Cutler 1 - Dawn

by V. C. Andrews

  "Well, we got here as soon as we could, ma'am. I—"

  "Never mind. Please be seated," she said to us and indicated the chairs in front of her desk. Daddy stood back, folding his arms across his chest. When I looked back at him, I saw a cold sharpness in his eyes. He was holding back his anger.

  "Should I stay?" he asked.

  "Of course, Mr. Longchamp. I like the parents to be present when I explain to students the philosophies of the Emerson Peabody School, so everyone understands. I was hoping your mother would be able to come as well," she said to us.

  Jimmy glared back at her. I could feel the tension in his body.

  "Our momma's not feeling that well yet, ma'am," I said. "And we have a baby sister she has to mind."

  "Yes. Be that as it may," Mrs. Turnbell said and sat down herself. "I trust you will take back to her everything I tell you anyway. Now, then," she said, looking at some papers before her on her desk. Everything on it was neatly arranged. "Your name is Dawn?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Dawn," she repeated and shook her head and looked up at Daddy. "That's the child's full Christian name?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Very well, and you are James?"

  "Jimmy," Jimmy corrected.

  "We don't use nicknames here, James." She clasped her hands and leaned toward us, fixing her gaze on Jimmy. "Those sort of things might have been tolerated at the other institutions you attended, public institutions," she said, making the word public sound like a curse word, "but this is a special school. Our students come from the finest families in the South, sons and daughters of people with heritage and position. Names are respected; names are important, as important as anything else.

  "I'll come right to the point. I know you children haven't had the same upbringing and advantages as the rest of my students have had, and I imagine it will take you two a little longer to fit in. However, I expect that very shortly you two will adjust and conduct yourselves like Emerson Peabody students are supposed to conduct themselves.

  "You will address all your teachers as either sir or ma'am. You will come to school dressed neatly and be clean. Never challenge a command. I have a copy of our rules here, and I expect both of you to read and commit them all to memory."

  She turned toward Jimmy.

  "We don't tolerate bad language, fighting, or disrespect in any form or manner. We expect students to treat each other with respect, too. We frown on tardiness and loitering, and we will not stand for any sort of vandalism when it comes to our beautiful building.

  "Very soon you will see how special Emerson Peabody is, and you will realize how lucky you are to be here. Which brings me to my final point: In a real sense, you two are guests. The rest of the student body pays a handsome fee to be able to attend Emerson Peabody. The board of trustees has made it possible for you two to attend because of your father. Therefore, you have as added responsibility to behave and be a credit to our school.

  "Am I understood?"

  "Yes, ma'am," I said quickly. Jimmy glared at her with defiance. I held my breath, hoping he wouldn't say anything nasty.

  "James?"

  "I understand," he said in a somber tone.

  "Very well," she said and sat back. "Mr. Longchamp, you may resume your duties. You two will go out to Miss Jackson, who will provide you with your class schedules and assign a locker to each of you." She stood up abruptly, and Jimmy and I stood up, too. She stared at us a moment longer and then nodded. Daddy started out first.

  "James," she called just as we reached the door. He and I turned back. "It would be nice if you shined your shoes. Remember, we are often judged by our appearance." Jimmy didn't reply. He walked out ahead of me.

  "I'll try to get him to do it, ma'am," I said. She nodded and I closed the door behind me.

  "I gotta get to work," Daddy said and then left the office quickly.

  "Well," Jimmy said. "Welcome to Emerson Peabody. Still think it's going to be peaches and cream?"

  I swallowed hard; my heart was pounding.

  "I bet she's that way with every new student, Jimmy."

  "Jimmy? Didn'tcha hear? It's James," he said with an affected accent. Then he shook his head.

  "We're in for it now," he said.

  3

  ALWAYS A STRANGER

  The first day at a new school was never easy, but Mrs. Turnbell had made it harder for us. I couldn't get the trembles out of my body as Jimmy and I left the principal's office with our schedules. In some schools the principal-assigned a big brother and a big sister to help us get started and find our way around, but here at Emerson Peabody we were thrown out to sink or swim on our own.

