After Herbert's exit, the scene turns more serious as the negative changes to Pip's nature become more and more apparent. Joe insists on calling Pip “sir,” and soon after he explains his reason for the visit—to give Pip a message from Miss Havisham that Estella wishes to see him. Then Joe gets up to leave.
“But you are not going now, Joe?”
“Yes I am,” said Joe.
“But you are coming back to dinner, Joe?”
“No I am not,” said Joe.
Leigh Ann moves close to Margaret and takes her hand. People in the audience actually set their forks and knives down to listen.
“Pip, dear old chap,” Leigh Ann, as Joe, starts, “life is made of ever so many partings welded together, as I may say … Divisions among such must come, and must be met as they come. If there's been any fault at all today, it's mine. You and me is not two figures to be together in London; nor yet anywheres else but what is private, and beknown, and understood among friends. It ain't that I am proud, but that I want to be right, as you shall never see me no more in these clothes … You won't find half so much fault in me if you think of me in my forge dress, with my hammer in my hand, or even my pipe … And so God bless you, dear old Pip, old chap. God bless you!” Leigh Ann touches Margaret's Pip on the forehead and then turns and walks away, joining Rebecca and me in the wings. Margaret is alone onstage, and she looks positively haunted by Leigh Ann's last lines. She turns to the audience to deliver her short final monologue.
“I had not been mistaken in my fancy that there was a simple dignity in him. The fashion of his dress could no more come in its way when he spoke these words than it could come in its way in heaven. He touched me gently on the forehead and went out. As soon as I could recover myself sufficiently, I hurried out after him and looked for him in the neighboring streets; but he was gone.”
The auditorium is silent. It is as if people are afraid that breathing might break the spell.
We all run out to join Margaret for our group bow, and the audience—even the eighth graders—explodes into cheers and applause. When it finally dies down, we duck behind the curtain and practically knock over Mr. Eliot, who is about to introduce the next group.
Except for an overwhelmed and underprepared substitute back in the fifth grade, I have never seen a teacher cry, but there is Mr. Eliot, wearing that silly beard, eyes welling.
“Girls, I don't know what to say. I figured you'd be good, but that was beyond all … expectations, if you will.”
Pun intended.
* * *
Another victory for the Red Blazer Girls—we win the award for best skit! Mr. Eliot hands us each a shiny new hardcover copy of Nicholas Nickleby. I have just the spot for it in my room.
My mom looks so proud, and I am really stunned when I realize that Dad is still there, too. He had planned to leave after our skit, but when he saw how good we were, he said he had to stay to see us take the prize. He gives me a big hug, and suddenly it's my turn to fight back the tears.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Margaret hugging her grandmother and then taking her by the hand, introducing her to everyone. When we all converge near the center of the room, Malcolm and Ms. Harriman, both in tweed, make their way toward us.
Ms. Harriman hugs us each in turn. “Girls, you were wonderful! I can't remember having a better time, and you absolutely deserved to win. Margaret and Leigh Ann—what can I say? Truly, truly remarkable.”
“And this …” Malcolm steps aside to reveal the woman standing behind him.
“You must be Caroline,” I say. She is so beautiful that I suddenly feel a bit awkward—I am still in men's clothes and makeup.
“You look just like you did when you were sixteen,” Margaret gushes.
Caroline laughs, her eyes sparkling just like her father's. “You're very kind. And this is my daughter, Caitlin.”
Caitlin, who is wearing the green sweater of our rival school, Faircastle Academy, takes a shy step toward us. “I'm very pleased to meet you,” she says with an impressive—and authentic—British accent.
Ms. Harriman is beaming with pride. “Caitlin, meet Sophie St. Pierre, Margaret Wrobel, Rebecca Chen, and Leigh Ann Jaimes. These young ladies have been a tremendous help to me the past couple of weeks. I cannot imagine how they had the time to prepare for this and do all that they did.”
“We are so happy to finally meet you, Caroline,” Margaret says. “We have a little something for you.”
