Logan 05 Olivia

by V. C. Andrews

cost would easily be three times as expensive as an

  off-the-rack dress, but once again, Daddy surrendered

  before any battle and to my surprise, put away his

  famous measurement of "What's the bottom line?"

  This time, there was no bottom line.

  I had to admit Belinda looked beautiful

  graduation day. It was a perfect afternoon for an

  outdoor graduation ceremony, too. A gentle, warm

  breeze came in from the ocean, and the sky was

  turquoise with puffs of clouds moving imperceptibly

  across the horizon.

  It had been decided that Belinda would attend

  the same finishing school I had attended, only she

  would go immediately and start with their summer

  session. Daddy thought it was wise to get her away as

  quickly as he could, and get her into formal training to

  make her more of a lady. His intentions were clear: he

  wanted her to be a prize for the right young man. My graduation couldn't be held outside. It had

  occurred on a rainy day. The auditorium was stuffy

  and very uncomfortable with dozens of small children

  crying, flashbulbs going off everywhere, proud parents and grandparents waving and gaping like visitors at a zoo. I had felt like a caged animal, squeezed in with my classmates, waiting for the

  speeches to end.

  Belinda's graduation was more like a grand

  picnic.

  Streamers and balloons decorated the grounds.

  Sunshine made everyone look bright and alive, full of

  happiness. Young children could go off and play, out

  of the way of the adults. The "Pomp and

  Circumstance" march flowed melodiously through the

  warm air. Everyone rose and the graduates, all

  looking cheerful and excited, came down the aisle to

  take their seats on the platform.

  Maybe because it wasn't my graduation, it also

  seemed to go a lot more smoothly. The speeches

  weren't as long and before we knew it, they were

  handing out the diplomas. Daddy surprised me with

  his excitement, behaving just like all the other proud

  fathers, rushing down the aisle to take a picture of

  Belinda accepting her diploma. When I graduated, he

  relied on the professional group photographer and

  never moved from his seat. Belinda took her diploma

  with her usual flair, practically spinning completely to

  beam a smile in his direction.

  "Thank heavens," Mother muttered beside me.

  "I had my fears."

  Afterward, we celebrated at the Clam and

  Claw, a seafood restaurant near the Point. Daddy

  invited some of his business associates to join us and

  pretty quickly into the celebration, I saw that Belinda

  was getting bored. She exploded with happiness as

  soon as Peter Wilkes appeared at the restaurant. "Oh, good," she said as he approached. "I

  thought I would die of boredom."

  "What's this?" Daddy said interrupting his

  conversation to look up at Peter.

  "I guess I'm a little early," Peter said. "That's all right. Isn't it, Daddy?" Belinda

  followed with exuberance.

  Daddy smiled with embarrassment at his

  guests. "Well . . . you haven't finished your meal yet,

  Belinda."

  "Oh, I can't eat anymore, Daddy."

  "Where are you going?" I asked when she

  stood.

  "To the beach party, silly. Remember? Daddy

  said it was all right," she added.

  I looked at Daddy. His eyes met mine and then

  slipped away quickly.

  "Well, now you get home early, Belinda.

  Graduation or no graduation . ."

  "Oh, Winston, don't be an ogre," Mr. Collins

  said. He was one of Daddy's business partners. "A

  young girl graduates high school only once." "Thank heavens for that," Mother said and

  everyone at the table but me laughed.

  Belinda rushed around the table to give

  everyone a hug and a kiss. She even stopped to throw

  her arms around me.

  "Thank you, big sister," she said. "I love the

  suitcase."

  I had given her a quality piece of luggage for

  her trip to finishing school. It was a practical gift, one

  of the few she had received.

  Peter gave me a weak smile and hurried along

  as Belinda tugged on his hand.

  "Bye," he called.

  I gazed at Daddy. He watched, them go, looked

  at me, and then turned to talk to Mr. Collins. We left the restaurant a little over an hour later.

  The night proved to be as beautiful as the day. It was

  actually balmy. I looked out toward the ocean as we

  drove home and thought how wonderful it must be to

  be at a beach party right now. A nearly cloudless sky revealed so many more stars. The Big Dipper never

  looked as clear or sharp.

  When we arrived at home, I went directly to my

  room. All I wanted to do was fall asleep, fall asleep

  and forget, fall asleep and dream I was someone else,

  someplace else. It took me a long time because I

  tossed and turned, lying there at times with my eyes

  wide open. Sleep was behind a locked door and not

  ready to embrace me.

  You have to suffer first, I thought. You have to

  suffer with your loneliness.

  I finally fell asleep only to be woken by a

  gentle and then loud knock on my door. At first I

  thought it was part of a dream. Then I sat up and

  heard it again.

  "Yes?"

  Daddy poked his head between the door and

  jamb. "I hate to bother you, Olivia, but . . . well, your

  mother's worried, too."

  "Worried? Why?"

  "It's nearly three in the morning and Belinda

  has not come home."

  "That never worried you before," I said sharply.

