When they reached the double doors leading to the outside, Katy charged directly to the center of the grassy yard and heaved a sigh of relief.
Shelby caught up to her and laughed. “Just think—one day down. Only one hundred and seventy-nine more to go.”
Katy filled her cheeks with air and blew. She glanced at the milling crowd breaking into smaller groups to linger on the lawn or head toward the parking lot. Car doors and engines added a new harmony to the unique song of high school. “Thank you for helping me. I wouldn’t have found my classes without you.” Several times during the day Katy had offered a quick, silent prayer of thanks for Shelby’s presence. “You’ve been very kind.”
Shelby shrugged. “Just doin’ my job as escort. No problem at all. I hope your stomach will be better tomorrow.” She slipped her fingers into her pockets and glanced down the street. “You want me to stay with you until the bus gets here?”
Katy shook her head. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, Kathleen.” Shelby trotted off toward a cluster of girls, who huddled together to whisper and giggle. Whisper and giggle about me? Katy turned her back on the group, her ears burning. It was a wonder her ears hadn’t burnt up, as many times as they’d been scorched today.
She slipped her backpack from her shoulders and leaned it against her legs while she waited for the bus. When it arrived, she clambered on board quickly. The driver was a man this time, with a square jaw and thick eyebrows. He didn’t appear very friendly, so Katy didn’t bother to introduce herself. The first seat behind the driver was open, and she dropped into it with a sigh.
The bus carried the same younger, noisy riders from the morning. The kids were even louder going home, and the driver yelled for them to settle down. His gruff order brought a momentary respite, but then gradually the voices rose again, earning a second reprimand. By the time the bus reached Katy’s drop-off, her head ached from the bombardment of sounds.
Dad’s blue pickup waited, and Katy nearly flew to the passenger side. She flung herself into the cab. “Hi, Dad!” Had she ever been so happy to see him?
“Hi, Katy-girl. How was the first day?”
“It was—” Her tongue froze. How was the first day? She’d been laughed at and stared at and stared past as if she were invisible. She’d thrown up her breakfast and been unable to swallow her lunch. She’d met teachers who seemed kind and others who seemed stern. She’d stepped into the world, and just like pond water on the first day of summer, it was cold. But past experience had taught her if she submerged herself in the water and moved around, her body adjusted. If she submerged herself in high school, she would adjust. She hoped.
“It was fine.”
Dad nodded. He popped the gearshift into place and did a three-point turn-around to aim them toward their dairy farm. As they passed the schoolhouse, where two little boys bounced each other on the teeter-totter, Katy experienced a rush of loneliness. She gave her dad a pleading look. “Could I go visit Annika for a little bit?”
Dad rubbed his finger under his nose. “We have chores, Katy, and it’ll be suppertime soon.”
Katy bit her lip. Although Dad hadn’t come right out and said it, she knew he had hoped to have her full-time help once she finished at the Schellberg school. Most families had several kids to help with chores—Dad only had her. He could have insisted she not go to high school, but he’d allowed her to pursue her dream despite his apprehensions. The least she could do was go straight home from school and help with chores before putting supper on the table.
“Okay.” But frustration created an ugly knot in her empty stomach. Why couldn’t Dad understand she needed to talk to someone about this day—to share the hurt of being laughed at, the confusion of the huge school campus, the strangeness of being surrounded by so many people, and the overwhelming eagerness to see what she could learn from the heavy books in her backpack?
When she was little she had followed Dad all over the place and talked to him about everything. But she wasn’t little anymore, and it felt strange to share her innermost thoughts with him. If she couldn’t go see Annika, she’d pour everything into her journal…assuming Dad gave her time before bed. The older she got the more it seemed he only thought about the cows and what they needed.
Dad shot her a grin. “Gramma Ruthie brought over a special supper for your first day—chicken and stuffing casserole. You just have to heat it in the oven.”