  We weren't halfway down the main corridor when doors began to open and students began to enter. They came in laughing and talking, acting like any other students we had seen, only how they were dressed!

  All of the girls had on expensive-looking, beautiful winter coats made of the softest wool I had ever seen. Some of the coats even had fur trim on the collars. The boys all wore navy blue jackets and ties and khaki-colored slacks and the girls wore pretty dresses or skirts and blouses. Everyone's clothes looked new. They were all dressed as if this were their first day, too, only it wasn't. They were in their regular everyday school clothes!

  Jimmy and I stopped in our tracks and stared, and when the students saw us, they stared, too, some very curious, some looking and then laughing to each other. They moved about in small clumps of friends. Most had been brought to the school in shiny clean buttercup-yellow buses, but we could see from gazing out the opening doors that some of the older students drove to school in their own fancy cars.

  No one came over to introduce him or herself. When they approached us, they went to one side or the other, parting around us as if we were contagious. I tried smiling at this girl or that, but none really smiled back. Jimmy just glared. Soon we were at the center of a pool of laughter and noise.

  I looked at the papers that told us the times for the class periods and realized we had to move along if we weren't going to be late the very first day. In fact, just as we got our lockers opened and hung up our coats, the bell rang to signal that everyone had to go to homeroom.

  "Good luck, Jimmy," I said when I left him at the beginning of the corridor.

  "I'll need it," he replied and sauntered off.

  Homeroom at Emerson Peabody was the same as it was anywhere else. My homeroom teacher, Mr. Wengrow, was a short, stout, curly-haired man who held a yardstick in his hand like a whip and tapped it on his desk every time someone's voice went over a whisper or he had something to say. All of the students looked up at him attentively, their hands folded on their desks. When I entered, every head turned my way. It made me feel like I was a magnet and their heads and bodies were made of iron. Mr. Wengrow took my schedule sheet. He read it, pressed his lips together, and entered my name in his roll book. Then he tapped his yardstick.

  "Boys and girls, I'd like to introduce you to a new student. Her name is Dawn Longchamp. Dawn, I'm Mr. Wengrow. Welcome to 10Y and to Emerson Peabody. You can take the next to last seat in the second row. And Michael Standard, make sure your feet aren't on the back of her chair," he warned.

  The students looked at Michael, a small boy with dark brown hair and an impish grin. There was some tittering as he straightened in his seat. I thanked Mr. Wengrow and walked back to sit at my desk. Everyone's eyes were still on me. A girl wearing thick blue-framed glasses across from me offered me a smile of welcome. I smiled back. She had bright red hair tied in a ponytail, that hung listlessly down her back. I saw she had long thin pale arms and thin pale legs that were covered all over with pale red freckles. I thought about Momma telling me how awkward and gangly she was when she was my age.

  I heard the public address system click on. Mr. Wengrow straightened into attention and glared around the room to be sure everyone was being attentive. Then Mrs. Turnbell came on and commanded everyone to rise for the Pledge of Allegiance, after which she made a se
ries of announcements about the activities of the day. When she was finished and the public address system clicked off, we were permitted to sit down, but almost as soon as we did, the bell rang to begin the first-period class.

  "Hi," the girl with the red ponytail said. "I'm Louise Williams." When she stood next to me, I realized how tall she was. She had a long bony nose and thin lips, but her timid eyes held more warmth than anyone else's had yet at this school. "What do you have first?" she asked.

  "Phys ed," I said.

  "Mrs. Allen?"

  I looked at my schedule card.

  "Yes."

  "Good. You're in my class. Let me see your schedule," she added, practically ripping it out of my hand. "Oh, you're in a lot of my classes. You'll have to tell me all about yourself, who your parents are and where you live. What a nice dress. It must be your favorite; you look like you're wearing it out. Where did you go to school before? Do you know anyone here yet?" She fired one question after another at me before we even reached the door. I just shook my head and smiled.