  He hesitated.

  "Yes, well, considering what happened . ." "We aren't supposed to talk about it, Daddy," I

  snapped. I wasn't feeling very charitable.

  "Please, Olivia."

  "What do you want me to do, Daddy?" "Could you go look for her?"

  "At the beach?"

  "Yes," he said. "We don't want her to get into

  any more trouble."

  "I can't believe she would do anything like that,

  Daddy," I said. He remained in the doorway. "I'm more worried about your mother," he said.

  "All right," I said. "I'll go find her."

  "Thank you, Olivia."

  I rose and put on a pair of slacks and a sweater.

  I grabbed my light jacket on the way out and hurried

  down the corridor and stairs, driven mostly by anger.

  How could she be so insensitive and selfish? She

  knew what Daddy and Mother had suffered. No

  matter how generous and forgiving they were, Belinda

  always took advantage.

  I got into my car and headed for the beach road

  I knew they had taken. There was one area on the east

  end that the school kids always favored, even before

  my day. Sure enough, as I started down the road, I

  saw cars were still parked there. This was going to be

  an all-nighter.

  I found a space and parked and then plodded

  over the sandy beach toward one of the bonfires. I

  heard laughter to my right and radio music caught inr />
  the wind. It whipped at my hair and spit some sand

  into my face. The ocean roared in on a line of

  whitecaps.

  I saw couples wrapped in blankets around the

  fire, but none of the girls was Belinda. They gazed up

  at me curiously. Some even had bottles of whiskey

  and wine.

  I continued toward the next bonfire, my anger

  boiling over like a pan of hot milk. Once again, I did

  not see Belinda, but I did recognize Marcia Gleason

  and Arnold Miller. Arnold nearly jumped out of his

  blanket when he saw me bearing down on them. "Where's my sister?" I demanded.

  "Belinda?" he said stupidly, sitting up slowly. I

  could see Marcia was topless under the blanket. "No, my other ten sisters. Of course, Belinda.

  Where is she?"

  "I'm not sure . ."

  "Someone is going to get into a lot of trouble if

  I don't find her within the next minute," I threatened.

  "Do your parents know where you are and what you're

  doing right now, Marcia?" I asked pointedly. "I thought she went home," Marcia whined.

  "The last time I saw her she was going for a walk with

  Quin over the hill," she added, nodding toward the

  bank behind them. I glared down at her a moment. "I hope I don't have to come back," I said and

  started toward the small rise in the beach. I heard

  Arnold chastising Marcia for telling me anything. For a long moment after I reached the peak of

  the small hill, I saw nothing. Then, I caught a

  movement to my right and spotted two heads popping

  out of a sleeping bag. I drew closer. The movement

  within the bag was not hard to translate. It brought the

  blood to my face.

  "Belinda!" I screamed, but my voice was

  carried off by the wind. I screamed it again as I

  approached and finally, they both stopped and

  hesitated. I called her again.

  "Olivia?" I heard her say.

  "Damn you," I cried and they scurried like rats,

  Quin groping for his clothing on the sand. He was

  pulling up his pants by the time I stepped up beside

  them. Belinda hadn't moved. "How can you be doing

  this?" I demanded.

  "We were just . . ." Quin scrambled for his sneakers. "I know what you were just doing, Quin

  Lothar," I said.

  "I gotta go. It's late," he said and lunged to his

  feet, not taking the time to put on his sneakers. In a

  moment he had disappeared into the darkness. Belinda whimpered.

  "You ruined my graduation night," she said

  through her sobs.

  "I ruined . . Do you know Mother and Daddy

  are beside themselves with worry and now that I've

  come for you and have seen what you were doing,

  they had every reason to worry. How could you do

  this after what's happened?" I asked, my voice filled

  with amazement. Was there no bottom to Belinda's

  descent?

  "We were being careful," she said.

  "Oh, that's a relief to know. Do you just jump

  into anyone's sleeping bag on the beach, Belinda?" "No. It's graduation night!" she declared as

  though that was a license to lose all morality. "Just put your clothes on and come home with

  me immediately," I said.

  "But everyone is staying out all night." "Daddy sent me to get you," I declared to

  impress her. She didn't move. "Belinda, I'm not going

  home without you."

  "This is horrible," she cried. "You were happy

  to come get me. You don't want me to have a good

  time because you never do."

  "If this is what you call having a good time,

  you're right," I snapped back. "Just get dressed.

  Now!"

  She got out of the sleeping bag and began to put

  on her clothes. I couldn't watch her. It filled me with

  too much disgust. Instead, I turned away and looked

  toward the sound of the ocean.

  Was she right? Did I come here to get her

  because I was jealous? If I had met someone to whom

  I was attracted in high school and who was attracted

  to me, would I have been on the beach too?

  Something inside me told me no, I would have

  been more sensible, but at the moment, that didn't

  make me feel better or superior. It put a rock of

  sadness into the bottom of my stomach.

  Belinda sulked as we trekked over the beach

  toward the car. The music followed us along with the

  laughter.

