“Go on, talk,” Sue insisted.
“Okay.” Ellen’s cheeks were a fiery red. “My mom said maybe I’d better not pal around with you. You’ve got too many big ideas.”
Sue whirled on Cathy. “And does your mother agree?”
Cathy shook her head. “I told you she wouldn’t listen. Besides, she knows you wouldn’t do anything wrong”
“I guess she knows more than Mr. Mack, then. And all the rest of them.” Sue kept her voice cool, although she was burning with the desire to cry. The hurt inside her was like a raw, open wound.
“Sue,” Cathy pleaded. “Don’t be like this, please. Ellen didn’t mean it. She’ll apologize. We don’t want you to be hurt. We like you a lot. Really.”
Sue fought to control her tears. The sympathy in Cathy’s voice . . . She didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for her—when she’d done nothing. “Well,” she said, and her voice sounded ugly to her ears. “I don’t like you. I hate you . . . both.” She pivoted and went for the rest room at a run. No one . . . no one . . . no one would see her cry. She pushed open the door. A haven . . .
The high pitch of chatter hit her ears. The Crowd—Judy’s crowd—they were gathered around the washbasins. As Sue came into view their talk ceased—cut off suddenly as if someone had switched off a radio. And Sue knew they’d been talking about her. No haven here. She looked at the lunch bag she still had in her hand, dropped it untouched into the wastebasket, and turned to leave. Where could she go—to be alone? Then, as suddenly as the chatter ceased, it started again. And now the girls were surrounding her.
“Tell us,” Maxine asked, slipping her arm through Sue’s. “Did Mr. Mack read you the riot act? What really happened Friday?”
“A mouse in disguise,” Judy said, but her voice was not unfriendly. Then, in a slightly warmer tone: “Come join the gang.”
Sue looked around the group in wonderment. No scorn here, but a sort of admiration. They seemed to evince a genuine interest. There was an air of camaraderie. They weren’t regarding her as a freak—a bad girl. They accepted her—thought her excitingly one of them. She felt her tears subside, unused, unneeded. She found herself turning dizzily gay and talkative as she filled in the details. She almost wished Dad had swung on the manager as she dispelled that rumor. Even Judy didn’t show any hostility when Dave’s name was mentioned. Sue had barely finished her account when the bell rang and the girls picked up their purses to return to class. Just then the door opened and Cathy and Ellen walked in.
“We came to ——” Cathy began.
Sue felt all her shame of the morning sweep back over her. The hurt was open and raw again. She looked around the two girls, over them, then made her way past them to the door, saying nothing until she passed Ellen. Then, with affected politeness, she drew back her skirt. “Sorry,” she said, her voice as cold as dry ice, “I didn’t mean to dirty you.” She went out into the corridor, not waiting for anyone.
She was surprised when Maxine caught up with her just as she reached her home room. “Listen,” whispered Maxine, her face bright with anticipation. “Judy said maybe I could nominate you for Jay Dee.” She hurried off without waiting for a reply.
Sue took her seat thoughtfully. A Jay Dee. That was an exciting new thought. The club that was the most of the most—the inner-sanctum sort of circle. The most exclusive and secret club at Taft. And formed just by Judy and her intimate friends. But why, now, should she suddenly get to be a part of that circle?
For the rest of the school day, Sue paid little attention to her subjects. It was one of those afternoons when the class was working on social studies, so by keeping her binder open and pencil in hand, she was able to retreat behind a kind of wall while she tried to sort out her thoughts.
Her mind was a whirlpool. She tried to go back, step by step, over the whole painful day. The session with Mr. Mack . . . Ellen and her stinging words . . . Cathy, who tried so hard to be peacemaker . . . Maxine and the Jay Dees.
To be honest, perhaps she’d lashed out at Ellen before Ellen started at her. After all, if she were in Ellen’s place, she’d be awed and curious if Ellen and Cathy got into trouble. But she hadn’t done anything wrong. That’s what hurt. Sue walked slowly to English.
This business of being hurt, though—it was surely snowballing. She’d been hurt—and in turn hurt Ellen and Cathy. She’d unerringly picked the words that would crush Ellen the most. She knew Ellen detested her figure. Why, oh why, had she called Ellen on her “flat, fat, shapeless chest”? If only she could take the words back.Even apologizing wouldn’t erase the words.