Ordinarily, Katy’s mouth would water at the thought of digging into one of Gramma’s delicious dishes. But for some reason her stomach rebelled. She covered her mouth with her hand and swallowed the uncomfortable feeling that rose from her belly. Tipping her face toward the open window, she willed the wind to chase away the nausea.
“Katy-girl?”
She glanced at Dad.
“You okay?”
“I feel kind of sick, Dad.”
His face twisted into a worried scowl. Would he release her from evening chores? “Tomorrow you take your lunch box. It’s probably the cafeteria food.”
Katy almost laughed. Of course she’d still have to work. The cows had to be milked no matter how she felt. Besides, her own cooking was the culprit of her upset stomach—she hadn’t eaten a bite of the cafeteria food. But she wouldn’t walk into school with a lunch box. That would only give the kids another reason to point and snicker.
“The cafeteria food was fine. I was just too…excited to eat, so my stomach is complaining.”
“Well, let’s get you home then and we’ll have an early supper. The cows can wait a little bit to be put on the machines.”
Warmth filled Katy’s chest. Maybe Dad did think about her some too.
As Katy placed the last dripping plate in the dish drainer on the side of the sink, tapping sounded on the back door. She skipped through the narrow back foyer and spotted Annika on the little stoop outside the door. Katy let out a squeal of delight and threw the door wide. “Come in!” She grabbed Annika in a short hug and then pulled her into the kitchen.
Annika plucked an embroidered tea towel from the bar on the end of the counter and began drying a plate. “Mom said I could come see how your day at school went, but I had to make myself useful and not get in the way.”
Katy grabbed the towel and plate from Annika’s hands and pushed her onto a kitchen chair. “You don’t have to dry my dishes. You probably already dried your family’s dishes, didn’t you?”
Annika nodded, the ribbons on her cap bouncing against her shoulders. “Yes. And we have a lot more dishes than you do!”
Katy imagined the pile of dirty dishes after a meal at Annika’s house. Annika had five younger brothers and sisters, plus two older. The oldest was already married and living on his own farm, and her older sister’s engagement had recently been published to the fellowship. She would marry in December, making Annika the oldest child at home. Annika often complained about how much her responsibilities would increase when Taryn left. “All the more reason why you shouldn’t have to work over here too. Just talk to me while I get this finished up. What did you do today?”
Before Annika could answer, Dad clomped into the kitchen in his grimy choring coveralls. He glanced at Annika. “Oh, hello. You came to see Katy?”
Why else would she come? The question flitted through Katy’s mind, but fortunately it didn’t pass her lips. Dad never knew what to say to Annika, so he usually said something silly.
“Yes.” Annika bounced up from the chair. “But I can leave if I’m in the way.”
“No, no, sit down.” Dad waved his hand at Annika. He tugged the coverall’s zipper all the way to his chin. “I’m going to honk the horn to bring the cows in. Will you be out to help with the milking soon, Katy-girl?”
Katy pointed to the dishes in the drainer. “When I’ve finished the dishes.”
“Hurry, hm?” Dad headed out the back door.
Annika watched him go. “It’s too bad, isn’t it, that your dad doesn’t ha
ve any sons to help him.”
Katy didn’t answer. Gramma Ruthie had told her a long time ago it wasn’t her fault that her mother had become dissatisfied with the Old Order life and left, but when people said things like Annika just had, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe her mom would have stuck around—or taken her with her when she left—if she had been a boy instead of a girl. “I suppose. But I can do almost anything a boy can.” Defensiveness crept into Katy’s tone. “I worked all summer beside Dad with the cows and did the housekeeping.”
“Except you aren’t here now to work with him. You’re at school.” Annika propped her chin in her hands, her eyes bright. “How was it? School, I mean. Was it fun?”
Katy wouldn’t have called the day fun. She sought an appropriate response. “Intriguing. And enlightening.”
Annika wrinkled her nose. “Why do you have to use such big words all the time?” Then she giggled. “Did you see any cute boys?”