“You do?”
Ms. Harriman beams. “A birthday present. From your grandfather.”
“From … from Grandpa Ev?”
Malcolm tells her about the birthday card and promises to fill in the important details later.
Then Margaret takes the ring off her finger and holds it out to Caroline. “Sorry it doesn't have a nice box or anything, but this is it—the Ring of Rocamadour. Well, one of them.”
At first, Caroline seems afraid to touch it. After a few seconds, though, she lifts it from Margaret's hand and holds it up to the light to get a clear look at it. Her hand moves to her mouth, and then to her heart; some feelings she must have kept inside for fifteen years bubble up to the surface.
“I don't know what to say. This is so overwhelming. It's beautiful. And you girls—”
“They did it all,” Ms. Harriman says. “They are quite special, the whole bunch of them.”
I give Malcolm a playful nudge. “Well, we did have a little help.”
Malcolm scoffs. “Nonsense. I hardly lifted a finger. You girls deserve all the credit. And on that note, I have a surprise for you. Elizabeth has brought to my attention a certain situation that might cause the breakup of the ‘Red Blazer Girls,’ as I believe you refer to yourselves. In light of everything that you have done for us, that would be totally unacceptable. A travesty, even. So I did some digging around at the university, and I learned that we have an opening for a nurse in our clinic—a position, I believe, that would be very similar to the one your mother is leaving, Miss Chen.”
Ms. Harriman cuts in. “We sat next to her during the show and had a very nice talk. She is very proud of you, Rebecca.”
“I would be happy to put in a good word for her,” Malcolm says. “I can't make any promises, but I still have some pull at the university.”
Rebecca throws her arms around Ms. Harriman and shakes Malcolm's hand. “Thank you, thank you! She is an awesome nurse.”
“My pleasure. Have your mom give me a call if she has any questions.”
“And Rebecca,” Ms. Harriman adds, “be sure to tell your mother about the art lessons you're starting next week.” More hugging, more screaming, as it all really sinks in: the Red Blazer Girls are here to stay.
I know I said one more chapter and this
makes two, but it's my favorite part, and it's
my book, so there
We say our good-byes to Ms. Harriman, and to Malcolm, who has somewhat improbably become like a favorite uncle to us, and to Caroline and Caitlin, who would look so much better in a red blazer than in that green Faircastle thing. Hmmm. We are about to head backstage to change into our regular clothes when Margaret tugs on my sleeve.
“What?”
“Haven't you forgotten someone?”
“Uh, I don't think so. What are you talking about?”
“Raf.”
“Oh my God. Raf! I completely forgot. Is he here?” Margaret takes me by the shoulders and spins me so that I face straight back.
He is leaning against a wall, arms crossed. My heart begins to beat a little faster, and I feel my face go red. “God, he must hate me. We totally dissed him.”
“We?” says Margaret. “I talked to him right after we got the award. You are the only one doing any dissing here.”
“You'd better get over there, girl,” Rebecca says. “If you don't, I might. He looks really cute tonight.”
“Okay okay!” I don't remember walking across the room, but somehow I find myself in front of him.
/> “Hey there,” I say, wittily and with feeling.
He doesn't say anything, but he does tilt his head back ever so slightly and smile—just a little. The effect is devastating. Does he know what he is doing to me?
“I'm sorry, Raf. I just—”
“What are you sorry about?”
“You know. I mean, I ignore your calls and texts all week, and then you come all the way over here to see us, and then I ignore you some more.”
He shrugs. “Brought you something.” He hands me a bouquet of flowers still wrapped in their paper.
I peek inside. Pink roses—my favorite. “Thanks. I mean, wow, this is so sweet.” I go to hug my friend as I've done a million times, but this time it feels … different.
And then he does it. Right there in front of God, Margaret, and everybody. He kisses me.
When it starts, I am so surprised that I still have my eyes open! And I swear that the cliché is totally true—my knees actually start to give out. When we finally pull apart, I must have the stupidest look of all time on my face. I still can't say anything. And I can't stop smiling, smiling, smiling. My first real kiss.