What if she were asked to be a Jay Dee? Just the idea of having her name put up for the club was stimulating, flattering. Why would they ask her? Because of Dave? Or because of the show episode?
That show business! There was a play, Sue recalled, in the bookcase at home. Shakespeare’s, she thought, called Much Ado about Nothing. And that’s just what this was, much ado about nothing. And the person who’d blown up the situation to gigantic size was—that horrible Mrs. Cannon.
Sue sketched a fat face on the corner of her binder paper. She gave it horns and squinty pig eyes. She studied it. A good likeness, she decided, only not as hateful as that woman really was. She slashed across the picture with her pencil. This way, that way. That’s what she’d like to do to her right now.
“Working hard?”
Sue looked up to see Miss Wilson standing beside her. She instinctively tried to cover the drawing with her hand.
“A she-devil?” Miss Wilson asked.
Sue nodded.
“Hmmmm.” Miss Wilson studied the drawing. “You know, we’ve got one in our neighborhood—just like that,” she smiled down at Sue. “But you’d better get on with your school work now, young lady.”
Sue flipped the page over and resumed her work. One in every neighborhood? How had Miss Wilson known she was drawing someone she knew? Maybe there was one in every neighborhood—but none was as horrible as her gossipmonger.
When the dismissal bell rang, Sue picked up her books and went straight to the music room for her violin. She wouldn’t even look around for Cathy and Ellen. They probably didn’t want her around, anyway. She’d go home a different way. She had to think things out.
She walked slowly past the green lawns, the gay flower borders. She stopped and watched some children in a game of hopscotch. Right now she’d like to change places with them. No painful problems, no confusion. Just happy. They simply enjoyed themselves like Jay and Kit did. If she could only undo a little, step back a little, get her life uncomplicated. If only she could erase the whole day and start over.
As the outline of her home came into view Sue knew exactly what she’d do. She’d talk to Mom and Dad about it all after supper. She’d tell them about Cathy and Ellen—how unkind she’d been. She’d tell them about Mr. Mack. And together the three of them would be able to solve the problem. Because that’s the way Mom and Dad were—always understanding. Maybe—maybe she wouldn’t even wait until tonight. She and Mom could start working things out right now—just as soon as she got in the house.
Sue felt as though her burden had already shifted—grown lighter. She burst through the front door, eager now to start the sharing. She stopped short. There sat Mrs. Cannon—with Mom—in the living room.
“Hello, darling,” Mom greeted, giving Sue a brilliant smile. “Come join us in a cup of tea.”
Sue forced a smile. “Guess not, Mom. I have loads of homework.” She nodded slightly in Mrs. Cannon’s direction. “Hello.”
Mom laughed. “Come now, Sue. Surely you have time for a brownie. You never pass them up.”
Sue shrugged and dropped her books on a chair. She sat down without a word.
“My, what a bright, pretty girl,” simpered Mrs. Cannon. “And how was school today?”
She put on a falsely bright smile. “Wonderful,” she breathed. “Just super.” Was it surprise she saw in Mrs. Cannon’s eyes? And why was the woman here
today when she so seldom visited?
“Sue really likes school,” Mom said as she passed Sue a cup of tea and plate of cookies. “She works so hard. Why, she’s almost earned her Block T. And——”
“Where are Kit and Jay?” Sue broke in.
“In the yard.” Mom turned back to Mrs. Cannon. “I suppose I shouldn’t say it in front of her, but Sue is a model daughter. We’re so pleased with her.”
Sue watched Mrs. Cannon as her mother talked. The woman looked back at her with smirking, knowing eyes. She was baiting them, that’s what she was doing. Didn’t Mom know it? Didn’t she remember about the show Friday? Sue realized with a start that Mom didn’t know about Mrs. Cannon’s being at the theater. Sue had forgotten to tell her.
“Oh, Mom,” Sue broke in desperately, “Mrs. Cannon doesn’t want to hear this stuff.”
“But I do,” said Mrs. Cannon. “It’s always a delight when parents can be proud of their children. It happens so seldom in this age of juvenile delinquency.” She stood up. “But I have to get home to start supper. So——” She walked over to Sue and gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Sue and I are good friends,” she simpered, giving Sue a wink. “Why we even have a secret.”