  "Come on," Louise said, urging me along.

  From the way the other girls ignored Louise as we passed through the corridor to our first class, I gathered that she wasn't very popular. It was always hard to break the ice in a new school, but usually there were cracks to find. Here, the ice around me seemed solid, except for Louise, who talked a streak from homeroom to our first class.

  By the time we reached the gymnasium, I knew that she was very good in math and science and only fair in history and English. Her daddy was a lawyer in a family firm that went back just ages and ages, and she had two brothers and a sister who were still in grade school.

  "Mrs. Allen's office is over there," Louise said, pointing. "She'll assign you a locker and give you a gym suit and a towel for your shower." With that, she hurried off to change.

  Mrs. Allen was a tall woman about forty years old, "All the girls must take showers after class," she insisted as she handed me a towel. I nodded. "Come on," she said. She looked stern as we walked toward the locker room. The loud chatter eased up when we entered, and all the girls turned our way. It was a mixed class with girls from three different grades. Louise was already in her uniform.

  "Girls, I would like you all to meet a new student, Dawn Longchamp. Let's see," Mrs. Allen said, "your locker is over there"—she pointed across the room—"next to Clara Sue Cutler."

  I gazed at the blond girl with the chubby face and figure who was standing at the center of a small clique. None of them were in uniform yet. Mrs. Allen's eyes narrowed as she led me across the locker room.

  "What's taking you girls so long?" she asked and then sniffed. "I smell smoke. Have you girls been smoking?" she demanded with her hands on her hips. They all looked at one another anxiously. Then I saw some smoke coming out of a locker.

  "It's not a cigarette, Mrs. Allen," I said. "Look." Mrs. Allen squinted and moved to the locker quickly.

  "Clara Sue, open this locker immediately," she demanded.

  The chubby girl sauntered over to it and worked the combination. When she opened it, Mrs. Allen made her stand back. There was a lit cigarette burning on the shelf.

  "I don't know how that got in there," Clara Sue said, her eyes wide with what was obviously fake amazement.

  "Oh, you don't, don't you?"

  "I'm not smoking it. You can't say I'm smoking," Clara Sue protested haughtily.

  Mrs. Allen lifted the burning cigarette out of the locker, holding it between her forefinger and thumb as though it were a cylinder of disease.

  "Behold, girls," she said, "a cigarette that smokes itself."

  There was some giggling. Clara Sue locked very uncomfortable.

  "All right, everyone get dressed and quickly. Miss Cutler, you and I will have a talk about this later," she said, then pivoted and left the locker. The moment she was gone, Clara Sue came at me, her face red and bloated with anger.

  "You stupid idiot!" she screamed. "Why did you tell her?"

  "I thought it was a fire," I explained.

  "Oh, brother. Who are you, Alice in Wonderland? Now you got me in trouble."

  "I'm sorry, I . . ."

  I looked around. All the girls were glaring at me. "I didn't mean it. Honest. I thought I was helping you."

  "Helping?" She shook her head. "You helped me into trouble, that's what you did."

  Everyone nodded and the group broke up so everyone could finish dressing. I looked to Louise, but even she turned away. Afterward, the girls were very standoffish in the gym. Every chance she got, Clara Sue glared hatefully at me. I tried to explain again, but she wasn't interested.

  When Mrs. Allen blew the whistle to end the period and send us to the showers, I tried to get Louise's attention.

  "You got her in trouble," was all she would say.

  Here I was only an hour or so in a new school and already I had made enemies when all I wanted to do was make some new friends. As soon as I saw Clara Sue, I apologized again, making it sound as sincere as I could.

  "It's all right," Clara Sue suddenly said. "I shouldn't have blamed you. I just lost my temper. It was my own fault."

  "Really, I wouldn't have pointed out the smoke if I'd thought you were smoking. I don't tattletale."

  "I believe you. Girls," she said to those nearest, "we shouldn't blame Dawn. That's your name, right? Dawn?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

  "A brother," I said quickly.

