Web of Dreams

by V. C. Andrews

  "Right this way," Miss Mallory said, gesturing. "I've asked your roommate, Jennifer Longstone, in remain in your room this morning rather than attend class, just so I could introduce the two of you." She turned to Tony. "Of course, I don't do such a thing with everyone. And, of course," she said turning back to me, "if there is any problem between you and Jennifer, anything at all, don't hesitate to tell me and move you to other living quarters." She smiled again at Tony and led us down the long corridor that connected the administrative offices with the dormitory.

  There were a number of bulletin boards along the way, and although most of them were taken up with club announcements and reminders about tests and such, there were also a number of reminders about dorm regulations prohibiting hoarding of food in rooms and forbidding liquor, including beer and wine. Study hour was from seven to eight and after eight, students could go into the recreation room to watch television or play board and card games until curfew, but any form of gambling was prohibited. None of the students were permitted television sets in their rooms and the loud playing of music was taboo. Of course, smoking was off limits everywhere.

  I saw that every prohibition carried the threat of demerits with it. Miss Mallory observed the way I read the bulletin boards as we passed them.

  "Yes, you see we have very strict rules at Winterhaven," she told me. "We are proud of our girls, proud of their demeanor and their exemplary behavior. Once in a while, we have a problem, but we take care of it quickly. If someone does prove to be incorrigible, the demerit system will terminate her stay here.

  "For obvious reasons," she continued, "we expect you to be prompt for all your classes and do all your assignments on time, as well as be on time for all meals. A table has been assigned to you, and you are not permitted to change your seating unless the occupants at another table invite you to join them. You can, of course, invite someone to join you as well. Each student is expected to wait the tables for one week each semester. We rotate the service, and most students find it not unpleasant.

  "But," she added, stopping at a door, "I'm sure a girl of your class and breeding won't have any difficulty with any of this." She flashed a smile at Tony and opened the door.

  I was surprised at the plainness of the room because I had expected that girls from such rich and well-known families would have luxurious quarters. Also, the room was much smaller than I had anticipated. The floors were polished hardwood with scatter rugs set down beside the simple, light mapleframed single beds. There were two matching dressers side by side at the center, between the beds. In the corners were two desks with lamps and above them and to the side of each were dark pine shelves. There was a bowl-shaped light fixture at the center of the ceiling. The walls were the same off-white with the darkly stained molding found in the lobby of the building. Behind the headboard of each bed were two panel windows, each with a pale yellow shade and thin, eggshell white curtains.

  Jennifer Longstone was seated at her desk in the right-hand corner. She stood up immediately and smiled. She was at least three inches shorter than me, with a round face with big dark eyes and what I thought was beautiful black hair, as black as licorice. I liked her smile and the way her pug nose twitched. She wore a white blouse and a blue skirt with saddle shoes and bobby sox.

  "Jennifer," Miss Mallory said, "this is Leigh VanVoreen and her stepfather, Anthony Tatterton."

  "Pleased to meet you," Jennifer said and extended her hand first to Tony and then to me under Miss Mallory's scrutinizing eyes.

  "Jennifer is in all of your classes," Miss Mallory continued. "1 thought you two would like that. Jennifer will show you around after you settle in and then, you will report to my office to discuss your schedule. Jennifer, you can then resume your own schedule."

  "Yes, Miss Mallory," Jennifer replied, but there was a gleam in her eye when she looked at me. I liked her immediately.

  "Mr, Tatterton," Miss Mallory said. "I hope this meets with your satisfaction."

  "Well, it's really Leigh who has to be satisfied," Tony said, gazing at me with his characteristic smile.

  "I'm all right," I said.

  "Well, then," Miss 'Mallory said. "We'll leave you two to get acquainted. As soon as you've completed your tour, Leigh, please report to me promptly."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "I'll see you on the weekend," Tony said. "Call if you need anything, however, for I am in town every day."

  "Thank you, Tony, and give my love to Troy."