“Are you guys okay over there?” Rebecca shouts as she and Margaret and Leigh Ann run toward us, laughing and babbling incoherently.
“It's about time,” Margaret says.
That Margaret. She's always right.
Case closed.
Acknowledgments
I am grateful to the many friends, colleagues, family members, and students who have encouraged and inspired me and helped make this book possible. A few individuals deserve extra helpings of appreciation: to Rosemary Stimola for her enthusiasm and willingness to look past the flaws in my first draft, and to Cecile Goyette at Knopf for her faith, insight, and suggestions, and for teaching me a thing or fifty about writing. To Beth Gratzer, Erin Flaherty, Joanne Ptak, Ariella Grinberg, Dorothy Luczak, Fabiane DeSouza, Saoirse McSharry Denise Coleman, Tammy King, Steve Holub, and Gretchen Bauermeister, all of whom were early readers, sounding boards, and critics. And Lynn Palmer, wherever you are: I'm still trying. But most of all, I thank my wife, Laura Grimmer—best friend, confidante, and enabler-in-chief for fifteen wonderful, amazing years.
a cognizant original v5 release october 14 2010
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TEEB AEGR SEUN ONOA OHRH ILNA VNUE
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Table of Contents
In which I enter an alternative universe where burly men read Cosmo and giant house cats roam sacred corridors
In which I share a chair with a dead guy and listen to an amazing story
In which I play fast and loose with the English language and we add a recruit to our ranks
In which a small piece of the past comes to light, and we learn the shocking family secret that William Shakespeare doesn't want you to know!
In which Margaret declares herself to be a moron, causing me to wonder what that would make me
In which Otto Frank provides moral guidance, and mold spores are redeemed
In which I vow not to complain about the card and $10 my grandfather sends me for my birthday
In which I determine that King Tut lives in the blue pyramid and smokes unfiltered Camels
In which “the boy” makes his first appearance and I make a bold move
In which Margaret reveals her human side
In which a certain green-eyed character makes an appearance
In which I solve the first piece of the puzzle (and perhaps take more credit than I deserve-what's it to ya?)
In which the astounding shallowness of my character is revealed
In which Wile E. Coyote and Balto fight to the death. Well, not really, but wouldn't that be cool?
In which Margaret discovers my dirty little secret
In which I learn what stuff dreams are made of on a Saturday morning at the Metropolitan Museum of Art
In which our “school project” seems to be taking on a life of its own
This one is for all the people who say they've never used geometry in real life
Don't read this chapter until you have solved the problem in the previous chapter yourself. Seriously. Just think how shiny- clever you'll feel when you've aced it
In which I play with feeling and actually enjoy a crosstown bus ride
Oh my God. We're learning new math concepts on a Saturday night
In which, as hard as this may be to believe, new heights (depths?) of geekdom are reached
In which we learn that teachers are actually human beings. Who knew?
In which I learn that ice cream saves lives
In which I go on a dream date
In which Mr. Eliot makes himself useful once again, Margaret makes herself invisible, I make a connection, and we all make a new friend
Remember when Margaret said something about us being the world's worst snoops? Well, forget that she ever said it. Please.
Can you imagine? Margaret and me, suspects in a crime?
In which I learn so much more than I need to know about men's shoes
In which my life is turned upside-down, topsy-turvy, helter-skelter, and torn asunder
In which my day grows curiouser and curiouser and … I withhold a teensy- weensy piece of information
In which I learn that gold houses, superpowers, and Maseratis are nothing compared to good friends
Sometimes a little spit is all you need
In which I give the performance of a lifetime. Cue the “APPLAUSE” sign!
Not really long enough to be a chapter, but after everything that happened in the last couple, I need a little break
This is the one you've been waiting for
I know I said one more chapter and this makes two, but it's my favorite part, and it's my book, so there
Acknowledgments
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D. Michael Beil Page 19
