didn’t die--she just up and left her. They were living some place away from here, and she was on her fourth or fifth husband or boyfriend. Then one day she just showed up with Anna Lee and left her here with her grandmother. Anna Lee was always in trouble at school back then. Remember I told you about Milt pulling her off Harry one day? I don’t know what he said to her, but it worked, and now they’re real good friends. She can still make you mad with some of the things she says, but she’s a good person. And yeah, I guess she knows what she’s talking about.” She patted Peggy who’d started to cry again. “It’ll be okay, krolik. Not anytime soon, but someday you’ll be okay.”

     Peggy jumped up and ran off then, and I saw Vic come out of nowhere. He’d been watching her like he’d done all day. I thought about Pauline and hoped Vic had better sense than Kip.

     At breakfast on the day before school was out, my parents told me we’d be leaving for Richmond on Saturday. “I’ll be so glad to see Edward,” I told Peggy and Francie at noon.

     “Tell him how you’ve been feeling,” Francie said. “He’ll know what to do.”

     “How am I feeling?” I bristled.

      “Well, you know.” She didn’t look at me. “I didn’t mean to make you mad, but I’ve been worried about you. And I’ll miss you this summer. We all will.”

     “No, you won’t, but thanks anyway.”

     “No, I mean it.”

     I swallowed my last cracker and looked at Peggy. I doubted she’d passed any of her exams, but she said she didn’t want Vic asking Mr. Nunn for an exemption. “I’ve been so mean to you, krolik. I don’t know why. You didn’t deserve it.”

     She cut her eyes over at me. “It’s okay.”

     “How about me?” Francie demanded.

     “You’re different,” Peaches said. “Between the two of us, I got into one hell of a mess!”

     Francie’s face turned red. “I know,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

     “It’s not all your fault. And if was fun while it lasted.”

     “Will you write to us?” she asked.

     “If I can. Maybe Edward can figure out a way for you all to write to me, too.”

     “We will,” Francie said. “Danford’s not very exciting, but I guess we can make something up!”

     I laughed. “Create a few scandals, huh?”

     The three of us hugged and cried when Grover came to pick me up. As he drove away, I leaned out the window and waved one more time. Francie and Peggy stood on the sidewalk with their arms around each other. I wondered if I’d ever see them again.

     When Edward joined us in Richmond a week after we arrived, I told him everything. He was sympathetic, as I’d known he would be. “I’ll get you a post office box and pay the gardener’s boy a little extra to bring your mail. It’s not the strictly honest thing to do, but you deserve some contact with your friends.”

     “Father stealing my mail wouldn’t be honest either,” I said. “and do you think you might convince him that I can’t sit at home all the     time just because no one in my class is on the social register?”

     He sighed. “Sister, I’m glad you’ve made some friends at school, and I agree with you there’s nothing wrong with being poor, especially these days. But your friends already have three strikes against them. Francie Walinsky is Jewish, and Peggy’s aunt is less than, shall we say, respectable.”

     “Peggy’s sweet!” I protested. “and what’s wrong with being Jewish?”

     “To tell you the truth, honey, I don’t know. It’s just one of those things. They’re different, that’s all. And as for Bix Matthews, Sister, you know why you can’t go around with him.”

     “Oh, well, he hardly speaks to me anymore anyway.”

     “That’s for the best. Besides, times are going to get better, and you may find yourself back at Hockaday.”

     I tossed my head, but I couldn’t quite do it like Anna Lee or Francie. “I’ll never go back there!”

     “Don’t be too sure,” he said. “I’d much rather be at the University than at Harvard.”

     “Why are they like that? Why do they think they’re so much better than everyone else?”

     “That’s just the way they were brought up.”

     “Well, so were we, but we don’t act that way.”

     Edward smiled. “I think we have our snobbish side, You’ve said some things that let me know you understand you’re better than your friends.”

     “I have not!” I felt my face grow hot.

     He patted my hands. “You’ve talked about Mrs. Walinsky not speaking English even though she’s been in this country for years, and how Peggy’s mother worked in a five-and-dime.”

     “But I didn’t mean there was anything wrong with them!”

     “I know you didn’t, but it’s true. You are better in the sense you’ve had more advantages.”

     “Mrs. Walinsky treats me better than my own mother.”

     “I won’t argue that with you, Marian,” he said. When he used my name, I knew he was serious. “I’ll talk to Father, but you’re going to have to decide what you can live without.”

     “I told you Bix and I don’t go around together anymore.”

     “Yes, well, I want you to promise me you won’t go sneaking around anymore.”

     “Oh, all right,” I said grudgingly. “But I was getting pretty good at crawling out my window without getting hung up on anything.”

     “And don’t lie to Mother and Father.”

     “Do I have to tell them I have an hour for lunch?”

     “I suppose not.”

     “I don’t want that much, Edward. Just to have some friends and be like the other girls.”

     He slipped his arm around my shoulders. “I know, honey. I’ll do my best.”

     Before Edward went to a house party in Atlanta, he arranged for me to send and receive mail. I wrote a single letter to Francie and Peggy to let them know the post office box number.

     Peggy’s letter came first. Mr. Bascom at the drugstore had hired her to work at the soda fountain five days a week and half a day on Saturday. “Now I’ll have my own money. Vic says it’s the best feeling in the world.”

     Francie wrote she was babysitting Mr. Nunn’s children and also Laura Matthews. Tank stayed busy at the ranch but came to town for the mail and always stopped by to say hello.

     My parents decided to go on to Maine early and left me with Aunt Fiona and Uncle Geoff. Two days after they left, I ran out of my pills. Aunt Fiona took the bottle to the pharmacy, but the druggist told her he couldn’t refill the prescription without permission from the doctor. “He said the prescription didn’t have any refills anyway,” she said, handing me the empty bottle.

     “Father always gets more from Bascom’s,” I said. “But never mind.” I’d been thinking about what Francie said, about how the pills weren’t doing me more harm than good, so maybe this was the time to quit taking them.

     Twenty-four hours later, though, I was sicker than I’d ever been since I had polio. One minute I was hot, and the next I was cold. Every inch of my skin itched, and I clawed myself until I bled. I couldn’t be still in bed, but when I’d try to walk around, I’d throw up. The doctor came out and said I had summer flu, and it just had to run its course.

     But it didn’t. By the next day I was too weak to get out of bed to the bathroom. I soiled the bed twice and retched until blood came up. The doctor came back and gave me something to make me sleep for awhile. When I woke up, my mother’s old nurse, who still lived on the place, was sitting beside me. “I’m going to die,” I whispered. “I’m going to die and go to hell.”

     “No’m, you’re not,” she said, washing my face with a cool cloth. “Janey’s not gonna let no devil have this sweet child.”

She stayed with me, sponging me, changing my gown and the sheets, and rocking me in her big soft, arms as I cried miserably. When Edward came that night, I heard her say, “Mister Edward, this child’s bad sick, and she needs more’n Miss Fiona’s fancy doctor.”

     “Thank you for caring for her, Janey,” I heard him say. Then his face was just above mine. “Sister. Sister, it’s Edward.”

     “I’m dying,” I moaned. “I’m so scared! Help me, Edward!”

     He left, and I heard voices raised in the hall outside my door. Suddenly he was back. “Janey, if you’ll help me wrap her up, please, and would you ride to the hospital with us?”

     Janey held me in the back seat of Edward’s car as he drove away from the house. I drifted in and out of consciousness, but I was aware of a great many people around me and heard someone say, “She’s almost totally dehydrated,” and someone else said, “Those sores on her  arms look septic.”

     When I woke up, Edward sat by my bed, his gentle face unshaven and drawn. “Welcome back to the world, little sister,” he said gently, kissing my forehead. “Another few hours, the doctor said, and I’d have lost you.” His voice broke.

     “What happened?.”

     “You’re going to be all right,” he said. He put a straw between my lips. “You need to drink all you can.” I drew on the straw obediently.      “That’s good. That’s very good, Sister.”

     The next day, when I had my wits about me again, Edward began to question me about everything I’d done in the last few weeks, where I’d been and what I’d eaten, and that’s when I thought about the pills. “I don’t know what they were,” I said. “But they made me stop hurting.”

     Something in his expression made me feel unsettled. “I think I’ll telephone Dr. Barnes,” he said almost too casually. “And you’d been taking them since spring?”

     “Early April, but I ran out a few days after I got to Richmond.” He leaned over and kissed me and left the room.

     When he came back, he looked angry, and I’d never seen him angry before. “I spoke with Dr. Barnes,” he said, sitting down slowly and folding his hands. “He was quite concerned about you. The medicine was only temporary, a ten-day supply. He had no idea Mr. Bascom had been refilling the prescription and doesn’t understand why.”

     “I can guess,” I said. “The bank holds a mortgage on half the town.”

     Edward frowned. “You were addicted, Marian. Do you understand what that means?”

      I shook my head. “Not really.”

     “Your body depended on the medicine, and when you didn’t have it anymore, you went through withdrawal.”

     “But Doc prescribed it for me.”

     “Prescription drugs are often as strong as the illegal ones people buy on the streets,” he said.

     My mouth went dry. “Will Mr. Bascom get into trouble?”

     “I think Dr. Barnes will speak to him about it.”

     “I’ll never take another pill as long as I live,” I said. “Not if that’s what they do to me. But please, Edward, call Doc back and make him promise not to get Mr. Bascom in trouble. He’s a nice man, and he wouldn’t have done anything to hurt me.”

     “I’ll speak with him again, if it will make you feel better,” he promised.

     The hospital kept me for three weeks. When the doctor said I would be discharged the next day, Edward finally admitted that Uncle Geoff was angry he’d defied him and taken me to the hospital. “So I think we won’t be going back there,” he said.

     “What did he want me to do? Die in his upstairs bedroom?”

     Edward patted my hand. “I took a room at the hotel down the street, but you can’t go there.”

     “Mother and Father are expecting us in Maine,” I reminded him.

     “I telephoned them you were ill. I’m sure Uncle Geoff has spoken with them, too.”

     “Did they care?” I asked bitterly.

     “Don’t, Sister.”

     “I didn’t think so.”

     He chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. “I spoke with Dr. Barnes again and told him you were much better.”

     “Did you tell him not to be angry with Mr. Bascom?”

     “Mr. Bascom didn’t fill the prescription except the one time.”

     “But I always gave Father the bottle when it was empty, and he came home with more.”

     “He didn’t get them from Mr. Bascom,” Edward repeated.

     “Then where did he get them?”

     “The drugs are available, if not legally then otherwise.”

     “Father got them illegally?”

     “I don’t know.” He rose abruptly and walked to the window. “I don’t want to know.”

     The silence in the room frightened me, and I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “Well,” I said slowly, “the pills kept me quiet and out of sight anyway, and that’s what he wanted. Why do they hate me, Edward? Being crippled isn’t a sin, and it’s not my fault I had polio.”

     “We won’t speak of this again,” he said. “I told Mother and Father the doctor has recommended a warm climate for you, so we’re going to Atlanta when the doctor releases you. Harvey Preston, a classmate of mine, lives there, and it was his sister Valerie who gave the house party. Their parents are in Europe, but there’s a full staff at the house, and Valerie said she’d love to meet you.”

     “Is she someone important to you?”

     He smiled gently. “Yes, she is, Sister, and you’ll love her as I do. And she’ll love you.”

Dear Francie and Peggy,

I’ve been sick, and the doctor said I needed some place warmer than Maine, so Edward brought me to Atlanta to visit a classmate’s family. Actually, Edward brought me to meet the sister, a beautiful person named Valerie. He’s in love with her, of course, and I think she loves him, too. I hope she does anyway. She’s spoiling me completely. I have a maid all to myself who does everything for me. Actually, I need her because I was pretty sick and don’t have all my strength back yet. I have the room next to Valerie’s, and she leaves the door open between us so we can talk at night.

Edward had his twenty-first birthday yesterday. He didn’t want a big celebration, so we just had a picnic down by the river that runs through their land. (This is a bigger place than Holly Hill, and the Prestons aren’t just pretending to be rich!)

Anyway, Edward told me later that his trust from Grandmother Fancher will be released to him now, and he wants me to think about staying here for school, and he’ll pay for it. I could board at the school, and Valerie would check on me, though she says she’d rather I’d continue to live with her parents and her.

I don’t know how Edward thinks he’s going to get Father to agree to it—although I think he’d be glad to be rid of me!—but I really want to come back and finish high school with all of you. We’re still talking.

You can write to me here for the rest of the summer. I miss both of you—don’t ask me why when I’m living in the lap of luxury. Edward’s calling me—we’re all going to town to the theater tonight. I haven’t been out at all, so I’m excited about it.

Much love,

Peaches

P.S. I’m not taking those pills anymore and won’t take them again, so there!

P.S. P.S. The theater was wonderful, but I was really tired and slept late this morning. Edward was just in here, and I told him I really wanted to come back to Danford and graduate. He said he understood. So, I’ll see you two in about a month! Write to me!

     In July Francie enclosed a letter from Pauline. I didn’t know where to send it, she wrote, but I wanted you to know about Elizabeth Marian,my beautiful little girl. She’s named for you, of course, and for my grandmother who got the principal here to let me finish high school and made me clothes to (sort of) hide the fact I was expecting. Now Gran is going to keep her while I go to beauty school during the week. It will be a good living for us when I have my license.

Marian, you saved my life and my baby’s life, and I’ll be grateful to you forever. As soon as I’m working, I’m going to start paying back the money. I know you said I didn’t have to, but Gran says it’s the right thing to do.

I know things aren’t easy for you, but there’s always something good. For me it was Amie (which is what I’m calling her) and the chance to start over. I made a big mistake with Kip, but I won’t make the same one again.

Write to me sometime.

Love,

Pauline

     When I confided the story to Valerie, she took me to town and helped me pick out some soft yellow yarn to make a cap and sweater for the baby. While I crocheted, I thought of how someday I might have my own baby girl to love the way my parents never loved me.

     Edward and I took the train from Atlanta to Danford a week before school started. “You’re sure this is what you want, Sister?” he asked before we left.

     “I’m not sure at all,” I said. “I love Valerie and her parents, and I’m sure the school is a good one, but I’m not sure I can go back to that    side.”

     “Which side is that?”

     “Privilege. What you reminded me I’ve always had. I’ve seen how other people live now. Francie, Peggy, Vic, even Bix Matthews. I acted like a total snob when I started school in Danford, but the girls understood and forgave me. They’re real people, like I don’t see in the world I came from. Oh, I’m not talking about Valerie, but she and her parents are exceptions. I just don’t want to live in that world any longer.”