  "What's his name, Afternoon?" a tall beautiful girl with dark hair asked. Everyone laughed.

  "We better get moving or we're going to be late for our next class," Clara Sue announced. It was easy to see that many of the girls looked up to her as a leader. I couldn't believe I'd had the bad luck to begin by getting her in trouble. Of all the girls to get in trouble, I thought, and breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for her forgiveness. I took off my gym uniform quickly and followed everyone to the showers. They were nice showers, clean stalls with flower-print shower curtains, and the water was warm, too.

  "You better get a move on in there," I heard Mrs. Allen call.

  I stepped out of the shower and wiped myself dry as quickly as I could. Then I wrapped the towel around my body and rushed to my locker. It was wide open. Had I forgotten to lock it? I wondered. I discovered the answer very quickly. Except for my shoes, all my clothes were gone.

  "Where are my clothes?" I cried. I turned around.

  All the girls were looking my way and smiling. Clara Sue was standing by the sink, brushing her hair. "Please. This isn't funny. Those are my best clothes."

  That made everyone laugh. I looked to Louise, but she turned away quickly, slammed her locker shut, and hurried out of the locker room. Soon everyone but me was leaving.

  "Please!" I cried. "Who knows where my clothes are?"

  "They're being washed," someone called back.

  "Washed? What does that mean? Washed?"

  I spun around, the towel still tucked in over my body. I was alone in the locker room. The bells were ringing. What was I going to do?

  I started looking everywhere, under benches, in corners, but I found nothing until I went into the bathroom and checked the stalls.

  "Oh, no!" I cried. They had thrown my clothes into the toilet. There was my pretty dress, my bra, and my panties. Even my socks, soaking with toilet paper floating around it all for good measure. And the water was discolored. Someone had urinated in there, too!

  I fell back against the stall door and sobbed. What was I going to do?

  "Who's left in here?" I heard Mrs. Allen ask.

  "It's me," I bawled. She stepped into the bathroom.

  "Well, what are you . . ."

  I pointed down at the toilet, and she gazed into the stall.

  "Oh, no. Who did this?"

  "I don't know, Mrs. Allen."

  "I don't have any trouble guessing," she said sternly.

  "What will I do?"

  She thought a m
oment, shaking her head.

  "Fish them out and we'll put them in the washer and dryer with the towels. In the meantime, you will have to wear your gym uniform."

  "To classes?"

  "There's nothing else you can do, Dawn. I'm sorry."

  "But . . . everyone will laugh at me."

  "It's up to you. You will miss a few classes by the time this is all washed and dried out. I'll go to see Mrs. Turnbell and explain what happened."

  I nodded and lowered my head in defeat as I walked back to my locker to put on my gym uniform.

  As the morning went on, I found most of my teachers to be kind and sympathetic once they heard what had happened, but the rest of the students thought it was very funny, and everywhere I looked I found them smiling and laughing at me. It was always hard to face new students whenever I went to a new school, but here, before I even got a chance to meet anyone and anyone got a chance to know me, I was the laughingstock.

  When Jimmy saw me in the hallway and I told him what had happened, he was outraged.

  "What did I tell you about this place?" he said loud enough for most of the students around us in the hallway to hear. "I'd just like to know who did it, that's all. I'd just like to get my hands on her."

  "It's all right, Jimmy," I said, trying to calm him down. "I'll be all right. After the next class my clothes should be washed and dried." I didn't mention the fact that my dress would be wrinkled and need ironing. I didn't want him to get any angrier than he was.

  The warning bell for the next class rang.

  Jimmy scowled so hard at the students who were staring at us that most turned their heads away as they rushed to get to class.

  "I'll be all right, Jimmy," I insisted again before starting toward my math class.

  "I'd like to know who did it!" he called after me. "Just so I could wring her neck." He said it loud enough for everyone who was left in the hallway to hear.

  As soon as I entered class, the teacher called me to his desk.