  "I will." He kissed me quickly on the forehead and followed Miss Mallory out. Jennifer didn't move or say a word until the door closed. Then she exploded with an energy that overwhelmed and amused me.

  "Hi. I'm so glad to have a roommate. Your name's Leigh? I'm from Hyannis Port. Have you ever been there? Oh, of course, you must have been there. Or at least have driven through it. Do you want me to help you unpack your things? This is your dresser and closet, but if you need more room, you can use some of my closet. There's room. That was your stepfather? He's so handsome. How old is he'?" She paused to take a breath and I laughed.

  "Oh, I'm talking too much. I'm sorry. You probably have a thousand questions for me. Go ahead, ask away," she said folding her arms and standing back.

  "How long have you been at Winterhaven?"

  "All my life. No, I'm joking. Three years. It's a junior and senior high school, you know. I'm sentenced to spend it all here. Where did you go to school before?"

  "In Boston at a public school."

  "Public school! You lucky one--classes with boys in them and boys in the hallways and in the cafeteria. Here we see boys only when the high priestess permits a dance."

  "High priestess?"

  "Miss Mallory. You know she's only twentysix, but Ellen Stevens told me she heard that Miss Mallory has taken a vow like a nun, dedicating herself to education. She will never marry. She lives here and never has a date!"

  "Ellen Stevens?"

  "Yes. Oh, you'll meet everyone at lunch. We have the best table in the junior high wing. There's Ellen and Marie Johnson, whose daddy makes all those automobile tools, and Betsy Edwards, whose father runs the Boston Opera House, and Carla Reeve, whose . ."

  "Is everyone known by what their father does?" I interrupted. It took the wind out of the sails of her excitement.

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I just thought you'd like to know. At least, most girls who come here want to know those things."

  "Well I don't," I said sharply. Her face sagged. "All right," I said, "what does your daddy do?"

  He was a lawyer, one of the best in New England," she said proudly. And then her smile turned as fragile as paper-thin glass. "but he died last year."

  "Oh, I'm sorry."

  "I suppose that's why I brag about everyone's fathers." She dropped her eyes and then raised them quickly as a new thought reinstated her enthusiastic mood. "but how come you have a stepfather and one so young?" I was sure she thought my father had died too and we had much more in common than just our ages and classes.

  "My mother divorced my father," I blurted. I didn't see the point of hiding it. Eventually, everyone would find out anyway. Her eyes widened.

  "How sad," she said. "Is it hard for you to see your real father?"

  "Yes. He works a lot. He runs an ocean liner business. But, he's going to come here to see me this week," I added, not hiding my happiness and excitement. "He'll take me to dinner."

  "That's nice," she said. "My daddy used to do that," she added wistfully.

  "Not this time because it's the first time I'll see him in a while, but maybe next time, I'll take you along, if you'd like."

  "Really! I'd love it. And I won't say anything stupid or embarrassing. You'll tell me what to say and what not to. And I won't tell any of the other girls anything you tell me about it. I promise, cross my heart, pinky promise," she said extending her pinky. I had to laugh.

  "All right, I'll tell you some of it, but first, let's get my things put away, before the high priestess comes looking for me.
"

  Jennifer squealed with delight and hugged me. In just a few minutes she drove away the troubled thoughts that had crowded into the darkest corners of my brain. I knew it was the beginning of a great friendship.

  Jennifer gave me the tour, showing me the cafeteria, the assembly hail, the underground tunnels and gymnasium. Then she told me the quickest way to get to each of my classes.

  "Our teachers usually make a big thing of your being late to class, so watch out for that--otherwise . ." She ran her right forefinger across the base of her neck. "It's a meeting with the high priestess and one of her long lectures about decorum and the need for discipline and order. Ugh."

  "You've had a few, I gather?"

  "A few," she confessed, "but she's been nice to me ever since . . . ever since," she added. It was enough. I understood. "You'd better go to see her now. I've got to make science class. Then we have lunch and you'll meet everyone."