     “You’ll be back in it at Vassar,” he reminded me.

      “That’s two years away.”

     “You can always change your mind if things don’t work out.”

     “It helps to know I have an alternative. But I’ve changed, Edward, and I like myself better now.”

     He stayed three days before he had to go back to school himself. With our parents still in Maine, the house seemed more like a home. Mrs. Flowers cooked all our favorites, and Edward spent a lot of time with Grover talking about cars because he planned to buy one as soon as he graduated in the spring.

     Miss Grace and Dutch threw a big barbecue to welcome me home, so Edward got to meet everyone except for Bix. Francie said he’d worked two jobs all summer and hadn’t had two words to say to anyone. But Peggy chattered like a magpie these days, and whenever Vic looked at her, he beamed.

     “I do like your friends,” Edward said later. “You’re right about them being good people.”

     “I knew you’d see it.”

     “But your promise to me still holds.”

     “I won’t sneak around this year.”

     “Sometimes you just have to learn to be happy with what you have--like your friends do.”

     “I hadn’t thought of that.”

     “Maybe that’s the last step you need to take to be what you call real people.” He smiled that gentle smile which always made me feel  loved.

     “You’re right, of course, and I promise I’ll try.”

     “And you’ll succeed. I’m very proud of you.”

Chapter Six

I’d been operating on borrowed time since school began, and I knew my time was up that late April afternoon when my father stopped by Bascom’s to pick up a prescription and caught me sitting in the back booth between Francie and Peggy with all three boys on the other side. We didn’t see him until he stopped beside the table. It got so quiet that I could hear myself breathing.

“I was under the impression that you had instructions to come straight home from school after pep squad practice.” Everyone in the store heard him, and of course everyone knew that we hadn’t had pep squad practice since before Christmas. My private lie was now public knowledge.

Tank got up slowly, straightening his lanky frame with respect he surely didn’t feel and held out his hand. “Hello, Mr. Kroll.”

My father acknowledged him with a curt nod but didn’t shake hands. “Were you or were you not told to come straight home?” he asked me chillingly.

I didn’t look at him. “Yes, sir.” My voice trembled. I hated him for making me afraid in front of my friends.

“Go out to the car and wait for me.”

“She hasn’t finished her cherry lime,” Francie said hopefully.

My father ignored her. “You heard me.”

Francie scooted over to let me out. I felt dizzy and knew I was going to cry, but I didn’t want anyone to see me, especially Bix. He’d warned me I was going to get caught, and he probably felt very smug about now.

Inching my way to the edge of the seat, I let Francie lock my brace and then held on to her as I got up. "It’ll be okay,” she whispered.

Tank took my arm. “I’ll walk you out to the car, Peaches,” he said. Shaking from head to toe the way I was, I’d never have made it on my own.

My father didn’t speak to me on the way home, and dinner later that evening was a silent affair. I couldn’t eat, but no one seemed to notice. I’d already thrown up my lunch as well as the cherry lime. When my parents rose after dinner and motioned me to follow them, I had to hold to the wall for support as I limped toward the library. From the door of the kitchen, Mrs. Flowers watched me with a sad look on her face.

My father pulled the leather chair away from his desk and crossed his legs in a deliberate way that didn’t bode well for me. “I cautioned you about certain associations,” he said. “Obviously, you didn’t listen.”

“I listened,” I said, feeling a little braver now that I was sitting down and had something to hold onto.

“Then explain the company in which I found you this afternoon.

“They’re my friends.” I thought about how I could’ve picked out almost any group except the once I was with and been in less trouble.

“You’ve shown a lack of taste in your choice of friends.”

I gritted my teeth and told myself I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

“Marian, they’re not our kind,” my mother said in that whiny, whispery tone she used around my father. “Foreigners, Jews. . .” She made the words sound like obscenities.

“Francie and her mother are American citizens,” I said.

“She’s our employee. She doesn’t even speak English.” My mother dabbed affectedly at her lips with a lace handkerchief.

Maybe not, I thought, but she understands more than you think, so the joke’s on you!

“The son of a convicted criminal is hardly appropriate company. . .”

I’d been waiting for that. “Bix didn’t do anything,.” I interrupted.

“. . .is hardly appropriate company for you,” my father finished smoothly. “Who was the other girl?”

“Peggy Bailey.”

“Bailey?”

“She’s Min’s niece,” I said, watching his face flush.

“White trash!” he spat. “And the boy, old Geencheen’s. . .”

“Vic Gee-ahn-chee-nee,” I said distinctly. “Vic was born here, too.”

“I don’t care where he was born. All that lot of dagos are worthless.”

“He’s Italian,” I said.

“Don’t be impertinent!”

“I don’t understand the Tankersleys allowing their son to associate with that kind of people,” Mother said. “They’re liable to end up with that little Jewess for a daughter-in-law—or worse!”

My father silenced her with a look I couldn’t interpret. “I don’t want you around any of them anymore, not even the Tankersley boy if that’s the kind of company he keeps.” He stood up, indicating the conversation was over.

“Daniel, I’ve been thinking we should send Marian to Geoff and Fiona. She could live with them and attend Miss Berry’s School.”

“You’d like to get rid of me!” I exploded The sound of my voice echoing in the book-lined room shocked me as much as my parents. “Well, I won’t go! I like it here. For the first time in my life I have friends who like me, even if I am crippled, and they don’t care who you are or how much money you have. They aren’t ashamed to be seen with me, so why should I be ashamed to be seen with them?”

“That’s quite enough, Marian,” my father said coldly. “I’ve given you an order, and I expect it to be obeyed.”

I tried to stand up and fell back, forgetting I hadn’t latched my brace. My mother winced in embarrassment. “Don’t try to send me away,” I said, more afraid of that possibility than of anything my father could say to me. “If you do, I’ll. . . I’ll do something to really humiliate you!” I threatened with nothing specific in mid. “I swear you’ll regret it!”

Mother’s eyes widened. “We’re just trying to protect you,” she whined.

“From what? A normal life? Who am I supposed to make friends with around here? Being poor isn’t a crime. Working in a laundry isn’t like working in a whorehouse.”

“Marian!” my father thundered, “go to your room!”

“No,” I said defiantly, “I’m going to Francie’s!”

“I said, go to your room!”

I kept walking toward the front door, hoping I’d left my crutches in the umbrella stand in the foyer. I didn’t like to be seen with them in public, but I wouldn’t get far without them now. They were there, and I grabbed them. The muscles in my legs were twitching warningly, and all I could think of was Mrs. Walinsky’s wonderful liniment and her strong, gentle hands.

“Go after her, Daniel!” I heard my mother say.

“I’ll not go after your little. . .” The rest was lost as the door slammed behind me.

I never remembered making the long blocks to Francie’s, only collapsing at the bottom of the stairs and screaming for her. She came flying down the stairs with her mother at her heels. The guttural sounds of their rapid Polish words grated on my ears. I shrieked at them to shut up and help me.

Somehow they half-carried, half-drug me up the stairs and put me on the sofa. “It hurts, it hurts!” I sobbed. “Oh, god, Francie do something! Please do something!”

I lay with my head in Francie’s lap while her mother rubbed my legs. Mrs.Walinsky looked more sad than worried, so I was sure she knew what had happened earlier that afternoon. Finally she put the cork back in the bottle and covered me with a quilt. I felt warm and sleepy. Francie and her mother were talking to each other in Polish again, but it didn’t bother me now.

It was dark outside when I woke up. Francie sat on the floor beside me and her mother in a chair across from us. “What time is it?” I murmured.

“Almost ten o’clock,” Francie said. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” I said. She helped me sit up when Mrs. Walinsky brought me some tea and toast.

“I’m sorry about all this,” I said when I’d finished eating.

“It’s okay,” Francie said. Her mother reached across me and touched her arm. Francie shook her head and said something in Polish.

“Nie. Nie, Francziska.”

Francie eyes brimmed with tears. “I told Matka about this afternoon. I guess you had it out with your father before you came here.”

I leaned back. “Did I ever! They’re talking about sending me to Richmond to live with my aunt and uncle.” I was too tired to even get upset again.

Francie told her mother what I’d said, but her mother shook her head again. “Tell her,” she said. “Tell her, Francziska.”

“Matka says you shouldn’t have lied to your parents about what you were doing or sneaked out to come over here. She says she knew deep down you didn’t have permission to come, but she decided not to say anything. But now. . .”

“I’m sorry,” I said to Mrs. Walinsky, knowing she understood me. “But it’s so nice over here, and. . .”

She nodded. “I’m sorry. . .so sorry. . .” she said in halting English.

“I can’t come anymore, can I?” I asked Francie.

She shook her head. “No, but she wants you to understand that it’s not because she’s afraid of losing her cleaning job at the bank. She can always find something else, and besides, no one’s standing in line to scrub those old stairs anyway.

I didn’t want to think about those gentle hands scrubbing floors.

“My mother’s old-world, Peaches,” Francie went on. “She was brought up to respect her parents and to do whatever they said. She married my father when she was only fifteen, even though she’d only seen him twice in her life, because that’s what her family wanted for her.”

“That didn’t work out very well, now did it?” I asked bitterly.

“Why not? It wasn’t his fault he died. And there’s nothing wrong with the way Matka and I live. We have enough to eat and each other. That’s all that counts.”

“You wouldn’t trade your life for mine, would you?”

“I wouldn’t, Peaches.”

Francie went downstairs and used the laundry phone to call Grover who arrived in minutes. He carried me downstairs in silence and put me in the car. Francie’s mother followed and took my face between her hands. “Good girl,” she said softly. “Be good girl.” Then she kissed my cheek. I knew that kiss would have to last a long time.

The house, dark and silent as Grover helped me up the back steps and through the kitchen, felt like a tomb. My tomb. I’d be buried here until I died. “I’ll be all right from here,” I told him. “Thank you.”

He tipped his cap to me. “All right, Miss.”

It was only a few yards to my room, but when I got inside, I fell across the bed without even undressing and went to sleep immediately. Just at dawn I woke and thought I heard Mrs. Walinsky humming that strange, haunting melody.

I didn’t go to school the next day or the day after. I didn’t want to go at all because I looked like death warmed over. But on Friday I hauled myself out of bed, dressed, drank a cup of coffee, and asked Grover to drive me to school.

Francie wouldn’t even look at me. I followed her outside at noon. “It’s not your fault,” I said. “Or your mother’s. I was bound to get caught sooner or later.”

She didn’t say anything. When Peggy joined us, we found a shady spot on the porch, and I took the top step because it was easier to get up and down. “My parents still think we have half an hour for lunch,” I said. “And I’m not going to tell them different even if they kill me.”

Mrs. Flowers had packed fruit, cheese, and crackers for me. Francie offered me part of her sausage, but I shook my head. “I’ve thrown up my toenails for two days. I hurt all over. Mother doesn’t like Doc Barnes, but she called him over anyway, and he gave me a shot and left me some pills.”

“What kind of pills”

“I don’t know They made me stop hurting anyway. And they made me sleepy.”

When the bell rang, I had trouble getting up, and we were all three late to history because I kept having to stop to catch my breath. By the time we got to gym, lMiss Browning wouldn’t even let me keep score for our volleyball game. The Hardegrees dragged an exercise mat over to the side, and insisted I lie down. Francie took off my brace, and I was asleep before she finished.

When I woke up, Grove and Francie were standing over me. “She’s real sick,” Francie said.

“I know that,” he said quietly. He leaned over and picked me up like a baby.

“You rest this week-end,” Francie said as she put my brace on the back seat beside me. “You’ll feel better on Monday.”

For the rest of the year, I walked around in a fog. Sometimes I could actually see a big black cloud hovering around me. My back ached all the time, and leg cramps attacked without warning during the day and woke me every night. When I’d taken all the pills Doc left, my father had the prescription refilled. They made me sleepy, so I couldn’t take them while I was at school. But I made up for lost time as soon as I got home.

Sometimes I’d fall asleep and miss dinner, but no one ever came to see why. Sometimes I’d wake in the night, still dressed, and take more pills and fall asleep again without bothering to get under the cover. I had a hard time waking up in the mornings and quit going to breakfast altogether. Mrs. Flowers began bringing me a tray with coffee and toast. I drank the coffee and left the toast. When Grover drove me to school, he usually had to remind me to pick up my lunch bag along with my books.

Because I was going home from school and falling asleep, I wasn’t keeping up my lessons, and Mr. Nunn told me I was failing algebra. “I’ll make up the work,” I said. “I’ve been sick.” So I stayed after school every day for a week and did the work I’d missed. The next week Mrs. Brewer kept me to make up work for her in English.

Tank and Vic were always around to help me with my locker door, which stuck badly, and even to carry my books for me. Bix said hello when we passed each other but that was all. I guessed he was feeling pretty smug about being right all along.

My mouth always felt dry, and my hands shook until noon. I ate only because Francie watched every bite I put in my mouth. She asked a thousand questions about what was wrong with me, but I didn’t have any answers. I didn’t know what was wrong, and I didn’t really care. Sometimes, alone in my room during the long, lonely weekends, I’d hold the bottle of pills in my hand and wonder what would happen if I swallowed them all. 

Chapter Five

 

     My parents went out of town frequently that fall, so I took advantage of their absence to spend as much time as I could with Francie and Peggy. Peggy was still a krolik all right and could dissolve into tears at the drop of a hat. But other times, when Francie and I got into it, she reached deep inside herself somehow and kept the peace. And, as I found out the night of the first game when she’d told me I had a mean mouth, push her hard enough, and you’d be sorry.

     I took advantage of every opportunity to be with Bix Matthews, too, although I fought with him more than I did with Francie. He was handsome as sin and smart as a whip, and I usually enjoyed our verbal sparring, even when he won. Besides, Francie had Tank, and Peggy had Vic, and I needed someone, too.

     When he realized I was sneaking out on Fridays to spend the night with Francie, he told me in no uncertain terms I shouldn’t do it.

     “Why not?” I countered.

     “You shouldn’t lie to your parents. You shouldn’t lie at all.”

     “I don’t lie. I just crawl out my window.”

     “You know what I mean. Besides, you’re going to get caught.”

     “Then you can tell me you were right, and I was wrong. I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.”

     “It’s none of my business.”

     “Then why did you bring it up?”

     “Forget it.”

     “No, tell me why you even brought it up. I want to know.”

     “I was taught to tell the truth.”

     “Have you told your mother that you and I go around together.”

     His face flushed. “No.”

     “So, you lied to her.”

     “I didn’t say she didn’t know. It’s just never come up.”

     “She wouldn’t like it.”

      “She doesn’t have anything against you.”