Sue felt a blinding rage surge through her. She stood up quickly, almost upsetting the teacup in her hand. “A secret?” she asked, keeping her voice low although she felt like screaming. “About the show, you mean? Mom knows that—and anyway, it’s hardly a secret, is it, Mrs. Cannon, after you’ve told the principal?”
“Sue.”
“She means about the show, Mom, Friday night.” Sue kept her eyes on Mrs. Cannon. “She saw me get kicked out—and called Mr. Mack.” Sue felt a vindictive pleasure as she saw Mrs. Cannon color.
“Why—why——” Mrs. Cannon sputtered. “That fool.”
“Mr. Mack didn’t tell me you were the one who called.” Sue felt as though she couldn’t stop talking now. “He just said a woman did. And you’re the only gossipy old busybody who knew—why can’t you leave me alone?”
Every inch of Mrs. Cannon’s bulky body quivered with rage. “I—why I’ve never been so grossly insulted in my life.” She flounced to the door.
“Sue!” Mom sprang into action. “I insist you——”
“No!” Sue was shouting now. “I won’t. I won’t say I’m sorry. I’m not. She is a busybody. A fat, snoopy, gossipy old busybody.” She turned and fled up the stairs and slammed into her room. She stood there, leaning against the door, breathing hard, almost dizzy with her surging emotions. She could hear faint murmurs at the front door. Then the door closed. She went over and sat on her bed, waiting for Mom’s steps on the stairs. Instead, she heard the back screen door slam and the eager, excited voices of Jay and Kit. They bounded up the stairs and burst into her room.
“Look. Fuzzy caterpillars,” Jay cried. “We’ve got three.”
“Get out,” Sue screamed at them. “Get out. Go away.”
Kit and Jay, their eyes startled, their faces scared, backed out the doorway. Sue got up from her bed and slammed the door shut after them. She could hear them tear down the stairs, calling Mom. Sue’s hand groped along the top of the door frame for the key that she’d never used. She put it in the hole and locked the door. The tears that had threatened all day long came in a torrent as she threw herself on her bed and buried her head in the pillow. She heard the twisting of the doorknob through her sobs.
“May I come in, Sue?” Mom’s voice was calm.
“No. Go away. Please go away.”
“Sue, dear, I’d like to talk to you.” Mom was insistent.
“No! I want to be alone. Alone, alone, alone.” Sue could hear her voice rise hysterically. “Stop picking on me. Just leave me alone.”
Sue held her breath, waiting. What would she do if Mom demanded she open the door? She heard Mom try the door again—and then her footsteps receded down the hall.
The door! The closed, locked door. Sue eyed it now through her tears. It stood there, a solid symbol. It was a barrier between her and Mom. Between her and the world. It was an insurmountable barrier. Now she couldn’t ask Mom and Dad to help. The door was a problem. She was a problem. The world was a problem. She hated the world and the world hated her and she wished she were dead!
8.
Steady Does It
By the time Dad came home from work, Sue was through with her tears. She felt so cried out she thought maybe she’d never cry again. As she exchanged her school clothes for her wear-around-the-house togs, she saw the pink dress. How she’d love to slip it on and go down to dinner in it! Maybe it would give her the morale boost she needed. But that was being silly. Mom and. Dad would be sure to raise their eyebrows and think—what would they think? At any rate, it was not the thing to wear tonight. Sue patted the dress gently and shut the closet door.
Conversation at the dinner table was strained. Dad could tell she’d been crying, she knew. But no one said anything. Even Kit and Jay didn’t mention her reddened nose. After supper was over and the dishes done, Dad called her into the living room. Now she was in for it!
“I understand you were inexcusably rude this afternoon,” Dad began.
Sue nodded.
“Any explanation?”
Sue shook her head.
“You mean you have nothing to say—no reason to give?” Dad’s eyes were probing.
“I just got mad at Mrs. Cannon being such a buttin-sky,” Sue finally said. “Mom must have told you.”
“That’s no excuse for bad manners, Sue.” Dad sounded stern. “As a member of our family, you are to conduct yourself as a lady at all times.”
“Yes, Dad.” Sue kept her face expressionless.