  "Thank you, Jennifer."

  She shrugged.

  "Glad you're here. You're my first roommate."

  "Really? But I thought you said you've been here for three years."

  "Just the way the cookie crumbled," she said and went off to make her class. She was definitely what Grandma Jana would call "a fresh drink of water." I hurried back to Miss Mallory's office to get my schedule and first lecture. Now that Tony was no longer present, there was a distinct change in her attitude. She was far more formal and her expression lost its softness. With hard-eyed calculations, she looked me over, weighed me, measured me, guessed at my character, my weaknesses, my strengths.

  "When the bell rings at seven each weekday morning, you are to rise and dress as quickly as possible. Breakfast is at seven-thirty, so there is little time to dillydally over makeup and hair.

  "I must tell you, we don't play any favorites here. You will have to earn the respect of your teachers and your classmates.

  "Most importantly, at Winterhaven, we don't flaunt our wealth. I hope you keep this in mind. As I told you earlier, I am very proud of my girls, proud of this school, proud of what it has come to mean.

  "I'm sure you will be an asset," she finally added. "Well, see it's just about time for lunch, so you might as well go directly to the cafeteria. Come by if you have any questions or problems. My door is always open."

  "Thank you, Miss Mallory," I said and left quickly.

  The moment I entered the cafeteria, Jennifer stood up and beckoned. Our table was the farthest to the right, near the big windows, so we had a view of the front of the school. I hurried over. Jennifer had my seat saved right beside hers.

  "Hi," I said. All the girls studied me just the way I would study a new girl who entered my old school--checking my clothing, my looks, the way I wore my hair. I was sure, however, that Jennifer had filled them in on some things already.

  "I'll introduce everyone," Jennifer declared. "Leigh, this is Ellen Stevens, Toby Krantz, Wendy Cooper, Carla Reeve, Betsy Edwards, and Marie Johnson." All the girls nodded and said "Hi." I thought Marie Johnson was the prettiest and I understood she was the leader of the group.

  "How was your meeting with the high priestess?" Jennifer asked.

  "All right," I said. "She gave me my schedule." I held it out and Jennifer confirmed we shared all our classes. Some of the other girls were in some as well.

  "Didn't she tell you how distinguished and respectable Winterhaven is and how we are all model citizens?" Marie asked, batting her eyelashes. The other girls tittered. I nodded, laughing myself. "Well, we are when we want to be," Marie continued, looking sly. ". . . when it suits us."

  "You better get your food fast," she told me. "We don't have all that much time for lunch."

  I went off to the lunch line. The food was a lot better than what I was used to at my old school. At least one thing reflected the cost, I thought.

  "Jennifer told us your stepfather's name," Ellen Stevens said when I sat back down. "Does he have anything to do with Tatterton Toys?"

  "He is Tatterton Toys," I said, surprising myself at how proud I sounded.

  "I knew it," Carla Reeve chirped. "My mother knows him. We have three Tatterton collectibles."

  "Really?"

  "Is he as good-looking as Jennifer claims?" Marie asked, her eyes narrowing. She had a much more mature look than any of the others.

  "He's very good-looking, otherwise my momma wouldn't have married him," I said, not meaning to sound as snobby as I did.

  "My momma'?" Betsy said. Marie flashed a sharp look at her and she wiped the smirk off her face. Then she turned to me.

  "You're lucky," she said. "You're sitting with the best group of girls in the junior high wing. We have our own special club. We stick together. I'm having a party in my room tonight after curfew. You can come."

  "But what about the rules?"

  "What about them? Don't tell me you believe the things the high priestess told you. She's fast asleep herself by nine o'clock and as far as Mrs. Thorndyke, our dorm mother, goes, you could explode a bomb at her door and she won't stop snoring."

  Everyone laughed.

  "Don't worry," Jennifer said. "I'll bring you with me."