     “But she wouldn’t like us spending so much time together.”

     “I guess not,” he admitted.

     “Why do you go around with me anyway? You don’t like the way I talk, and you think I’m dishonest.”

     “I didn’t say. . .”

     “Why do you want to be with me?” I demanded.

     He didn’t look at me. “You’re very beautiful.”

     "And very rich."

      I’d gone too far. He turned on me furiously and seemed about to say something but checked himself. “You don’t understand anything about it,” he said finally. His tone of voice had a frightening tremor. “I like you because you’re not like all the other girls. . .but maybe you should be in some ways.”

     “I’m not like them,” I shot back. “I’m crippled!”

     “Don’t say that!”

     “Why not? It’s true. And it bothers you, doesn’t it?”

     He didn’t answer me, and that Friday night ended on a sour note.

 

     When football season ended, Mr. Nunn said that we could have a dance in the gym. Coach Mack had scraped together enough money from somewhere to get letters for the team. There were no sweaters to go with them, of course, but we could hope for next year.

Excitement about the dance permeated the weeks preceding it, and by the week before, everyone had a date except me. I couldn’t dance, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t go and enjoy the party. Apparently, Bix didn’t think so. I guess someone, probably Francie, said something to him about it, because on Thursday afternoon after school, he finally invited me.

     “What took you so long?” I asked.

     He frowned. “I didn’t know if you’d want to go to a dance.”

     “Because I’m crippled?”

     He cringed at the word.

     “Why does that word make you so uncomfortable?”

     “I don’t know. Do you want to go or not?”

     “Not with you,” I snapped. “Certainly not with you.”

     My parents went out of town again, so Grover drove me to the gym where all the girls in the freshman class came outside to meet me and help me down the stairs onto the gym floor. I figured that had been Francie’s idea, but I gloated over the fact of Bix watching my new-found popularity.

     Pauline put two chairs on the edge of the gym floor and sat down by me. “You look real pretty in that dress, Marian.”

     “Your mother’s a good dressmaker.”

     “She’s hoping she can get a job in Houston whenever Daddy saves enough money for us to come down there.”

     “Maybe she’ll have her own shop someday.”

     Pauline smiled a little. “Well, the money for making your dress will help with the rent this month anyway.”

     The mention of money embarrassed me, but I knew Pauline was just being honest. “You go on back and dance,” I said. “I’m all right.”

     As soon as she’d left, Dorrie—or maybe it was Dolly—came over and sat with me a while. I was never alone, but Bix was. I watched him sulking by the refreshment table. Finally, I got up and went over. “Is the punch any good?”

     “Sure. Want some?”

     “Why not?” I took the cup he handed me.

     “You look very nice.”

     “Thank you. Pauline’s mother made my dress. She’s a dressmaker, you know.”

     “Yes, I know.”

     I figured he wanted to ask me why I needed a new dress, but he wouldn’t have understood I couldn’t come to the dance wearing the dress my mother had bought me in Richmond. It cost four times what I’d paid Mrs. Seeley, plus the material.

     Just then someone tapped me on the shoulder. “Want to dance?” Milt Friedman, with Anna Lee on his arm, looked down at me.

     “Don’t be cute,” I snapped.

     He laughed. “Come on, kiddo,” he said, pointing behind them at the piano stool from the auditorium. “Hop on.”

     Before I could say anything, he’d boosted me onto the stool which was cranked up as high as it would go. “You’re crazy,” I said, trying      not to smile.

“Like a fox,” Anna Lee said. Together they rolled me out onto the dance floor. Milt danced with me first, and then every member of the     football team took a turn. “Atta girl, peaches and cream,” Anna Lee said as she and Milt danced past me later.

     Carey Hardegree, my current partner, grinned. “That’s a good one. Peaches and cream. It fits you. You look real pretty tonight. . .Peaches.”

     “You’re full of baloney,” I said. “Waltz me over to the sidelines now. I’m dying of thirst.”

     He left me at the refreshment table where Mr. Nunn handed me a cup of punch. “I believe you’ve arrived, Miss Kroll,” he said quietly.

     I shrugged. “Thanks for the punch.”

     “These are hard times,” he went on. “Good friends can be our fortune.”

     “I might agree with you if I were poor like most of the others,” I said.

     “Money in the bank doesn’t make one rich. They’ve offered you what they have—themselves. All they want from you in return is your friendship and respect.”

     I held out my cup for a refill. “They have my respect,” I said. “They’re all a lot nicer than I am anyway.”

     “Don’t sell yourself short. I’ve been in this business a long time, and I’ve seen students come and go. I believe you have a great deal to give while you’re here.”

     I was still thinking about what he’d said when Coach Mack announced the last dance. Bix, who’d been sitting with me, said, “Would you like to dance the last one with me? Without the stool, I mean.”

     “Sure,” I said. “Why not?” I latched my brace and took his arm. In a corner of the dance floor, he put his arm around me, and we began to move slowly to the music.

 

     After that night, everyone called me Peaches. Everyone except Bix. “I think I’ll call you Mari,” he said one afternoon as he carried my books to my locker. “With an i.”

     “May-ree! What kind of a name is that?”

     “It fits you better than Peaches. It’s elegant.”

     “Oh.”

     “Do you mind?”

     “I guess not.”

     “You going to Bascom’s for a soda with us this afternoon?”

     “I told Grover not to pick me up.”

     “Good. Tank’s bringing his truck around for us.”

 

     Early in February rumors began to circulate about Pauline and Kip. No one said anything aloud, but it was a topic thoroughly discussed in whispers during the lunch hour and in odd moments between classes and after school. I knew the truth, but I didn’t share it, and even Francie didn’t badger me. One day Pauline didn’t come to school, and I saw Anna Lee cleaning out the locker they shared.

     The same afternoon the Danford Weekly Herald announced that Franklin Fancher “Kip” Kelley had been awarded the football scholarship to the University of Texas, but he didn’t appear as excited as anyone might have expected. Tank, Vic, and Bix kept tight-lipped and uncommunicative about what Coach Mack had said to the team after the basketball game that Kip missed.

     Three days after Anna Lee cleaned out Pauline’s locker, I asked Tank if he’d drive me to Pauline’s house after school. “Sure,” he said.      “Want me to wait for you, too?”

     “Give me half an hour,” I said.

     “No problem.”

     “And could you tell Francie not to start why-whying me?”

     He grinned. “It was easier for Moses to hold back the Red Sea.”

     I sighed. “I know, but try, will you?”

     Pauline’s mother looked surprised to see me. “She’s in her room. She’s been real sick.”

Pauline was lying down in the darkened bedroom, but she struggled to sit up as I came in. “Don’t,” I said. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

     “I guess you know why.”

     “I know.”

     “Kip said he’d figure something out and let me know, but he’s not going to, is he?”

     “No,” I said bluntly, “he’s not. It’s the family curse, Pauline—me first.”

     “Why are you here, then?”

     “Do you love Kip?”

     “I thought I did. Ma says I don’t know what love is.”

     “Do you want the baby?”

     “I’ve got it whether I want it or not.” She rolled over and looked at me. “I don’t know, Peaches. I’ve been so sick, and I’m so mixed up right now.”

     I unlatched my brace and sat down in the rocking chair beside her bed. “My aunt came over last night and discussed everything with my mother. I snuck around the porch and stood by the window and listened.” I took a deep breath. “Here’s the deal. You and Kip will get married and. . .”

      Pauline’s face lit up, but I shook my head. “Listen to me. It’s just until the baby’s born. Then Uncle Thad will have the marriage annulled and take the baby.”

     “Take my baby? Why?”

     “It’s half Fancher, that’s why.”

     “And Kip went along with it?”

     “I don’t think he knows it yet, but he’ll do whatever his parents tell him to do. They’ve got the money, after all.”

     “He said he loved me.” A tear slipped down one cheek.

     “He got what he wanted, too, didn’t he?” I said and immediately regretted the anger in my voice.

     She jerked back like I’d hit her and covered her face with her hands. “I guess I always knew he didn’t mean it.”

     “Pauline,” I said, “I’m not mad at you. I’m angry at that whole pack of. . .well, let it go. Maybe you should’ve known better. I don’t know.  That’s not up to me. But if you want that baby, you’ll get out of here while you still can.”

     “How? Where?”

     “Where’d you come from?”

     “We were living with my Grandmother Seely in Oklahoma. A little town north of Tulsa.”

     “Then go there. That’s out of Texas. I don’t think they’ll chase you that far.”

     “Papa’s trying to save up enough money for Ma and me to come to Houston, but it’s hard. He has to live and try to send enough home for us to eat, too. Ma’s job at the tailor shop doesn’t pay much.”

     I opened my purse and tossed a roll of bills on the bed. “There’s nearly three hundred dollars there. I never spend my allowance. That’s almost a year’s worth.” I laughed harshly. “Obscene, isn’t it? You and your mother are having to pinch pennies to eat, and I get handed money every  week for nothing!”

     Pauline gasped. “I can’t take your money!”

     “Why not?”

     “I just can’t, that’s all.”

     “Call it conscience money if you want to. I don’t care. But take it and get the hell out of here. Don't let the Fanchers get hold of your baby. They’ll ruin it just like they ruined Kip and me.”

     “They didn’t ruin you, Peaches. You’ve been. . .real nice lately.”

     “I was hateful to you when school started last fall. My aunt said you weren’t our kind. You’re damn lucky you’re not, too, and you don’t want to be. And you don’t want your baby to be like us either.”

     “I’ll pay you back some way. It may take the rest of my life, but. . .”

     “Fine, if that’ll make you feel better.” I got to my feet and started for the door. “I mean it, Pauline. Go now. Tonight. Tomorrow. Just go.”

     Mrs. Seely sat on the sofa mending as I came through the parlor. “It’s going to be all right,” I said.

     She looked up in surprise. “Pauline did wrong,” she said. “But her papa and I’ll stand by her.”

     I nodded. “I’m glad for her then.” I put my hand on the doorknob. “I just want you to know the dress you made for me for the dance was the prettiest one I’ve ever had, and that’s the truth. Maybe someday you can make me another one. Times are bound to get better.”

     She looked at me oddly. “I hope so, Marian. Thank you for coming to see Pauline.”

     Tank didn’t ask any questions as he helped me into the truck and drove me home.

 

     On Monday Francie told me excitedly that Pauline and her mother had disappeared over the weekend. “Just up and left in the middle of the night! What do you think of that?”

     I shrugged and didn’t look at her. “It’s none of my business, Francie, or yours either.”

     Later Tank caught me alone between classes. “I reckon you heard about Pauline,” he said close to my ear.

     I began to rearrange the books in my locker. “Yes.”

     “If they’d had the money, they’d have gone to Houston to be with Mr. Seely before now.”

     “I suppose.”

     “Uh-huh,” he said. “I heard Kip telling Milt how he and Pauline were going to get married and how his father would have it annulled as soon as the baby was born.”

     “Really?”

     “He said his mother was going to take the baby back to Virginia and let her brother and sister-in-law raise it.”

     “Uncle Geoff and Aunt Fiona couldn’t raise a dog to bark!”

     “Well, I reckon that won’t happen now,” Tank went on, his face never changing expression.

     I looked straight at him then. “No,” I said triumphantly, “it won’t!”

     He smiled a little, patted my shoulder, and walked away.

Chapter Four

     Just about daylight, Francie shoved me into my window, and I fell on my head. She looked in at me and laughed, then crawled in and helped me up. Peggy was still down in the azaleas which was probably better anyway. “Go home,” I told Francie, “before you get me killed.”

     “Nobody’s going to kill you. Don’t be so dramatic.”

     “You don’t know my father. He doesn’t like me anyway.”

     She frowned. “You talk real ugly about your parents, but look at everything they’ve given you.” She waved her hand at my room and toward the closet that she’d hidden in yesterday—and discovered, I guessed, it was full of clothes.

“You don’t know anything about it! Your mother. . .” I felt like crying but was determined not to do it in front of Francie. “Your mother gave me more last night than I’ve ever had in my whole life.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “You wouldn’t understand. Go on and get out of here now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” When she’d gone, I threw myself on my bed and cried until Mrs. Flowers came in with my breakfast and told me that my parents wanted me dressed for church by a quarter of eleven.

     Bix was at church with his mother and little sister, but when it looked like he might try to speak to me, I turned my head. Tank and his parents were there, too, and they all spoke to me, but that was all right. My father said they were the oldest family in the county and had plenty of money.

     Dutch was short, bowlegged, nearly bald, sort of pot-bellied, and had a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles in his shirt pocket. I thought I saw a cigar there, too. Miss Grace’s hair was sort of salt-and-pepper, and her eyes were as blue as Dutch’s, and she was even shorter than he was. I wondered how they’d managed to have a son who was tall, slim, and green-eyed.

     Tank got me aside and said he and Vic were going to take Francie and Peggy to the park later that afternoon and would pick me up, too, if I wanted to go. “I don’t think so,” I said. “I’d be odd man out.”

     “Bix might come along, too,” he said.

     “I’ll ask my father,” I said. “He might let me go. . .with you.”

     My father couldn’t say yes fast enough, it seemed, and Tank came by in his truck to get me. Vic got out and let me in the middle and said we’d go get Bix next. “The girls are meeting us at the park.”

     “The far end, I hope. If my father catches me with the rest of you. . .” I stopped.

I saw Vic look over my head at Tank and knew what he was thinking.

     “We got all our lessons studied this morning while you were listening to that preacher,” Francie told Tank as she spread a quilt on the grass.

     “A sermon or two couldn’t hurt you,” he said and winked at Peggy, who giggled.

     “Ah, she walks, she giggles. . .but can she talk?”

     “I’m working on her,” Francie said, and Peggy blushed.

     “Not too hard,” Vic said. “I sort of like her the way she is.” Peggy blushed again. “And I went to Mass this morning while Tank was in church. So, my soul’s in good shape for another week.”

     “You’re Catholic?” I said.

     “Yep.”

     “What are you, Peggy?” I asked.

     She didn’t lift her head. “Nothing. Mamma only got Sundays off and had to rest.”

     “Well, I guess you can have your choice,” Francie said. “You can do Shabbas or get dunked in the Baptist Church or play with a bunch of beads like Vic.”

     “Peg’s just fine the way she is,” Vic said in that quiet voice which didn’t seem to go with his big, powerful body.

     Bix showed up just then, and Tank went back to the truck for a big basket. “Mom sent us a picnic supper.”