“Try to understand the woman, Sue. Sometimes if you know why people act the way they do, you can excuse them.”
“Excuse spying and ratting?” Sue seated herself on the arm of the overstuffed chair and glared at her dad with angry eyes.
“If you are referring to the show episode, Sue, I’d hardly call it ‘spying’ to witness what went on in the lobby. You were on public display.” Dad tamped his pipe and lit it, waiting, apparently, for Sue to go on. When she didn’t, he continued carefully, “As for ‘ratting,’ as you call it, I’ve heard little or no explanation of that accusation.”
Sue remained silent.
“Try to remember, Sue, Mrs. Cannon is a lonely old woman. She has only her house, her garden, and her neighbors to keep her interest. And so she is more than naturally curious about the affairs of others.”
“Well, she can just leave me alone.” Sue felt her anger boil to the surface again. “I think she’s just a sneak.”
Dad shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ve hurt yourself more than her with your outburst.” He stopped, then seemed to think his next words out carefully. “Would you like to tell us what happened at school?”
Sue looked at her father. It wouldn’t be easy to tell right now—Dad seemed much more sympathetic to Mrs. Cannon than to her. She shook her head.
“All right.” Dad looked resigned. “I’m sorry you feel this way. You may go to your room now.”
“Thank you.” Sue said the words with exaggerated politeness. She walked up the stairs slowly. She closed the door to her room behind her. The door. It was really shut now.
In the days that followed, neither Mom nor Dad mentioned Mrs. Cannon, nor did they inquire much about school. They just seemed to maintain a quiet watchfulness.
Now it was Thursday, violin lesson over with, and just a little time to spare before dinner. Sue sat at the playroom table with Kit and Jay across from her. She squeezed at a lump of clay in her hands.
“Make a bunny, Sue,” demanded Kit.
“No, a car,” said Jay.
“First a bunny, then a car.” Sue laughed as she looked at their eager faces. She handed Kit a piece of blue clay. “Here, Kit, you make the ears.” She pushed some red clay to Jay. “You can make the wheels.”
Sitting here playing with Jay and
Kit, Sue felt happier than she had in days. Maybe it was because they made things so simple. And life these days seemed decidedly complex.
Sue broke the clay into two blobs and placed the smaller on the table. She rolled the bigger piece between her palms until it was smooth and round. If only it were as easy to smooth out her problems as it was the clay. Most of the time, now, it was as though she were two people. The new Sue and the old one. The new Sue was the one who laughed and talked too loudly, the one who linked arms with the girls in The Crowd and walked about the schoolyard at noontime. Sometimes they walked four abreast—Sue, Maxine, Judy, and Laura. Other times it was just she and Maxine. Or else they met in the washroom to laugh uproariously at jokes. Or huddled in groups to talk in low whispers about love and life and boys. The new Sue ignored Cathy and Ellen. But they ignored her, too.
She put down the molded body of the bunny and picked up the smaller piece. The old Sue, the one she was being right now, that one was so comfortable. If only that one would be at school. Then she would stop laughing at jokes she didn’t understand. And she’d tell the girls they were all wrong about love and life and boys. There was that book in her room, Facts of Life and Love for Teen-agers, that said they were wrong. And she’d go up to Cathy and Ellen and say, “Hi, I’m sorry I was so stupid. Let’s be friends again.” If she could only break through Mom and Dad’s watchfulness and say. “Hey, there, this is your very own Sue, remember? And I love you.” But no, life had turned into a sort of remoteness, a frightening aloofness. Only at moments like this—sitting here with Kit and Jay—did she become wholly herself again.
“Aw, that’s no bunny head.” Kit grabbed the clay from Sue. “It’s still just a round ball.”
“Goodness.” Sue took the clay back. “I was thinking. I’ll do belter.” She pushed in the eye spaces and molded the nose. “There,” she said, setting the head atop the body. “Now it’s ready for the ears.”
Kit tried to attach the ears. Jay flattened out the four balls he’d made for wheels. Sue worked quickly at a blob of red clay, forming the car. No matter what, she understood, she was going to get a bid to the Jay Dees. Maxine told her today it had been put in the mail. Maybe then she’d feel as if she really belonged somewhere.
The Pink Dress Page 6