  "I'm not going to be around all the time to save

  you from yourself, Belinda," I told her when we

  reached the car.

  "Good," she fired back.

  She was fuming all the way home. After we

  entered the house, she marched up the stairs and

  slammed the door to her room. Daddy came out. "She all right?" he asked.

  "Yes," I said. I decided not to give him any of

  the gritty details. He didn't seem to want to hear them

  anyway.

  "Thank you, Olivia," he said. "You're the

  strength, the steel spine of this family. You always

  will be," he added with a nod. It was as if he had

  declared me heir to his throne, whether I wanted it or

  not.

  It was who I was to be.

  I fell asleep dreaming about that sleeping bag

  we had left empty on the beach.

  3

  A Wolf in

  Sheep's Clothing

  .

  For a while I thought Belinda wouldn't attend

  the finishing school or that Daddy would give in to her and postpone it until the fall. A few times, he tottered on the brink of caving in to her pleas. She tried desperately to get him to do so, moaning and groaning about not having the summer free to enjoy with her friends.

  When Daddy vacillated, I helped prop him up again.

  "You know she needs it more than ever, Daddy. It was your good idea. Don't let her pull the wool over your eyes. She'll be more than a handful for all of us if she has nothing whatsoever to do with her time," I reminded him. He pressed his lips together and held tight, but Belinda didn't give up.

  "Who goes to school in the summer? Only people who have failed classes. I didn't fail any classes," she wailed, choosing to make our dinner hour as unpleasant as she could every night until she got her way.

  "It won't be like going to school, Belinda," Mother told her. "It's a special school with beautiful grounds and dormitories, isn't it, Olivia?"

  "Yes," I said, "with the finest facilities and some of the best teachers."

  "It's still a school. I still have to be in stuffy classrooms while the sun is out and my friends are sailing and having fun back here, don't I?" Belinda moaned. She pouted, refused to eat, stomped about the house, sulked and made everyone else miserable as her day of departure closed in on her.

  All during the week before she left, Belinda insisted on having her boyfriends and girlfriends come to the house and bid her good-bye as though she were off to war and they all might not see her ever again. Every time someone left, she was in tears.

  "No one will write me or call. They all say they will, but they won't. They'll forget me quickly," she complained through her sobs.

  "If that happens, that will show you they weren't very good friends anyway," I told her.

  "That's right: Mother echoed.

  "Oh . . . poop!" she cried, her face red with frustration, and ran up to her room.

  Actually, I enjoyed her last minute antics, enjoye
d her stream of complaints, her sobbing and sulking. From my expression, she saw she could find no sympathy in me, and no matter what she said to Mother, no matter what disaster she predicted, Mother found a silver lining.

  "You'll meet new people, make new friends, see interesting new things, learn so much. What an opportunity for you, Belinda, dear. I wish I was young and going off to finishing school, too."

  "And I wish I was old and past all this," she fired back with the tears flying off her cheeks.

  That made me laugh: Belinda wishing herself old. "You don't know what being old is," I told her. "As soon as you see the first wrinkle on your face, you'll threaten to commit suicide."

  "I will not. You're being dreadful to me, Olivia. You'll miss me when I'm gone," she threatened, which only made me laugh harder and make her sulk more.

  Finally, the day of her departure arrived. She did little to make herself ready. Carmelita had to pack everything with Mother's supervision. She wouldn't even pack her own toiletries. We were all supposed to go up with her in the limousine, but I managed to get out of the trip. Daddy was disappointed. No one could handle Belinda in our family as well as I could; however, I was determined not to sit in a car for hours and hear her whine about how cruel we were all being to her.

  She put on an award performance when Daddy told her to come out and get in the car. She stood on the walkway and looked back at me, her eyes filled with tears.

  "Good-bye, Olivia," she said with her hands clutched at her heart. "Good-bye house. Good-bye good times and childhood and being young and having fun. They're turning me over to ogres and teachers with whips in their eyes who will make me feel like some sort of mistake. I'll have no one to go to for help either when I'm tired or lonely." She paused and looked at me. "Stop smiling, Olivia. You know I'm not exaggerating. You were there. You know what it's like."

  "Belinda, you will stop being spoiled, if that's what you mean, and for once, you might have to consider someone else's feelings before you consider your own," I said.

  "You're just being mean as can be. I hate you," she spit at me and turned to the car, but before she got in, she looked back at me. "Please call me, Olivia. Call me tonight. Please," she pleaded.

  "I'll call you," I promised. "Now stop being a spoiled brat and make things easier for everyone," I ordered.

  She sucked in her sobs, took one deep breath like someone going under water, and got into the car. I had to smile. Maybe I would miss her, I thought, but I hoped she would change a little, grow up just a little, and do just what I said: make life easier for us all.

  A deceptive period of calm did follow Belinda's departure. Daddy and I were busy with his companies. Belinda called and cried over the telephone for a few days and then gave up. It looked like we might have an uneventful summer after all.