     “Peggy ate so many latkes this morning that I bet she doesn’t have room for anything,” Francie said, opening the basket and starting to take things out.  There was potato salad and cold chicken that Tank said his father had barbecued outside, sliced tomatoes, homemade bread and butter and crabapple jelly, and a jar of something that Tank said were watermelon rind pickles. I could’ve eaten all of them. Just when I thought I was going to explode, Francie pulled out a huge chocolate cake.

     We’d been too busy to talk much, but when Tank and Francie strolled down closer to the creek, and Vic and Peggy went back to the truck and sat on the running board, Bix spoke to me for the first time.

     “So how do you like being back in Danford?”

     “It’s all right, I guess.”

     “We built that wagon for you yesterday.”

     “I’m making myself a costume.”

     “Yes?”

     “It’ll be a work of art, too.”

     “We put a seat across one end so that you don’t have to stand up the whole game.”

     “That’s nice.”

     In the long silence that followed, the locusts in the mesquites began their grating night song. “Have you read your chapters for tomorrow?”

     “I read the whole book last year. I know it by heart.”

     “I noticed you raised your hand in class all the time this week.”

     “I’m a very good student.”

     It was like he’d pulled inside of himself and closed the door. I knew, because I did it, too.

      “So am I,” he finally said. “I’m going for valedictorian because of the scholarship.”

     “Then I hope you get it.”

     “Thank you. I feel sure I will.”

     We’d run out of anything else to say, it seemed, so I was relieved when Tank came back and said it was time to go. He said he’d take me home first and come back for everyone else. “I’ll walk Peg home,” Vic said.

     “I’ll walk, too,” Bix said.

     “Then I’ll just go with you now,” said Francie, folding the quilt and looking around to be sure she hadn’t missed anything.

Later, I thought how Bix hadn’t even said goodnight. He was a real snob, I decided, and he sure didn’t have any reason to be. I had a mind to try for valedictorian, too, just to show him he wasn’t so smart, but the truth was, I didn’t care. Still, I reached for The House of the Seven Gables and reviewed the chapters due tomorrow before I went to sleep.       

     The school’s first football game happened at the end of the second week. I’d finished my costume but hadn’t shown it to anyone except Mrs. Flowers. She went upstairs to the attic and brought down some old carpet pieces, and Grover came in with some chicken wire, and between the three of us, we made a head I could slip on and off. The eyes were huge green jeweled buttons Mrs. Flowers said had come from one of my mother’s discarded evening gowns. I made a yarn pompom for the nose and embroidered a grinning mouth with red yarn. Grover brought in something he called an awl to punch holes around the mouth so that I could add pieces of wire wrapped in black yarn as whiskers.

     “You’ll be a real fine bobcat, Miss,” Grover said when he put the box with my costume into the car on Friday morning. He looked at me sideways. “You did ask your daddy if you could stay late today, didn’t you?”

     “This morning at breakfast,” I said. “I wouldn’t get you in trouble, Grover, not for the world.”

     He nodded. “Thank you, Miss. I’ll be there to get you when the game’s over.”

     “I don’t know when that’ll be. Someone can bring me home. Tank will bring me if I ask him.”

     “All right, Miss.”

     Grover drove me straight to the gym that morning and put my box inside the door. The pep squad girls all wore their uniforms to school, and I felt smug about how well Peggy’s fit her and said as much to Anna Lee when I ran into her between classes.

     “You did good,” she said without the usual hard edge to her voice. “Do you have your costume?”

     “It’s a masterpiece, that’s all.”

     She shook her head and started off, but then she looked back at me and smiled.

     “Why do they play games right after school?” I asked Francie. “It’s so hot.”

     “There aren’t any lights on the field, you goose! How’re they supposed to see where they’re going when it gets dark?”

     “Why does the game last so long?”

     “Time outs. . .overtime.” She grinned. “A couple of years ago one of the games went into overtime, and it got dark, so all the people with cars lined them up alongside the field and turned on the lights. Milt’s brother Harry who was supposed to be guarding the quarterback, like Tank does you know, was running down the field and started wondering why nobody was coming after them. And then he realized he was running the wrong way with the other team’s guy! They liked to never let him live that down!” She burst out laughing.

     Peggy, standing beside her, sputtered, then giggled. “That’s funny. . .going the wrong way!”

     I didn’t see the humor in it, but I didn’t say so. I had to admit it was just nice to see Peggy look happy because she usually didn’t, and I was beginning to feel sort of sorry for her lately.

     When I came out of the dressing room wearing my costume, all the girls cheered, and when I put on my head, they cheered louder. “It’s wonderful, Marian,” Pauline said as she helped me into the bell cart. “You’re very talented.”

     “Thank you,” I said politely, trying to settle myself comfortably on the hard wooden seat. “Thank you, Pauline, for thinking about this.”

     “It was Mr. Nunn’s idea.”

     Anna Lee charged up then with the Hardegrees. “Remember what I said. Dump her, and I’ll cut your gizzards out!”

Dolly. . .or maybe it was Dorrie. . .said, “We don’t have gizzards.”

     Anna Lee glared at them. “Yes, you do, and I’ll find them and cut them out like I said.”

     I rode onto the field in style, just behind the pep leaders. Within minutes, I was soaked with perspiration and kept having to take off my head for a breath of fresh air. Pauline kept me supplied with paper cups of water from the big cooler under the stands. “Never mind,” she said sympathetically. “When it gets cold weather, you’ll be toasty warm, and we’ll all be freezing in these uniforms because they’re mostly holes anyway.”

     “By the time cold weather gets here, I’ll be melted like the tin soldier,” I shot back. “Maybe this was a dumb idea after all.” But I knew it wasn’t. I couldn’t remember being so happy in ages.

Danford won, and after the game, the whole pep squad ran out onto the field to congratulate the team and left me on the sidelines with their discarded megaphones and pompoms. Hot and miserable, my backside numb from sitting on the wooden board, I was getting ready to ring the bell good and loud to remind somebody that I was here when I saw Bix coming towards me.

     “Get me out of here!” I yelled at him. “Everybody went off and left me, dammit.”

     He hesitated. “You can get into trouble for language like that,” he said.

     “I don’t care. Are you going to get me out of here or not?”

     He put his helmet on the ground and lifted me out of the wagon. I started unsnapping my costume as soon as I got my balance. “I’m decent under here,” I said when he eyed me nervously. “I’m also soaking wet.”

     He folded my costume over the side of the wagon and offered me his arm. “Walk me off the field?”

     Peggy and Francie had long since gone with Vic and Tank, completely forgetting about me. I’d show them, I thought. I’d walk a football player off the field, too, even if it was Bix Matthews.  I lifted my chin and took his arm. “Why not?”

     “I was wondering if you’d like to have a soda at Bascom’s later?”

     “I certainly would!”

     “You can sit on the bench outside the fieldhouse and wait for me then.”

     I spotted Francie and Peggy at the fieldhouse waiting on Tank and Vic. “Some friends you two are! You left me stranded!”

     Francie’s deep dimples showed. “No, we didn’t. Bix asked us to get out of the way and give him a chance.”

     I unlatched my brace and flopped down beside her. “Why’d you do that?”

     “I probably shouldn’t have. You’ll be in big trouble if you ever get caught in public with him.”

     “Well, I’m going in public with him tonight. He asked me for a soda.”

     “We’re all going to get sodas, goose, but after we help Peggy clean the kitchen.”

     “You don’t have to,” Peggy mumbled.

     “Sure, I do,” Francie said, “and you’re going to help Matka and me at the bank on Sunday morning. We’ll be out of there before noon, too, and I’ve got better things to do than spend my weekend scrubbing old man Kroll’s stairs!” Her voice trailed off. “Marian, I’m sorry.”

     “Forget it.” I struggled to my feet. “I’m going back to the locker room for my things.”

     Peggy got up, too. “I’ll go with you.”

     When we got there, I knew I couldn’t walk back. “I’ll tell Tank to bring the truck up here,” she said.

     “Don’t do me any favors,” I snapped.

     The tip of her nose got pink. “You’ve got a mean mouth. No wonder you didn’t have any friends at that school in Dallas.”

     “Who told you that?”

     “Francie.”

     “How would she know anything about it?”

     Peggy turned around and walked out. When she’d gone, I washed my face and arms and combed my hair. Though I was drying out nicely now, I wished I’d brought some clean clothes.  While I waited on a bench near the door to see if I’d been forgotten again, Pauline came in with a load of pompoms. “What are you doing in here by yourself?”

     “Waiting on Tank’s truck to come get me.”

     “What do you want me to do with your costume?”

     “Hang it up by the ears, I guess. It’s as wet as I am.”

     She brought in the flannel suit and arranged it over some chairs. “I’ll put it up Monday. It’s a great costume, Marian. I’d never have thought of anything like it.”

     “Thank you.”

     I heard a horn honk twice. “That must be Tank.”

     Pauline held out her hand to help me up. I was glad enough to take it, but it took two tries to get on my feet. “Do you hurt?” she asked.

     “Just stiff. You try sitting on that seat for two hours and see how you feel.” I regretted my words as soon as they were out of my mouth. “I’m sorry,” I said in a rare apology. “I’m just tired and grouchy.”

     “I’ll get my mother to make a cushion for it. She’s a seamstress, you know. She can’t get much work these days, but she does alterations down at the tailor shop on the square.”

     “That would be nice, Pauline. Thank you.”

     “Sure.” She walked with me to the door and held it for me. “Have a good time tonight.”

     Peggy didn’t look at me as Tank helped me into the front beside her. I felt bad about hurting her feelings again, but she wore them on her shoulder anyway. I felt even worse when she signaled us the coast was clear in the kitchen at the boarding house, and I saw the awful mess she had to clean up every night by herself.

      Vic stood in the door and looked around, and his jaw got tight. Bix sniffed the air, which smelled of stale cooking grease. Tank rolled up his sleeves and said, “Time’s a-wasting. Bascom’s won’t be open forever, you know.”

     He and Vic washed the dishes, while Francie dried them and handed them to Bix to put away where Peggy pointed. I wondered how she lifted all those heavy iron pots and skillets or reached the high shelves by herself. I sat at the table and dried the silver and recounted it twice. “It’s all here,” I said when Bix went out to burn the garbage at the back of the lot. “Fourteen each of forks, spoons, and knives, eight serving spoons, and three meat forks.”

     “You better count again,” Peggy said. “Aunt Min’ll be real mad if. . .”

     “I told you I’d counted it twice! And Aunt Min can just go to. . .”

     Big tears welled up in Peggy’s eyes. Vic saw them and frowned at me. “One more time won’t hurt,” he said.

     I counted again. “All here, just like I said.” Peggy gathered the cutlery up in her apron and carried them to the drawer. “Where is the old tart?” I asked while she was putting them away.

     “Upstairs. She always goes upstairs right after supper.”

     “And leaves you to do all this?”

     Peggy shrugged. “Mamma told her I’d work for my room and board.”

     “She didn’t sell you into slavery.”

     Vic touched my shoulder and shook his head at me.

       “I can’t imagine why she hasn’t heard all of us down here,” I went on.

      Vic curved his fingers around an imaginary bottle and lifted it to his mouth, dropping it as soon as Peggy turned around. “All finished, Peg?”

     She looked around. “Uh-huh. But you all didn’t have to. . .”

     I saw a way to redeem myself. “We wanted to, krolik. All for one, and one for all, you know.”

     Tank hung the dishcloth on the rack and took off his apron. “Anybody else ready for a soda but me?”

     “I sure am,” Francie said. “And Matka said I could go.”

     “I guess they don’t excommunicate you from being a Jew,” Vic said and laughed.

     Francie shook her mop of black hair. “Nope. You’re born a Jew and die a Jew.”

     I watched Vic walk over to Peggy and hold out his hand. “Ready, Peg?”

     Her fingers touched his hesitantly, then enfolded them in a gentle way that seemed almost like a woman. “You like chocolate or vanilla?” he said as they headed for the door.

     “Chocolate,” I heard her say. “I do love chocolate, Vic.”

     Bix didn’t offer to help me up, but Tank hauled me to my feet. “May I say you looked ravishing in your tail and whiskers, Miss Bobkitty?”

     “All she lacked was claws,” Francie said.

     I started to say she was the first one I’d use them on if I had them, but I didn’t.

     Most of the Friday night customers had come and gone when the six of us squeezed into the back booth at Bascom’s, girls on one side and boys on the other. Tank and Francie did most of the talking. I kept watching the way Vic smiled at Peggy and wished Bix would do more than just stare at me. It made me uncomfortable, because I knew what he was thinking. I’d heard it a thousand times before. “She’s beautiful, Vivian,” people said to my mother. “A real southern belle. I suppose she’ll make her debut in a year or two.”

     My mother smiled that superior smile and acknowledged the compliment, mainly because I looked like her, but we both knew there would be no debut. A cripple couldn’t curtsey, much less dance at a cotillion. I was the greatest disappointment of her life, but no one ever knew it.

     Tank offered to drive us all home, but Vic said he’d walk with Peggy. “Walk her to the laundry, then,” Francie said. “She’s staying the      weekend again with Matka and me. How about you, Marian?”

     “I’m probably already in trouble for being this late,” I said, glancing at my watch. It was almost eight-thirty. But bring my chariot to the azaleas anyway, and if I can get out, I will.”

     “I’ll drop you first then,” Tank said.

     I looked straight at Bix. “A walk with me isn’t exactly a stroll down the Champs-Elysee, so it’s a good thing Tank has his truck.”

I knew from the expression on his face that he didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. “Yes,” he said finally, “it’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

     He walked me to Tank’s truck and held the door but didn’t touch me. “I’m going to catch hell for being late,” I said.

     “Girls around here don’t talk like that,” he said.

     I felt a mean satisfaction that I’d shocked him twice in one night. “Sorry, it just slipped out.”

     He left in a hurry.

     Mother and Father were in the library when I came in. “It’s eight-forty-five,” Father said.

     “Yes, sir. Some of us went to Bascom’s for a soda after the game.”

     “Who were you with?”

     “With Tank,” I said. It was only half a lie--again.

     “Oh. Well, perhaps you should let us know what time you expect to arrive home after this.”

     “The same time, I suppose. Danford won.”

     Mother looked me over. “You’re rather disheveled, Marian.”

     “I had on my costume over my dress. The bobcat costume I told you I made.”

     “Oh, yes.”

      “It was very hot.”

     “Undoubtedly. We’ll be driving to San Angelo in the morning.”

     Excitement fluttered in the pit of my stomach. “Will you be overnight?”

     “Yes. And from there we’re going to San Antonio for a week. We should be back a week from Sunday.”