Lately, Annika had started talking about Caleb Penner. All the time. Katy couldn’t figure out what Annika saw in the gangly, big-eared boy. She thought about the boys who had imitated her “good morning” and laughed when she asked what a block was. They might have been cute from Annika’s viewpoint, but they hadn’t been cute to her. “Not really.” She set a dry dish on its shelf and reached for a plate.
Annika’s jaw dropped. “With all those kids? No cute boys?”
Katy shrugged, rubbing the towel across the plate’s flowered face. “I didn’t really look, Annika. You know what the deacons told me—keep myself separate.” She sighed and her hands stilled on the plate. “It’s going to be hard because there are so many kids. Walking in the hallway…you can’t even get through without bumping people. And they’re so loud.” She remembered the bell. For the first time she realized why the class-change buzzer was turned up so high—otherwise no one would hear it.
“But did you enjoy it at all?”
Katy closed her eyes, seeking an enjoyable moment. She looked at Annika and grinned. “Yes. When I got to put my name inside the cover of the textbooks. Kathleen Lambright. That means those books are mine for half the school year, maybe the whole year. And I can open them and read them and learn from them whenever I want to.”
She danced toward Annika, swinging the tea towel. “And the English teacher, Mr. Gorsky, said we’ll be diagramming sentences. He showed us an example on the board, where a prepositional phrase became an adverb in the sentence, modifying the verb. And he didn’t even mind when I asked him what it meant to modify a verb. He said—”
“You are so weird, Katy.” Annika shook her head, her mouth pursed up like a prune. “All your learning…What good will it do?” She held her hands outward, indicating the kitchen. “When you’re finished over there, you’ll come to a house like this one, marry a Mennonite man like your dad, and spend your days taking care of a family.” She tipped her head to the side, crunching the ribbon against the shoulder of her green dress. “Is knowing how to…to diagram a sentence with adverbs and prepositions going to make you a better wife and mother?”
Katy stared at Annika. Watching the teacher’s hand form the lines of the diagram on the whiteboard in blue marker and then write the words in place had thrilled Katy. Words! And learning better ways to put them together! Wouldn’t learning to diagram sentences make her a better writer? Why couldn’t her best friend be excited with her instead of throwing cold water on her enthusiasm?
Swallowing her hurt, Katy formed a soft reply. “Learning more about the world and finding new ways to do things can only make me a better person. And that means I’ll be a better wife and mother, don’t you think?”
Annika sighed. “I wish you were here during the day, so we could see each other. Do you realize we’ve been together almost every day since we started school? Even in the summers we’ve gotten together. I missed you today.”
Katy swallowed. She’d missed Annika too. She’d missed having a friend to giggle with and eat with and be with. But then Annika’s comment—You are so weird, Katy—repeated itself in her mind. Would it make any difference if she were here or at the public high school? Either place, someone thought she was an oddball.
“I better go help Dad with the milking.”
“All right.” Annika rose. “Maybe we can get together on Saturday? Walk down to the creek and catch crawdads?” She hunched her shoulders. “Caleb might be fishing…”
Katy sighed. Caleb again…“I’ll probably have to help Aunt Rebecca in the quilt shop, but I’ll ask.”
“Oh, yeah, I heard she was mad about you going to school instead of working for her. She’d been counting on you.”
Katy didn’t need a reminder of Aunt Rebecca’s disappointment. The woman had made her feelings quite clear. Katy followed Annika to the door. “Thanks for coming by.” But was she really thankful? Annika’s visit had only managed to stir up annoyance.
“Okay. See you later, Katy.”
Katy watched Annika go, and that familiar sting attacked the back of her nose. She’d been so happy to find her friend on the little stoop, but now she was happy to see her leave. She pinched her nose, sending the sting away. She trudged to her bedroom to slip into her oldest dress, which she wore in the barn. Her gaze fell on the backpack resting against her desk. Learning was so important to her—important enough to petition the deacons for special permission to attend high school. But was it important enough to disappoint so many people? Dad needed her; Aunt Rebecca needed her; even Annika seemed to need her. Was she doing the right thing by going?