  I had just enough time to finish eating before the bell rang and I was off to my first class. School anywhere was more or less the same, I soon found out. Pages to read, questions to copy from the chalkboard. I didn't have as much to catch up on as I had feared I would. The teachers were nice about it, asking me to describe the classes I had had at my old school and then taking the time to show me what I should study and review. Because our classes were small, there was a great deal more individual attention than I had in the public school.

  That evening, when Jennifer and I went to the cafeteria for dinner, there was a rose on the table at my seat. The girls were all chattering about it when we arrived.

  "What's that?" Jennifer asked excitedly.

  "It's for Leigh," Wendy said enviously.

  "For me?" I looked at the card, which I was sure they had read already. It said, "Good luck, Tony." "It's from my stepfather," I explained.

  "How thoughtful!" Jennifer exclaimed.

  "How romantic," Marie said and gazed at me with a twinkle in her eye. "Why isn't your mother's name on it as well?" All the girls turned to me to hear my reply.

  "I imagine he thought of it at the spur of the moment," I said. "And ordered it from his Boston office."

  Marie smiled at the others and all of them, except Jennifer, giggled.

  "Why is that funny?" No one said anything, but I saw them look at Marie.

  "I would have thought he would sign it 'Daddy,"

  " Marie said.

  "But he's not my daddy. My father is not dead. My parents are divorced," I announced. I was glad Jennifer had not gossiped, but each of the girls stared at me with lips agape, as if I were an apparition straight from the cemetery of bad taste. All of them came from wealthy, upper-class families, families concerned about their lineage. Some had proof their ancestors came over on the Mayflower. Divorces weren't tolerated.

  When Jennifer and I returned with our trays of food, we found the conversation at the table more subdued. I could see from the looks on the faces of the other girls that they had been discussing me. The warm greeting I had received at lunch chilled. The girls began to argue about what kind of makeup they liked the best. When I started to offer an opinion, no one but Jennifer seemed to be listening.

  After dinner we were all supposed to begin our study hour. As the girls rose to leave, Marie leaned over to me.

  "I'm canceling my party tonight," she said. "I forgot I have a science test tomorrow."

  I just nodded and watched her join the others.

  "She's not canceling her party," I told Jennifer. "They don't want to associate with me because my parents are divorced."

  "Don't worry," Jennifer whispered as we started out after them, "they'll get over it."

  "I don't care if they do or they don't," I said, but in my secret, putaway heart, I was crying. Why
did Momma want me to go to school in a place filled with blue bloods who walked with their noses so high, you couldn't see their eyes? None of them, except Jennifer, would want to invite me to their homes, I thought. Why was I being punished for the things Momma did? Would people always blame me? I shuddered to think of what these girls would do if they knew the truth about my birth.

  I wanted to be back home in Boston more than ever and going to my old school, where my real friends would feel sorry for me instead of think me a leper. Now, at a time in my life when I needed friends more than ever, I was thrown in with these spoiled, wealthy girls. I wanted to run away. I even thought about how I would do it. I would go to live with Daddy, even though he was always traveling. Anything would be better than this.

  Jennifer was very sweet though and made every effort to cheer me up. We worked diligently on our school assignments, but spent a lot of time talking about fashion and music and boys. Like me, she had never really had a boyfriend, but there was a boy she liked who attended Allandale, an all-boys prep school that occasionally had dances with Winterhaven.

  Recreation hour was well underway when we left our room to go watch television, but when we arrived, we didn't find any of the girls from our table, or what Marie had called "the special club."

  "They're all in her room, having their party. You should go. 1 don't mean to spoil anything for you, Jennifer," I said.

  "I don't want to go, not if you're not invited," she replied. "Besides, they're being horrible. I'm surprised at them, not that they've always been that nice to me."

  "I hate hypocrites," I declared and something proud sprung into my spine. Jennifer saw the flames of anger in. my face.

  "What?" she asked, holding her breath.

  "Let's go," I commanded and marched out of the recreation room.

  "Where?" Jennifer called, following.

  "To Marie's room," I snapped, not pausing a step.