     Visions of afternoons eating Mrs. Flowers’ sandwiches and custard with Peggy and Francie filled my head, and I had to work hard at not smiling. “I hope you have a pleasant time.”

     “I’m sure we will. Mrs. Flowers will look after you.”

     “Tank said his mother might have a picnic for. . .for some of us. . .at the ranch next Friday. Would it be all right if I went?”

     My parents exchanged glances. “I see no reason why not,” my father said. “Neal Tankersley’s from a good family. I don’t object to you going places with him. I would caution you, however, about some other associations around here.”

     “Yes, sir. I understand.” I understood all right. He’d fall down in fits and foam at the mouth of he knew I’d been with a Jew, the niece of a drunken ex-prostitute, and someone whose name was Gianchinni. “Well, have a pleasant trip,” I said again. “I’m rather tired. I think I’ll go to bed.”

     No one said goodnight, but then, I didn’t expect them, too.   

      I showered and put on fresh clothes and then sat down by the window to wait for Francie. At nine-thirty, I heard my parents go upstairs, and at nine-forty-five, Francie scratched on the screen. “The lights are out upstairs,” she whispered. “You ready to go?”

     Once again the wheelchair jarred every bone in my body, and I still had to climb the stairs to Francie’s place. “I guess we could haul you up in a bucket,” she said when I had to stop half-way up to catch my breath. “But you’d made a big hole if we dropped you.”

     “This isn’t funny, Francie,” I said, too exhausted to be mad.

     Unexpectedly, Peggy said, “No, it’s not. Marian’s walked around all day and half the night, and this isn’t doing her any good.” I threw   Peggy a grateful look and vowed to try to be nicer to her.

     By the time we got into bed, I knew I was in for a bad cramp. Francie rubbed as hard as she could, but it wouldn’t go away. I cried so hard Mrs. Walinsky came running to see what was wrong, and then she started to work on my leg, too. Even when the cramp was gone, all I  could do was lie there and whimper while Peggy smoothed my hair and murmured sympathetically.

     In a few minutes Mrs. Walinsky came back with a big bottle of white liquid. Spreading a thick towel across her lap, she lifted my leg onto it and uncorked the bottle. “My grandmother used to make this for my grandfather’s horse,” Francie said.

     Peggy leaned over and sniffed. “It doesn’t stink.”

     “No, and it sure made the horse smell pretty!” Francie rolled over laughing and holding her sides.

     “Dammit, Francie, I don’t feel like laughing!”

     Mrs. Walinsky frowned, whether at my language or the sight of my withered leg all stained yellow from the leather straps of the brace, I wasn’t sure. She poured some of the white stuff onto her hands and began to rub my leg. The instant warmth lulled me into drowsiness. With blurred vision, I saw her hair was loose from its usual braid and streaming down her back, making her look younger and prettier than ever. Impulsively I reached for a strand of the coal black hair and twirled it around my finger. It was soft and fine, nothing like my mother’s lacquered French twist.

     Mrs. Walinsky smiled at me. “Poor little one,” she said. “Better now, yes?”

     “Better now yes,” I murmured sleepily. I thought of all the nights I’d woken crying with leg cramps and how my mother had never once come to see about me. “I wish you were my Matka, too,” I heard myself say.

     Later I felt myself being lifted and tucked under the covers. Peggy’s knees pressed against the small of my back, and one little hand stroked and patted my shoulder. “Sleep good,” Mrs. Walinsky said. “Dream nice.”

     I went straight to bed again when Francie and Peggy delivered me back to my room before daylight the next morning. When I woke, Mrs. Flowers came in to tell me my parents had gone and to ask if I wanted breakfast. “I’m not very hungry,” I said.

     She brought me some orange juice and toast and sat down on my bed while I ate. “Marian, I’m responsible for you this week while your parents are away, so I’d really appreciate it if you’d tell me the truth about where you go and when to expect you home.”

I couldn’t look at her. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll tell you the truth. There’s going to be a picnic next Friday at the Tankersley ranch. My parents    said I could go.”

     “Yes, they mentioned that. Grover will come after you. . .your friends Francie and Peggy, too.” She bit her lip. “Marian. . .perhaps it would be better if. . .if they stayed here next Friday.”

     I knew then that she’d been aware that I’d sneaked out. “I’ll ask them.”

     “And we won’t say anything to your parents about all this.”

     “No, of course not.”

     When I’d finished, she took the tray and started for the door. “Marian. . .”

     “Yes, Mrs. Flowers?”

     “I know it isn’t easy, dear. . .and believe me, I want you to have a good time, but. . .”

     “I’ll do what you say while my parents are gone, but I won’t promise you anything about later.”

     She sighed and closed the door softly behind her.

 

     We helped Peggy clean the kitchen again the next Friday. Tank said his mother knew we’d be late. Bix didn’t act any happier about being there than he had the first time, but when Francie flew into him about putting the cups in the wrong place, I said, “Leave him alone, Francie. We’re all doing the best we can in this unholy mess!”

     Peggy burst into tears. “None of you has to be here! I can do it myself.”

     Vic dried his hands and put his arms around her thin shoulders. “Shhh, Peg, it’s okay. You’re just tired, that’s all.”

     “I counted the silver three times, krolik,” I interrupted. “Just like you asked me to.”

     Peggy sat down suddenly in the middle of the floor and buried her face in her hands. “I hate this place! I hate it! Oh, Mamma, Mamma, come get me!”

     “We’ll wait for you two in the truck,” Tank said, hanging up the dishcloth and motioning the rest of us out. He reached for the trash, but Bix beat him to it. Outside he said, “Listen, all this feuding’s got to stop, especially around Peggy. She doesn’t need it. None of us does.”

       Francie scowled, then took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Bix,” she said.

     “It’s okay. I’m going to burn the trash now.”

     “I shouldn’t have called it an unholy mess in there. . .although that’s what it is.”

     Tank put his boot on the running board. “Peggy’s just a little baby thing, and I don’t mean that in an ugly way. From what she tells Vic, her mamma kept her real close, and she’s never been in the middle of fussing or a lot of people wanting their own way about things. And she sure never had to work this hard. Vic’s going to start coming by every night when he gets off at the plant to help her.”

     “That’s a mile here and back,” I said.

     “He wants to do it.”

     By the time Bix had finished burning the trash, Vic came out the back door holding Peggy’s hand. She’d stopped crying, but her eyes were swollen, and her nose was red. “Go get her a cold cloth for her face, Vic,” I said, feeling suddenly protective. “Please,” I added.

When he brought it, I held it to her face. “You don’t want Miss Grace to know you’ve been crying,” I whispered to her. “Don’t pay any attention to us. We’re not very nice to each other sometimes, but we’ll stick to each other through thick and thin.” I wasn’t sure about including Bix but thought I might as well include him, too.

     Miss Grace told the boys what a good game they’d played, and she hugged Francie and then me, but Peggy seemed to be trying to disappear behind Vic. “This is Peggy, Miss Grace,” Francie said, jerking Peggy forward. “She’s such a krolik!”

     Miss Grace put one hand under Peggy’s chin and lifted her face, and all of a sudden she jumped like she’d seen a ghost. But all she said was, “Welcome, Peggy. We hope you’ll come out often.”

     Dutch had barbecued a goat, and later, the boys brought out the ice cream churn and took turns cranking it. “Dibs on the dipper!” Francie hollered as Tank pulled it out and put it in a pan.

     Peggy hadn’t eaten much barbecue, after she found out what it was, but she ate two bowls of ice cream. “You’re going to get fat,” I said, pinching her skinny rump.

     The tip of her nose turned pink, and she moved away from me. All right, be a lump! I thought. I’ve tried to be nice to you tonight, and you won’t let me!

     Bix and Vic were going to spend the night at the ranch, so it was just Peggy and Francie and me in the backseat of the car as Grover drove us into town. “Why don’t you all spend the night at my place for a change?” I said. “My parents are out of town.”

     “They wouldn’t like it,” Francie said.

     “They won’t know.”

     “I’ll have to ask Matka.”

     “Grover won’t mind stopping by Goldman’s. Will you, Grover?”

     “I’ll be glad to stop, Miss,” Grover said from the front seat.

     When Francie ran up the stairs with Peggy hot on her heels, I had an awful feeling they wouldn’t be back. But in a few minutes they were. Mrs. Flowers offered us something to eat, but all Francie wanted to do was soak in my big tub, and when she got out, Peggy got in. “A bathroom all to yourself,” Francie said as she buttoned her nightgown. “With a tub and a shower!”

     “I use the shower most of the time.”

     “For heavens’ sake, why, goose? If I had a tub like that.. .” Francie began.

     “You don’t think past the end of your nose! Why do you think I have to use the shower unless someone else helps me?” I looked up from unfastening my brace just as Peggy came out of the bathroom. 

     She stood there in the door looking at Francie and then at me and then back at Francie. “Marian’s right,” she said in that tiny little voice. “You don’t think much, Francie.” She walked over to the ottoman where I was sitting and began to help me with my brace. “I washed the tub real good when I got out. I’ll help you if you want to have a soak, too.”

     “You couldn’t hold me up if your life depended on it!” I tossed my brace aside with more force than I intended. It hit the wall and clattered onto the floor. “I told you before—I don’t need you feeling sorry for me!”

     I waited for her to duck her head, but she didn’t. “Mamma says it’s okay to feel sorry with somebody. I feel sorry with you, Marian. I guess you’re stuck with that brace the way I’m stuck living with Aunt Min.”

     “You won’t live there forever, though, but I’ll never get rid of this damn brace.”

     Her gray-green eyes never left mine. “I know.” She turned around. “I’m going to run some water in the tub, and you get your crutches and come on in the bathroom. I’m stronger than I look.”

     She was, too. She got me in and out of the tub with no help from Francie, and we all went to bed in silence. Finally, I said, “Well. . .sleep good.”

      “Dream nice,” Peggy and Francie said almost at the same time.

     But this time, nobody tucked me in and kissed me goodnight.

Chapter Three

Francie was waiting at the curb when Grover dropped me off the next

morning. “One brought one’s lunch today,” she said as we started up the sidewalk.

I bit back the words that came to mind and said, “One did.”

     “Peggy’s not here yet. Tank said Vic was walking her to school. Vic’s never paid any attention to any girl, and now he’s walking Peggy home and to school and. . .”

     “Why do you call him Tank?”

     “I don’t know. Everybody does. Always has. They call his daddy Dutch. The Tankersley ranch is the biggest one around here. Tank’s great-granddaddy came here after the war between the states. You’ll have to get him to tell you the story about how he was a prisoner of war up north somewhere and had to walk home to Mississippi barefooted, and his wife was dead, and his farm was burned up and. . .

     “I didn’t ask for his genealogy,” I said.

     “What’s that?”

     “His family history. What about Vic?”

     “His mamma’s dead, and his sister, too, and his daddy’s the nightwatchman for the plant.”

     “He looks foreign.”

     “He’s Italian. Well, his folks were anyway. Straight from the old country, like mine. My father was the plant manager until he died. I was only four, so I don’t really remember him. He came over here when he was twelve. Matka’s family came later. She was just fifteen when they got married and hadn’t even seen him but twice, and then. . .”

     “Don’t you ever shut up?”

     She scowled. “You asked me.”

     I decided to go for broke. “What about Bix Matthews?”

     “Why do you want to know?”

     “I just do.”

     “His mother’s a nurse at the county hospital, and he has a little sister, Laura, who’s eight. I babysit for her sometimes.”

     “What about his father?”

     “I told you we didn’t talk about that around here.”

     “I’ll ask somebody else then.”

     She pulled me aside and looked around quickly. “All right. He was the head bookkeeper in your daddy’s bank, and some money went missing. Some of the money was what the owner of the plant had put there for Matka and me after my father died.”

     “So, he took the money.”

     “Dutch says he didn’t, and so do a lot of other people. All I know is, he went to prison for it, and Matka and I never got any money, and then he died last spring”

     “In prison?”

     Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Yes, but don’t say anything.”

     “Doesn’t everybody know?”

     She shook my arm a little. “They don’t talk about it!”

     Vic was carrying Peggy’s bookbag when they showed up a little later. As usual, she had her head down. “See you later,” he said in a soft voice as he left her with Francie and me under the tree at the end of the sidewalk. She was plain as an old shoe, I thought, and Vic was really sort of handsome. What he saw in her was beyond me.

     At noon the three of us ate outside again. I didn’t get a cramp, and Mrs. Flowers’ thinly-sliced roast beef between two pieces of light bread was a lot better than what I’d eaten yesterday. Francie never shut up the whole time we were eating. She knew everything about everybody and seemed bound to tell it all. Peggy nibbled on an apple and a couple of cookies, which seemed to be all she had in her bag. When I offered her half of my sandwich, she started crying and jumped up and ran off.

     “I just thought she might be hungry,” I said when Francie gave me a disgusted look.

     “Oh, Min feeds her all right, I guess.”

     “She looks like a good gust of wind might blow her away.”

     “She’s not very happy, that’s for sure. I’m going to invite her over for the weekend when the boardinghouse empties out. We can go get our pep squad uniforms together.”

     “I thought your Sunday was on Saturday.”

     “How did you know that?”

     “I looked it up. It starts at sundown Friday, so how are you and Milt going to be at the football game?”

     “Well, we are. Matka isn’t too picky about it, and neither are the Friedmans, at least during football season.”

     “I never knew a Jew before.”

     She laughed. “Well, there aren’t too many of us around here. Milt’s family owns the funeral parlor over on Oak Street, and the Birnbaums own the department store, and the Goldmans have the laundry. Matka and I are the poor ones.”

     We found Peggy in the bathroom later. “Marian didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Francie told her.

     “I can bring lunch,” she mumbled. “Eating makes me feel sort of sick lately.”

     “Wait’ll you taste Matka’s latkes this weekend. That’s potato pancakes. Those won’t make you feel sick.”

     When we got to the domestic science room after history, Miss Browning told me two of the girls had admitted they could sew a little and offered to help make the gym suits. Between the three of us, we got everybody measured and showed them how to lay out the patterns on the material and start cutting.

     The Hardegrees grumbled the whole time, saying that the only kind of shears they knew anything about were sheep shears, but I noticed one of them finished pretty quick and went over to help Peggy.      

     In English, I raised my hand every time Miss Brewer asked a question, and so did Bix Matthews. I’d sat in the back again in every class so I could watch him pretending not to look at me. He didn’t speak to me though. Pauline Seeley didn’t speak to me either when I went to pep squad practice after school. I knew I’d snubbed her good the day before, and in a way I was sorry. She’d been really sweet to Peggy again, telling her how glad she was going to be the other freshman leader and how she’d been new in Danford, too, a few years ago and knew it wasn’t much fun to be in a strange place.