You are so weird, Katy. The sting in her nose returned, bringing with it the mist of tears. She pressed her fists into her eye sockets as she fought the urge to dissolve into frustrated wails. She didn’t fit at the high school with her Mennonite dress and little white cap; she didn’t fit in Schellberg because of her desire to learn. God, is there anyplace I belong?
Chapter Four
“There you go, Katy-girl. I’ll see you around five.”
Katy waved good-bye to Dad and then stepped from the dirt street onto the sidewalk that ran the length of Schellberg’s limited business district. She stifled a yawn. Only a little after nine o’clock, and she’d already put in a good three hours of work between helping with the early morning milking, fixing breakfast and cleaning up, and doing two loads of laundry. When she finished working with Aunt Rebecca, she’d have to take the clothes from the line, iron everything, and get it put away before making supper. She sighed. Would she ever have time to herself?
Her journal had lain in her desk drawer, neglected, since the first day of school over a week ago. Her fingers itched to record her thoughts and feelings about the events of the past days, but responsibilities ate up every bit of time. And complaining won’t change it. Setting her mouth into a determined line, she clumped to the door of Aunt Rebecca’s shop.
The little bell hanging over the door tinkled a welcome when Katy entered the crafts and fabrics shop. The whir of Aunt Rebecca’s sewing machine from its spot in front of the window abruptly stopped. Aunt Rebecca glanced at her watch and made a sour face. “The shop opened ten minutes ago, Katy. I expected you earlier.”
Katy held her tongue. Aunt Rebecca was a complainer—nothing ever suited her. Telling her aunt she had other responsibilities would only lead to a lecture on honoring every commitment as doing it unto the Lord. Katy had listened to many similar lectures in the past, the most recent one last Saturday when she’d dared to mention she needed to leave early so she could write a “My Favorite Summer Memory” essay for her English class before preparing Dad’s supper. She had no desire to be scolded again. It was better just to apologize and move on.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Rebecca.”
Her words didn’t hold much remorse, but Aunt Rebecca nodded and flapped her hand toward the curtained doorway at the back of the neatly arranged shop. “Well, you might as well get started. I have a stack of fabric bolts on the work table in the back. Cut the first ten yards of ea
ch bolt into fat quarters and package them.”
Katy didn’t need further direction. She’d been helping in Aunt Rebecca’s shop since she turned thirteen—the age deemed old enough to handle responsibility. She pushed the yellow gingham curtain aside and entered the organized workspace. Once behind the curtain—and out from under Aunt Rebecca’s watchful gaze—she allowed herself a rare moment of pouting.
She whisked the length of pink calico across the work table and reached for a yardstick and scissors while inwardly grumbling. Just how many responsibilities did one girl need? The day after her thirteenth birthday, Gramma Ruthie had stopped sewing Katy’s dresses. She’d also ended her daily trek to the farm to prepare meals, do laundry, and clean.
All Dad had to do was see to the cows.
All Aunt Rebecca had to do was run her shop—her oldest two girls, fourteen-year-old twins Lola and Lori, did the housekeeping.
But Katy ran a household, sewed her own clothes, helped with milking, helped her aunt, and did homework! Surely less was expected of every other girl in the community.
Snip, snip, snip…She trimmed away eighteen inches from the bolt, cut the long strip crosswise into two halves, then set the pieces aside. She measured the next length, her mind drifting to the stack of homework awaiting her: Twenty algebraic equations to solve, a dozen compound sentences to diagram, a short report on China’s exportation to the United States to research and write, the parts of a maple leaf to label…
“Katy!”
Katy dropped the scissors onto the wooden tabletop and clapped her hands to her beating heart. “Aunt Rebecca, you scared me.”
“I meant to.” Her aunt scowled from the doorway. “You’ve been standing there for a full minute, staring into space and doing nothing.”
How do you know? Were you wasting time standing there watching me? Katy bit the end of her tongue to hold the words inside.
Aunt Rebecca pointed to the work table. “That fabric won’t cut itself.”
Katy's New World Page 3