     The Hardegrees seemed to take an evil delight in hauling me up into the stands again. They were starting to grow on me but, like Francie, I couldn’t tell Dolly from Dorrie. Both of them looked a lot like their older brother Carey, a senior and a starter on the team. Anna Lee and Pauline taught us two cheers and the hand motions that went with them, and then we settled down to watch the boys again.

     It was a little embarrassing to see Grover drive right up to the field, but I had to admit I didn’t want to walk all the way to the front again. This time Tank got me down because Kip had already gone off with Pauline. From the car, I watched Vic help Peggy down and start off with her, and Tank and Francie walked together to his truck. By the time we got home, I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself anymore, just very, very mad at Francie and Peggy for having something I didn’t.

     On Friday afternoon, Pauline asked Peggy if she was really going to be in the pep squad. She ducked her head in the way that had irritated me all week and mumbled that she didn’t know. “Peggy has to clean up the kitchen at night,” Francie said quickly, “but I’m going to help her on Friday nights, so it’ll be okay.”

     “You don’t have to,” Peggy said, digging the toe of her scuffed shoe in the powdery dirt beside the stands.

     “Well, I want to, so there,” Francie said, giving her arm a shake.

     “Actually, I was wondering how you were going to make it on Fridays,” Pauline said. “Anna Lee said Milt’s parents told him he could play but that he had to come straight home after the game.”

     “Yeah, well, I have to go straight home, too. . .I mean, after I help Peggy. Matka said helping Peggy would be all right.” She gave Peggy’s thin arm another shake. “And she said for you to come home with me when we’re finished. We’ll have Shabbas then.”

     “Peggy’s not a Jew,” I said.

     “She doesn’t have to be.” Francie pushed back her unruly curls and wiped her forehead with the back of one hand. “You can come, too, if you want to.”

     “I’m lucky to be staying for the game,” I said. “What’s Shabbas?”

     “That’s our Sabbath meal. Matka’ll cook it before dark and just keep it warm. We can’t do any work on the Sabbath, you know. That’s why she cleans the bank on Sundays. So, I’ll help Peggy clean the kitchen on Friday night, and she can stay over and help Matka and me clean the bank on Sundays, and. . .”

     I felt my face flame and turned my back on her.

      “So how are you going to get your uniform on Saturday?” Pauline asked.

     “As long as I don’t go uptown, it’ll be okay.”

     I turned back around and noticed the big tears dripping off the end of Peggy’s nose. “Now what’s the matter?”

     Her shoulders began to shake. “I hate it here! You’re mean, and Francie talks all the time, and Aunt Min. . .” She shut her lips suddenly.

     “Hey, krolik, it’ll be okay,” Francie said.

     Peggy dropped down in the grass and pulled her knees up under her chin. “Leave me alone! You just leave me alone! I want my Mamma. . .oh, Mamma…Mamma. . .”

     Francie got down with her and put her arms around her. “Don’t cry, Peggy. I know you miss your Mamma. I’d miss Matka something fierce if she got sick and had to go away and. . .”

     “Well, I wouldn’t miss my mother!” I said. We’d been standing there forever, and my back hurt, and just the thought of the Hardegrees waiting to haul me up into the stands made me mad. “She’s a bitch!”

     Francie sucked in her breath so loudly that I looked to be sure she wasn’t choking. “Marian!” Her black eyes practically popped out of her head.

     “Well, she is!”

     “Listen, when you get licked until you can’t sit down and detention until you’re forty-three, don’t expect any sympathy from me!”

     “I don’t expect anything from you!”

     Pauline got between us. “That’s enough from both of you. Marian, we don’t talk that way around here. I know you don’t like me, but you better listen to me anyway.”

     I turned my back on her.

     “And as for you, Francie," Pauline went on,  "you do talk too much, and you don’t think about how it comes out.” She pulled Peggy up and hugged her. “Give us a chance, Peggy. We’re all your friends, and we’ll try to make you have a nice time until your mother gets well, and you can go home.”

     “Crybaby!” I said. The next thing I knew, they’d all walked away and left me standing there alone.

  

     The next morning, I woke to the sound of someone scratching on my window screen. It was Francie. “You’d better get away from here!” I hissed at her as I scrambled to find my brace. “If my parents catch you, all hell will break loose!”

     She grinned. “I was hiding in the azaleas at the end of the drive and saw them go off in the car. Hurry up and get dressed so we can go get our uniforms.”

     I unlatched the screen and pushed it open. “Get in here! Grover’s still around somewhere, and Mrs. Flowers.”

     “Oh, pooh on them!”

     “Where’s the krolik?”

     “Still hiding in the bushes. She was too scared to come up here.”

     “She’s smarter than you are then. Besides, I can’t walk to school.”

     She frowned. “I didn’t think about that.”

     “You wouldn’t.” There was a knock on my bedroom door. “Quick! Get in the closet!”

     Mrs. Flowers came in with a tray. “I thought you might like your breakfast in your room this morning, Marian.”

     “Thank you, Mrs. Flowers.”

     “Your parents went to San Angelo and said they’d be staying overnight. Do you have plans for today?”

     “Well, I. . .I’m supposed to pick up my pep squad uniform at the school at nine-thirty.”

     “I’ll tell Grover.”

     “I might be awhile.”

     “I’m sure he won’t mind waiting.” She glanced at the unlocked screen. “Would your friend in the closet like some breakfast, too?”

     Francie exploded with laughter and put her head out. “Yes, ma’am, and the one in the azalea bushes would, too.”

     “You’re going to get me in big trouble one of these days!” I yelled at Francie as the crawled out the window again to get Peggy.

     She yelled something back in Polish and kept going.

     Grover drove all three of us to school. “Would you like me to wait, Miss?” he asked as he opened the door for us.

     When I hesitated, Francie said, “Well, I would. This sure beats walking.”

     Grover grinned.

       I glared at Francie and said, “I guess. . .if you wouldn’t mind. . .I don’t know how long we’ll be.”

     “Take your time, Miss,” he said.

     Pauline met us just inside the door. “I’m glad you came, Peggy,” she said. “I was hoping you would.”

     I wanted to shake Peggy when she ducked her head and mumbled something no one understood.

     “Hello, Marian.”

     “Hello, Pauline.”

     “A.L. and I weren’t sure you were coming.”

     I shrugged.

     “Well, now that you’re here, I’ll go ahead and tell you that we were talking yesterday. We were thinking you’re going to have a hard time getting up and down in the stands, not to mention running out on the field, so. . .”

     “So, you don’t want me in the pep squad.” I turned around and headed for the door.

     “Now wait a minute, Marian. Nobody said that.”

     “You didn’t have to!” I kept going until Francie grabbed my arm and nearly made me lose my balance.

     Pauline took my other arm. “Marian, just for once get the chip off your shoulder and listen. Anna Lee and I thought about a couple of things, and then we talked to Mr. Nunn, and he had an even better suggestion. There’s an old school bell down in the basement, and he said the boys could build a wagon with a seat for you. You’d be our mascot and ring the bell every time somebody scores.”

     I felt a little ashamed of what I’d said. “Mascot?”

     Anna Lee stalked up. “A bobcat, you ninny! You haven’t seen the stuffed one in the glass case in the front hall?”

    “I’m not surprised. You can’t see anything walking around with your nose up in the air.”

     “I swear, Anna Lee, don’t make things worse!” Pauline snapped.

     Anna Lee leaned into my face. “Milt and Kip are hauling that bell up as we speak, and Tank’s daddy’s sending in some lumber and a couple of old wagon wheels, so if you don’t want to do this, say so now. But you fall and break your neck in those stands, and it’ll be your own fault!”

     “I want to,” I said.

     Peggy clutching her stomach. “Please don’t fight,” she begged.

     Anna Lee turned on her. “Good lord, I forgot about you! There’s not a uniform in the bunch small enough to fit you.”

     All of a sudden I felt sorry for Peggy. “Leave her alone,” I said. “I’ll make a uniform fit her. And I’ll make myself a costume, too. I’ll be the snazziest bobcat around, you’ll see.”

     Grover drove us home, stopping at the dry goods store on the way so I could buy some material for my costume. Then he brought up the sewing machine from the basement and put it by the windows. I mended the ratty skirts and sweaters and took in Peggy’s skirt enough to stay up. Mrs. Flowers brought in sandwiches and lemonade and later some cookies and frozen custard.

     “Why don’t you spend the night at my place since your parents aren’t coming home?” Francie asked as she folded her uniform.

     “I don’t want to get Mrs. Flowers and Grover in trouble. Besides, I keep telling you I can’t walk that far.”

     “You can get to the end of the driveway. Peggy and I’ll meet you there.”

     “Francie, I can’t walk to your place. That’s all the way downtown.” I happened to glance over at Peggy who for once didn’t have her head down, and the sympathetic look in her eyes made me mad again. “And I don’t need you feeling sorry for me!”

     “You sure don’t,” Francie said right back. “You feel sorry enough for yourself. Come on, krolik.”

     Peggy didn’t move. “I saw an old wheelchair in the closet under the stairs at Aunt Min’s. I was putting some boxes away, and there it was.”

     Francie’s eyes got big. “That was her husband’s. He got hurt out at the plant, and Doc cut off both his legs, and then one day he rolled down the stairs in that chair and. . .”

     Peggy clutched her stomach and retched.

     “Did he do it on purpose, or did someone push him?” I asked.

     Francie narrowed her eyes. “Well, some say he did it to himself, but some people say that she pushed him.”

     Peggy looked sicker. “That’s awful!”

     “No, it’s not,” Francie said. “And you’re a genius, krolik. We’ll push that chair over here and hide it in the azaleas, and after dark, we’ll sneak up here and get Marian and push her over to my place.”

     “What if her parents find out?” Peggy asked.

     “They won’t,” I said, a wicked excitement replacing common sense. “It’ll be late when they get back, and they’ll go straight upstairs. They never come in here anyway.”

     “Eight-thirty then,” Francie said as she gathered up her uniform. “It’ll be good and dark by then. Come on, krolik. We’ve got to go steal a wheelchair.”

     I thought maybe every tooth in my head was loose by the time we got to the laundry. Francie threatened to dump me out every time I told her she was shaking me to pieces, and Peggy just trailed along behind looking scared. But when I sat looking up at the wooden steps leading to Francie’s apartment above the laundry, I knew the worst was still ahead.

     Somehow, with Francie pulling and Peggy pushing, I got to the top. Inside, Francie introduced me to her mother who looked more like her sister, with the same black curly hair and black eyes. She spoke to me in Polish, and Francie translated. “She says you’re welcome    here.”

     “Thank you,” I said politely. Mother always said the mark of a lady was knowing quality when she saw it, and I saw it in Mrs. Walinsky.  She was poor and Jewish and washed people’s clothes for a living, not to mention cleaning my father’s bank, but there was something in the way she put her hands on my shoulders and looked straight into my face and smiled. . .something about the way that she didn’t seem embarrassed to have Francie translate for her. . .that made me know she was better than my mother. . .and better than I was, too.

     Francie’s room was bare except for a double bed, a long bureau with a mirror that needed silvering, and a few rag rugs scattered on the floor. But there was a crazy quilt on the bed and starched white curtains on the windows, and Francie didn't seem to even remember my expensive furniture, carpet, and drapes.

     When we changed into our nightgowns, Peggy hid behind the closet door. “How’d you get that bruise on your shoulder?” Francie asked, shoving the door aside.

     “Hit it on a cabinet,” Peggy mumbled and pulled her gown over her head.

     Francie looked over at me and raised her eyebrows. “Uh-huh,” she said.

     “I did,” Peggy said. “Yesterday morning while I was serving breakfast.”

     “Is that what you do over there?” I asked.

     She nodded. “And clean up the kitchen after supper. But everybody goes home on weekends or has to eat their meals out. Aunt Min doesn’t cook again until Monday morning.”

     I looked at Peggy’s tiny little hands and thought about her washing millions of plates and pots and pans. I’d never even washed a cup.

     Francie began to brush Peggy’s hair. “You’ve got nice thick hair, but it’s sure straight,” she said.

     “Mamma used to put it up in rags, but I can’t make it do right.”

     Francie began to braid it. “There now, you can see your face.”

     Peggy had what my aunt called delicate features, but her eyes were green and fringed with thick, dark lashes. “You’ve got beautiful eyes,” I said. “But no one can see them because you go around with your head down all the time.”

     She grabbed the brush out of Francie’s hands and shook her hair loose.  Francie shrugged and went to work on her own hair which seemed to be everywhere except in place.

     Mrs. Walinsky brought us some cookies on a chipped plate, and I ate four of them while Peggy was still nibbling on her first one. “You eat like a rabbit, too,” I said.

     Her face flamed as she jumped up. “You don’t like the way I hold my head, and my hair isn’t right, and I can’t have any privacy undressing, and. . .and. . .and you don’t even like the way I eat! I’m leaving!”

     “Marian was just joking,” Francie said, glaring at me. “Weren’t you?”

     “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” I said grudgingly. I really hadn’t meant to, but I didn’t like saying so. “Come on, krolik, don’t get your feelings hurt about everything.”

     Peggy burst out crying. “I hate it here! I want to go home! I want my mamma!”

     Francie pulled her down on the bed again. “We’re sorry, Peggy, really. Please stay.”

     Peggy hiccupped. “I guess I’ll have to. It’s too dark to go back to the boarding house now anyway.”

     Francie rubbed her shoulders. “Listen, we’re going to have to be nice to each other and take care of each other, you know? We’re going to be best friends forever.”

     I took off my brace and dropped it over the side of the bed. “For tonight anyway,” I said. “And don’t forget you promised to get me home before breakfast tomorrow.”

     Mrs. Walinsky came in and said something to Francie. “We have to turn out the light now,” she translated.

     Mrs. Walinsky turned back the quilt. The sheets were crisp and smelled like fresh rain. “Time for sleep,” she said with an accent so thick I could barely understand her.

     “I’m not sleeping in the middle,” Peggy said. “You’ll squash me.”

     “Come on over here then,” I said, patting the bed behind me.

     Mrs. Walinsky pulled up the sheet and quilt and kissed each one of us in turn. “Sleep good,” she said. “Dream nice.”

I’d never been tucked in before, at least that I could remember, much less kissed goodnight. Behind me, Peggy drew her bony knees up against the small of my back that always ached, and the warm pressure felt good. I heard the soft click of the door closing and hoped morning would be a long time coming.

Chapter Two

     We had history with Coach Mack after lunch and then gym. Francie found a wooden crate full of basketballs for me to sit on. The rest of the girls stared at me when I fell back on it after unlatching my brace. I stared back but thought better about sticking out my tongue at the whole lot of them. But by the time Miss Browning checked roll, I was good and mad. “I can take care of the equipment and keep score,” I said, although I didn’t have a clue about any of the games or rules, “because I’m not taking study hall!”

     There was a collective breath-catching, but Miss Browning smiled. “I thought I had an extra in here. What’s your name?” I told her, and she wrote it down, then put away her clipboard. “You’re all going to need gym clothes, but I know money’s tight these days, so Mr. Nunn got the dry goods store to donate some material, and we’re all going to spend the first week in the domestic science room.

     Everyone groaned in unison.

     “Now, I’m sure some of you girls must know how to sew a little.”

     “When it rains pigs in the pond,” muttered the girl next to me.

     “That’s one of the Hardegree twins,” Francie whispered. “I can’t ever tell which one’s which when they’re together. They can ride and rope as good any boy, but I bet the two of them together can’t thread a needle.”

     My hand shot up. “I can sew. I’ll make all the suits.”

     The Hardegree next to me clapped my shoulder. “The pig in the pond!”

     I scowled at her. “I’m not a pig, thank you.”

     “Oh, don’t get your drawers in a wad. You just became more valuable around here than a good cow pony.”

     Peggy, crouched on the other side of Francie, giggled annoyingly. “Well, if I don’t sew those da. . .those suits for you, I guess you’ll all have to go naked like pigs and ponies!” I leaned around Francie and glared at Peggy. “And that goes for you, too, Miss Giggles.” Her face froze.

     Miss Browning shook her head at me. “That’s quite enough, Marian.” “I believe the girls accept and appreciate your offer.”

     Peggy hung back as we started for English later. “Come on, krolik,” Francie said. “It’s okay.”

     Peggy shuffled up with us, looking so unhappy I felt a little guilty for snapping at her, but I wasn’t about to apologize.  Instead I asked,        “What’s a  krolik?”

     “A rabbit. Peggy’s timid like a rabbit.” Francie slipped her arm around Peggy’s thin shoulders. “But this is only her first day in high school, and she’s got two best friends already.”

     Peggy cut her eyes over at me like she considered me more of an archenemy. “A rabbit’s better than a pig in a pond or a good cow pony,” I said.

     Peggy’s mouth twitched, and she giggled just a little. I took her arm, and Francie moved to my other side. “Come on,” Francie said. “If we’re late to English, Miss Brewer’ll give us a five hundred word essay for tomorrow. I’ve heard she has stacks of them in her closet.”

     “It would be more interesting if she had piles of the bones of students who died trying to explain why they were late,” I said.

     Peggy jumped. “That’s awful!”

     I squeezed her arm. “True, krolik, but a helluva lot more fun. . .don’t you think?"

     As soon as the last bell rang, I twisted around in the wooden desk and pressed my hand against the small of my back to ease the nagging ache. Peggy, her head down as usual, sat very still.

     Miss Brewer looked at us over the tops of her skinny little glasses. “We’ll discuss the first four chapters of The House of the Seven Gables tomorrow. Read them, because I’ll know if you didn’t. Make some notes. Any questions?” The room was silent. “All right, you’re dismissed.”

     Francie turned to look at me. “The pep squad’s meeting this afternoon. We can sit in the stands and watch the boys go through their drills.”

     “I can’t stay.”

     “Why not?”

     “I just can’t.”

     “You can stay, can’t you, Peggy?” Francie leaned across the aisle and touched Peggy’s arm. She startled. “You can stay for pep squad.”

     “I have to clean up the kitchen after supper.”

     “That’s hours yet.” Francie turned back to me. “Tank has football practice, too. He’ll take you home.”

     I struggled to my feet. “I told you I can’t stay. Someone’s waiting for me.”

     “Who?” Francie got up, too.

     “Probably Grover.”

     “The Negro who drives your mother around town?”

     “He’s our chauffeur.” He was also our gardener. I’d gotten to know him in the two weeks we’d been home, and he’d been so kind to me that it made me feel oddly safe, something I didn’t feel most of the time.

     “Well, tell him to go home. Tell him Tank’ll drive you later.”

     I began to put my books and supplies into the leather briefcase on the floor by my feet. “It won’t do any good, but I’ll talk to him just to satisfy you.”

     Francie looked down at Peggy, who was still sitting at her desk. “Hey, krolik.”

     Peggy sighed and rose slowly, hugging her bookbag. “Aunt Min’ll be real mad at me if I’m late,” she said in a voice as tiny as she was.

     “You’ll be there by five, I guarantee it. Come on. Let’s go see if we can shake Marian loose from her show-fury.”

      I slammed the briefcase shut and latched it. “Listen, Miss Bossy Boots. . .”

     Francie laughed and shook her black curls. “Oh, come on!”

     The tall, handsome black man standing beside the maroon sedan parked at the curb removed his cap as soon as he saw me. “Good afternoon, Miss.” His gentle manner always reminded me of Edward.

     “Do you think I could stay?” I wanted to stay, even if I didn’t want Francie to know it. “There’s some sort of meeting, and someone can drive me home afterwards. Probably Kip.”

     Grover seemed to be thinking. “All right, Miss,” he said after a moment. “Your mother’s still. . . indisposed. But your father will expect you for supper at six.”

     “I’ll be there, I promise.” I tried not to smile.

     “Would you like for me to take your briefcase?”

     “Yes, please. And Grover, could you tell Mrs. Flowers that I’ll need a lunch tomorrow? Please?”

     “I’ll be sure to tell her.” He put the briefcase into the backseat. “If Mr. Kip can’t bring you home. . .”

     “I’m sure he can.”

     “All right, Miss.” Grover put on his cap and got into the car. He touched the brim of his cap and drove away.

     “I’ve never been to a football game,” I said as we skirted the west end of the building and picked our way across a rutted dirt road to the football field that wasn’t much more than dirt itself.

     “I’m a pep leader,” Francie said, a touch of importance mingling with her slight accent. “There’s two from each class, but the other freshman leader moved away last week, so we need a new one. Pauline said Anna Lee said that it had to be somebody little and quiet who’ll do what she says. Anna Lee’s such a grouch!”

     “That lets you out,” I said. “You’re little enough, I guess, but you’re sure not quiet.”

     “Huh! I don’t want to get on her shoulders anyway. She’d dump me first thing. But the krolik here. . .” Francie stopped and waved at another girl. “Hey, Pauline, here’s two more for the pep squad!”

     “Is she the Pauline that my cousin Kip runs around with?” I asked.

     “Pauline Seeley, that’s right.”

     We’d caught up with her now, a short, round-faced girl in a faded print skirt. Her brown eyes, exactly matching her hair, sparkled.              “Hello, Marian. Kip said you were coming here to school this year. I hope you’ll like it.”

      I’d heard my aunt say that Pauline Seeley wasn’t our kind. I lifted my chin. Recognizing the snub, Pauline turned to Peggy. “I saw you before school this morning and thought you were lost and should be over at the grammar school.”

     “This is Peggy Bailey,” Francie said, emphasizing the last name. “She’s staying with her aunt at the boarding house.”

     Pauline patted a hunched shoulder. “Well, welcome to Danford, Peggy.”

     “I thought maybe she’d suit Anna Lee for the other freshman leader.”

     “She just might at that. Here comes Anna Lee now.” The girl I’d met in the morning strode up tossing her head so her blonde hair swung around her face. “Peggy, this is Anna Lee Taylor, our resident Jean Harlow.”

     “Oh, shut up,” Anna Lee growled.

     “What do you think, A.L.? Don’t you think Peggy’s small enough to take Carrie Carson’s place?”

     Anna Lee looked Peggy over. “Maybe.” She squatted down. “Get up on my shoulders.”

      When Peggy didn’t move, she said, “Come on, come on. You look little enough to drown in a dipper, but I want to see.”

     Francie took Peggy’s knapsack. “Go on, krolik.”

     Peggy put one foot on Anna Lee’s shoulder. “Now the other one. Give me your hands.”

     Peggy did as she was told, and her face went white with terror as the older girl stood up without warning. Seconds later she was on the ground again, stumbling about dizzily. “She’ll do,” Anna Lee said and walked away.

     “Don’t let her bother you,” Pauline said, rubbing Peggy’s trembling hands between hers like they were ice cold. “She’s really nice once your get to know her, and she’d give you her last nickel if she thought you needed it more. So what do you think, little one? Would you like to be the other freshman leader with Francie?”

     Peggy looked around as if contemplating flight. “I. . .I. . .”

     “Sure, she would,” Francie answered for her. When Pauline had gone, she said, “Pauline’s father had to go to Houston to find work last year, and she and her mother are having a hard time of it right now. And Anna Lee’s mother dumped her on her grandmother four or five years back and went off with some man. Anna Lee was terrible then, always picking fights and getting sent to Mr. Nunn. Then one day Milt Friedman pulled her off his brother Harry and took her for a long walk around the football field, and after that, she got better.”

     “Pulled her off a boy?” It sounded unreal to me.

     Francie chuckled. “Harry was getting the worst of it, too, let me tell you! But now the whole family’s sort of adopted Anna Lee, even if she’s not a Jew, and. . .” She broke off as Anna Lee motioned us toward the stands.

     There was no formal pep squad practice that afternoon, so after Anna Lee announced the uniforms would be handed out on Saturday, we sat in the stands and watched the boys practice. “The boys don’t have numbers on their practice jerseys,” Francie explained to Peggy and me. I was still smarting from the indignity of being hauled bodily into the stands by Francie and the Hardegree twins. “But that big one on the right end is Neal Tankersley. Everybody calls him Tank.”

     “So that’s the boyfriend?” I asked.

     Francie showed her dimples. “That’s him. The tall one in the middle is Vic Gianchinni, and Bix Matthews is out there somewhere. They’re all best friends, just like the three of us are going to be.”

     “Matthews,” I said. “Isn’t he the boy whose father. . .”

     Francie ignored me. “They’ll all be starting this year. We’re supposed to have a good chance of going to the playoffs.”

     “I heard he. . .”

     Francie pursed her lips. “We don’t talk about that around here.”

     I made a mental note to find out someone who would talk to me about it.

     At exactly five o’clock, Coach Mack sent the boys to the showers. Kip came out first and went immediately to where Pauline was sitting with the upperclassmen. “I see my cousin over there, so I probably need to drop her before I take you home.”

     “I’m going with Anna Lee and Milt,” I heard Pauline say. “I’ve got to get something at her house.”

     Kip frowned. “I can take you. . .”

     “You can come over and study geometry with me tonight.”

     Kip shrugged and walked to where the freshmen were sitting. “Can you get down from there?” he asked me.

     “It took three people to get me up here, and they damn near took my arms out of their sockets doing it, too!” I glared at the Hardegrees, who were standing behind me ready to do it again, but their faces had gone suddenly solemn, I guessed because of my language. 

     Kip put his hands around my waist and swung me down without effort. “How’d you manage to stay, anyway?”

     “I just told Grover I was staying.” I straightened my dress. 

     The boy with the big belt buckle and another lanky boy joined us. “You looked real good out there!” Francie said.

     Tank stopped in front of the stands and looked up. “Who’s this?” he asked, smiling at Peggy who still sat hunched on one of the bleacher seats.

     “Peggy Bailey. She’s going to take Carrie’s place as freshman leader.”

      “Anna Lee eats freshmen for breakfast,” he said and winked.

     I almost laughed at how Peggy’s eyes widened like saucers.

     “Oh, hush up!” Francie said, scrambling down to stand beside him. 

     Something about the other boy made me look twice. He was taller than Tank but not quite as big. His black hair, still wet and slicked back, and the fact that he wasn’t smiling made him look older, too.

     “This is Vic Gianchinni,” Tank said. “He doesn’t eat little freshman pep leaders. He doesn’t talk much either, but he’s okay.”

     “Nobody has a chance to talk with you and Francie around,” the boy said out of the corner of his mouth. He looked up at Peggy. “Hey, Peggy.” She ducked her head.

     Finally, the handsome blue-eyed, blonde boy I’d seen looking at me earlier joined us. He nodded at me. “Hello. I’m Bix Matthews.”

     I lifted my chin a little. “Marian Kroll.”

     “And this is Peggy Bailey,” Francie chimed in.

     The way Bix glanced at her and back at me seemed to say she wasn’t worth noticing. “She’s new this year,” I said pointedly.

     He flushed, then nodded. “Hi,” he said.

     I was surprised when Vic stepped closer and held out his hand to the mousey little krolik and even more so when she took it. He helped her down. “You live at the boarding house,” he said. Word had gotten around already, it seemed. “I go right past there. I’ll walk you home.” He took her bookbag and slung it over his shoulder. 

     Kip took my arm, but I shook him off. “I better get you home before Uncle Dan tears up the town looking for you,” he said.

     “Somebody’s going to tear him up someday,” I muttered and started off with a painful limp. If I could have run like Francie, I would have.

     Mother didn’t come to supper, and Father read the paper and didn’t talk to me. Afterwards, I went into the kitchen and told Mrs. Flowers about my day. “Did Grover tell you I need a lunch tomorrow?”

     “It’s already packed. But I don’t know about staying after school tomorrow. Have you asked your father?”

     “I’ll ask him now. I don’t want Grover to get into trouble.”

     “I expect that would be the thing to do.” 

     Father was in his study and didn’t look up as I came in. “I’d like permission to stay after school tomorrow for pep squad practice,” I said.

     “For what?”

     “Pep squad practice. All the girls are in it.”

     “Do as you please.”

     “Thank you.” I went back to the kitchen. “It’s all right,” I said. “So, you can tell Grover not to come for me until five o’clock.”

     “What about Kip?”

     “He takes a girl home.”

     “Oh, yes. Pauline Seeley. Did you meet her today?”

     “Briefly.”

     “She’s a nice girl.”

      “Aunt Lucille says. . .”

     “She’s a nice girl,” Mrs. Flowers interrupted me. “Do you have lessons tonight?”

     “Four chapters of a book I read last year at Hockaday. I know it by heart.”

     “Would you like a warm bath then? You’ve done a lot of walking today. It might relax you.”

     “That sounds nice, thank you.”

     “I’ll be in to run it for you in a few minutes then.”

       Despite the warm bath and the cocoa Mrs. Flowers brought me when I was in bed, I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours. My back hurt, and I kept thinking about all the people I’d met today, especially Bix Matthews. 

     The alarm clock beside my bed said twelve-thirty when I woke with a grinding cramp. Mrs. Flowers heard me crying and came in and rubbed it out for me. “I’m sorry I woke you up,” I said when I could talk. 

     “It’s all right.”

     “I got a cramp at school today. One of the girls took care of it.”

     “That’s nice.”

     “Do you know a boy named Bix Matthews, Mrs. Flowers?”

     “Yes.”

     “Is he a nice boy?”

     “Yes.”

     “His father. . .”

     “That’s not anything we should talk about,” she said, getting up quickly. “It’s late now. Go back to sleep.”

     “Goodnight. And thank you again.”

    “Goodnight, dear.”

     I listened to her footsteps disappear down the hall and thought about how I needed to stay on her good side. Grover’s, too. They might be servants, but I liked them better than I did my parents. I thought maybe they didn’t like my parents much either, but jobs were hard to find these days. I turned over and closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, daylight was filtering through the drapes.

 Chapter 1 

     It was hot, already pushing ninety degrees that September morning in 1932, when my father quite literally put me out on the street in front of the high school.  It was just as well we were late so no one was outside to see me stumble from the sleek new Packard wearing the simplest of six dresses my mother had bought at Nieman-Marcus before we left Dallas.

     I barely had time to latch my brace and get my balance before my father drove away in a cloud of dust which settled on the leather of my shiny new briefcase and ugly oxfords. As I eased myself over the curb, I was especially conscious of the built-up heel on the left shoe and that my dress, though longer than fashionable, didn’t completely hide my left leg which was skinnier and an inch shorter than the right one. I hated the brace and the shoes and people who stared at them, and sometimes I even hated myself.

     Though I wouldn’t have admitted it, I’d looked forward to this day ever since my mother told me we were moving back to Danford where I’d gone to grammar school though second grade. Then I got polio, and Mother took me Holly Hill, her parents’ home near Richmond, Virginia, to recuperate. We stayed there all the next school year while I learned to walk and to use my hands again. Grandmother Fancher tutored me so I wouldn’t fall behind.

     When it was time for school to start again, Mother took an apartment in Dallas and enrolled me as a day student at Hockaday. This past June, while we were in Richmond for my brother’s graduation from military school, Mother told me we’d be going back to Danford. I didn’t have to ask why, and anyway, she wouldn’t have admitted there wasn’t enough money to send Edward to Harvard and keep me in an expensive private school.

     “I’m very sorry about your school, Sister,” Edward told me the morning before we left as we sat in Grandmother’s garden sipping lemonade.

     “I don’t care, but I wish you could. .  .”

     “I can’t, so there’s no use discussing it.”

     I was probably the only one who knew how much Edward had wanted to graduate from high school in Danford and go on to the University of Texas with his best friend Harry Friedman. I adored him and wanted him to have everything. Unfortunately, he only got everything Father wanted, and Father wanted him to go to Harvard.

     So here I was now, alone on the cracked sidewalk leading to a shabby L-shaped red brick building, and it looked like a hundred concrete steps leading up to the porch. “Sweet Jesus!” I said aloud. “How in hell am I going to. . .” A quick, guilty look around the yard proved it was indeed empty. “Hell and damn!”

     Perspiration trickled from my forehead and burned my eyes as I hauled myself up, step by painful step, scraping my shoulder against the rough brick wall I had to hug to keep my balance because there wasn’t a rail. I felt wet and sticky and thoroughly disgusted when I finally faced the closed doors that probably weighed two tons.

     I’d just reached for one of them when it flew open, knocking me backwards. Two large hands grabbed me just before I went down. “Holy hell! Don’t run me over, you idiot!”

     I heard a familiar laugh. “The late Miss Kroll, as I live and breathe. I was coming to look for you.”

     “Kip Kelly, my esteemed cousin, as I live and breathe. You were supposed to wait for me.”

     “I decided you weren’t coming.”

     “Father wasn’t in any hurry, and Mother had another sick headache.”

     “Well, come on.” He held the door open and motioned me inside. “Miss Brewer’s about finished handing out schedules, so she’ll have time to change yours if you don’t already have a study hall instead of gym.”

     “Mind your own damned business!” I jerked away from him.

     His eyebrows all but disappeared into his auburn hair which matched mine. “Listen, Marian, you better watch your mouth around here. Mr. Nunn’s warmed a lot of britches for less.”

     “He wouldn’t dare touch me!”

     “Don’t count on it, kiddo. Your daddy’s bank doesn’t hold a mortgage on his house.”

     I shrugged. “I don’t care.”    

     “I’ll walk you down to the office before I go to senior assembly. You’ll like it here, Marian, but I’m serious about your mouth.”

     I shrugged again. “So I won’t tell anybody we’re related.”

 

     Standing in line to get my schedule, I tried to put names with the faces around me. Kip appeared again with another boy and a girl. “This is Milt Friedman,” he said. “Edward was in his brother Harry’s class before he went off to school.”

     “Harry’s at the University this year,” Milt said. “Is Edward. . .”

     “No, he’s not.” I looked away.

     “And this is Anna Lee Taylor, Marian. She came after you left.”

     I glanced at Anna Lee. She was as tall as I was and wore her blonde hair loose down her back and falling over one eye. She tossed it back before she spoke. “Welcome to Danford High. If you’re interested in being in the pep squad, there’s a meeting after school today.”

     “I don’t think so.”

     Just then I caught sight of a mop of black curls headed our way at a run. “Hold on there, pigeon,” Milt said, reaching out to stop the girl, which he did, but not before she ran into Anna Lee.

     “Ow!” Anna Lee howled. “Francie Walinsky, I might’ve known.”

     Two big black eyes looked out from under the fly-away hair, and a deep dimple showed in each olive-skinned cheek. “Hey, Milt.”

     “Miss Brewer’s not going to give your schedule away to anyone else,” he said, patting one of the dimples.

     Anna Lee balanced against his arm and inspected her left heel. “I swear, this girl does everything twice as fast as it needs doing.” She put her foot down again and scowled at Francie.

     “Sorry, Anna Lee,” Francie said, not sounding a bit sorry about anything. “Matka said we could come to supper tonight, Milt, and to tell your mother thank you very much.”          

     Anna Lee rolled her eyes. “Oy!”

     Francie rolled her eyes right back and said something in what sounded like a foreign language. Milt frowned a little, and Francie took off again down the hall.

     “We’ve got to go,” Kip said. “But I’ll be around if you need anything.”

     “I won’t.”

     He shook his head and walked off with the other two, and about that time, I felt someone staring holes through me from behind. He was the handsomest boy I’d ever seen, except for Edward, with hair so blonde it was almost white and eyes the color of a mid-day sky. The line moved up just then, and when I moved up with it, my left shoulder dipped. He looked down at my brace and then away. You can go straight to hell, I thought, lifting my chin the way I’d seen my mother do when she didn’t want to seem to notice someone.

     The older woman who handed me my schedule seemed to know me. “You’ll have a study hall fifth hour instead of gym,” she said. “It will be in the library.”

     “I’ll go to gym, thank you,” I said, and walked off before she could say anything. I was standing in the middle of the hall trying to figure out which way to go next when the curly black mop appeared out of nowhere.

      “All the freshies have math first hour,” she said. “Down this way.” Way came out vay. “You don’t remember me, I bet,” she said as we walked down the hall. “We used to play hopscotch at recess, and you always beat me. It wasn’t fair, though. Your legs were just longer.”

     I looked down at her. “They still are.”

     She laughed. “Uh-huh.”

     I took a seat in the back where I could look at people without them looking back at me, and counted sixteen other students, nine girls and eight boys, all wearing clothes that sure hadn’t come from Nieman-Marcus or even from Birnbaum’s on the square.  The girls’ dresses or skirts had no hems left, and some of their shoes, while polished, looked rather run down at the heel.  A couple of the boys had on overalls, and the rest wore khaki pants and faded shirts, except for one boy, the biggest, who wore denim jeans and boots and a wide leather belt with a square buckle.       

     From the way the other girls clustered around The Mop, I could tell she was popular with them. But the way she promptly forgot about me, not even bothering to introduce me to anyone, added to my disgust with her. Then halfway through math, another girl slunk in and huddled in by the door until Mr. Barrow called her up to his desk. Her drab brown dress didn’t touch her skinny little body, and she hugged a canvas knapsack to her flat chest like it was her last defense against the world. She kept her head down, so her face was hidden by the limp, mousy-brown hair barely brushing her shoulders.

     When the bell finally rang for lunch, The Mop appeared at my elbow. “What’re you doing for lunch?”

     It struck me then I didn’t know. We’d been served lunch in the dining room at Hockaday, but this place didn’t look like it had one.       “What does one do around here?” I asked.

     “One brings one’s lunch in a paper bag,” she said, holding hers up in front of my face. “If you’ve got some money, we can walk over to Baker’s grocery and get you something.”

     “All right.” But once we were outside the door, when she pointed to the store across the tracks, I knew I’d never make it. She seemed to realize that as soon as I did.

     “Give me the money,” she said, holding out her hand, “and tell me what you want.”

     I handed her a dollar bill. “I don’t care. Some fruit maybe.” I watched her pick up speed at the bottom of the steps. “So you can run, Miss Priss,” I said as I unlatched my brace and sat down on the porch wall to wait. “Bully for you!”

     When I saw her coming back, I managed to get myself down the steps to meet her. “Here’s your change, and here’s your lunch,” she said. “We’ll go around front where it’s shady.”

     I noticed she slowed down as we walked together. “Look, there’s that new girl all by herself.” She gave me a little push in that direction. “Come on.”

     She let me have the other place on the bench under the tree and flopped down in the grass beside it. Just as I released my brace, a muscle cramp seized my calf and made me gasp with pain. She was up again in a second. “What?”

     “Cramp,” I said, trying not to cry. “Damn, damn, damn!”

     She pushed my dress up and my hands aside and had the whole brace off before I knew what was happening. I gritted my teeth until my jaws hurt, but I still cried as she put both hands around my leg and began to massage it. It took awhile for the cramp to go away. When it did, she smoothed my dress over my knees and sat back on her heels with a smug look on her face. “You get a lot of those?”

     Fully aware of the other girl staring at me, I turned around and stuck out my tongue at her. She ducked her head. Francie rolled her eyes and settled herself back in the grass. “Hi,” she said to the girl. “I’m Francie Walinsky, and this is Marian Kroll. Welcome to Danford High.”

     The girl’s head came up slightly. “Francie Wa-what?”

     “Walinsky. It’s Polish. Actually, my name’s Francziska, but nobody can say it right, and they sure can’t spell it! What’s yours?”

     “Peggy. Peggy Bailey.”

    “Like in Min Bailey at the boarding house?” Something in the way Francie said boarding house caught my attention.

     “My aunt.”

     Francie glanced at me and pursed her lips. “You live there?”

     “Until my mother gets well. She’s in the hospital over at Carlsbad.”

     “She’s got TB?”

     “Yes, but I don’t.” Peggy hunched her shoulders.

     “Marian’s sort of new here, too,” Francie said as she unwrapped a fat sausage looking a lot better than the bologna on a dry roll I’d just pulled out of my bag. She saw me looking at it. “Chicken,” she said. “Kosher.”

     “What?”

     She laughed. “I just thought maybe you were wondering why a Jew had pork sausage.”

     “Jew?”

     She laughed again. “I’m Jewish, goose. You know. . .one of those!”

     I took a bite out of my sandwich. It was worse than it looked.

     “Anyway,” Francie went on, “Marian and I went to school together for two years, and then she had polio. A lot of kids had it that summer. Milt Friedman’s little sister Rachel died with it.”

     I stopped chewing. “I didn’t know that.”

     Francie nodded. “It was real sad. She was just a little thing. You’re lucky you only have to wear that brace.”

     My face got hot. “You wouldn’t think so if you had to wear it!”

     “I probably wouldn’t,” she said so agreeably that I wanted to smack her. “Where are you from, Peggy?”

     “Lubbock.”

     “Marian’s been going to school in. . .where was it?”

     “Dallas.”

     “Oh,” Peggy said.

     “She lives over in that big house behind the park,” Francie went on, “and I live over Goldman’s Laundry on the square. Matka—my mother—works there during the week and cleans the bank and Birnbaum’s Department Store on weekends. Sundays, not Saturdays. Saturday’s our Sabbath.” She licked the remains of the sausage from her fingers. “I help her. Boy, do I hate those stairs at the bank!”

     The thought of Francie scrubbing the stairs leading to my father’s office on the second flood was humiliating, but I guess she didn’t realize that.

     Later, when Peggy excused herself, Francie leaned toward me. “Poor kid! Min Bailey drinks like a fish, and she’s mean as the devil even when she’s not soused. Matka used to clean for her, but she quit because Min was always yelling and cussing. Matka understands a whole lot more English than people think.” Francie looked around and lowered her voice. “And I heard that Min Bailey used to be one of those women at the Spur.”

     “One of those women?”

     “You know.”

     It struck me suddenly what she meant. “Oh, a whore!”

     “Shh! All I said once was a lady of the evening, and Tank nearly died!”

     “The Spur was a cathouse once? Who’s Tank?”

     “Years ago. Dutch says there were six saloons on the square. Tank’s my boyfriend, and Dutch is his daddy.”

     “How’d he know? Did he visit them?”

     “No, he didn’t visit them! Dutch Tankersley wouldn’t touch a drop of anything!” She sat up straight and glared at me.

     I laughed. “Okay, okay.”

     Francie got up, shaking her skirt and brushing crumbs from her blouse. “I’ll help you put this back on,” she said, picking up my brace and inspecting it curiously. “It sure is heavy.”

     “You don’t have to wear it!”

     She squatted down and slid the oxford over my foot and the brace around my leg. “You just tell me whenever you get a cramp, and I’ll take care of it.”

     “Why would you want to?” I finished buckling the brace myself, but I had to let her tie my shoe.

     “Why not? And don’t say those words anymore. If Mr. Nunn doesn’t lick you, you’ll get detention anyway.” She moved to the bench beside me. “That school in Dallas. . .it’s for rich kids, isn’t it?”

     “It’s a girls’ school.”

     “Did you like it?”

     “I hated it!”

     “The girls were snobs, huh?”

     I shrugged.

     “But you’re not.” I wasn’t sure if she was asking a question or making a statement, so I let it pass. She leaned down and checked my shoelaces. “Are you okay now? We’ll have to look after Peggy. She’ll have a rotten time of it with old Min.” The bell rang, and she jumped up and held out her hand to me as if it were the most natural thing in the world. We met Peggy coming from the building and linked arms with her. Walking between the two of them, I noticed I didn’t wobble around so much.