Part 7 (2/2)

Mistress folds her arms and again says to Clarissa, ”Did you hear me, Miss Howe? Do you want me to call in Mr. Dobbs and have him stretch you across the desk? The Position, Miss Howe.”

Clarissa stands there, mouth agape, not believing that this is going to happen to her. She looks over at me. It's gonna happen, Clarissa, believe it. I run my sleeve under my running nose and shrug. Better get down and get it over with, I thinks. She shudders and bends over the desk. She don't have to lift her skirts 'cause she ain't got any on.

Mistress swings. Clarissa gasps and bolts upright on the first one, she shrieks on the second, she goes into a high howl on the third, and on the fourth, Miss Clarissa Worthington Howe, of the Virginia Howes, falls to the floor, sobbing.

And even though Clarissa's meaner than a snake, I didn't like seein' her get it. Not really.

At dinner, before the others come in, I am placed in one corner and Clarissa is placed in another. I'm sure neither one of us would care to sit down, anyway, not just yet. I try to present a military att.i.tude-head up, back straight, arms held straight to my sides. I don't know how Clarissa's handling this, 'cause I can't see her, being crammed in the corner as I am, but I'm sure her back's as straight as mine. Clarissa's a nasty piece of work, but she is game, I gotta give her that- who'd of thought she had that much fight in her? She whupped the h.e.l.l outta me, that's for sure, and me an old Cheapside sc.r.a.pper.

h.e.l.lo, wall. I sigh and suspect I'm gonna be real familiar with every spot and crack in this corner.

I hear the chimes being rung for dinner and I hear them all tromping in and settling down. Then I feel a hand lightly placed on my arm.

”Miss Trevelyne,” I hear Mistress say from her place at the head table. ”You will please sit down, unless you, also, wish to stand in a corner in disgrace.”

Amy withdraws her hand. Thanks anyway, Amy, I thinks, for the kindness.

Then there is a hush. Then a stir. What's going on? I duck my head and risk a look and what I see brings tears welling up in my eyes. Amy has placed herself in an unoccupied corner and stands there, presenting her back to her cla.s.smates and to her teachers. Through my filmy eyes, I resume my study of the wall and think on friends.h.i.+p.

During supper that evening, which was only marked by the loud rumblings in my belly, Amy again a.s.sumed her post. No one stood up for Clarissa.

Later, as we readied for bed, I took Amy aside and said, ”You did not have to do that,” and she said, ”Yes, I did.”

I was silent for a while and then I took her hand and turned it palm upward. ”Spit in your hand, Amy.” She is mystified, but she does it, looking at me with questioning eyes. I take my own hand and spit in it and then I lay my hand over hers, joining the spits and say, ”This is the beginning of the Dread Sisterhood of the Lawson Peabody. We will now swear to always look out, each for the other, for whatever dangers might lie before us, to never betray the other in any way, and only to help the other to find happiness and joy in this life.”

I clasp her hand tightly and say, ”So sworn, Sister?”

”So sworn, Sister.”

I had thought this day was over, but it wasn't. As we knelt for prayers that night, I noticed that my pillow was lumped up strange. I put my hand under it and found a package, neatly tied up. After all were in their beds for the night, I nudged Amy and we crept into the hallway and opened the package. It was fresh bread and b.u.t.ter and thin cuts of choice meat and some cheese and two little jars of pudding. On top was a slip of paper on which the simple words ”Thank you” were written.

The Dread Sisterhood of the Lawson Peabody sat down in the light of the moon and had a feast, and I, for one, knew that I would never again taste one quite as fine as this.

Chapter 6.

The morning after the fight, when we are all at breakfast, the girl Rachel gives me a note and I open it and it's from Reverend Mather saying I must come over to the church for counseling and guidance after cla.s.ses today.

Just what I need, I thinks. I look over at Clarissa to see if she got a note, too, but I don't see her reading one.

”I'm to get counseled and guided by the Preacher today,” I tell Amy.

”I do not envy you, Sister,” says Amy.

I knock on the door of the church and then push it open and enter. It is the main door and it opens on the back of the church, such that one is looking down the central aisle to the pulpit. The Preacher is standing at the pulpit, reading his Bible. I walk down the aisle toward him. I stop and wait, my hands at my sides.

”You will kneel down right there,” he says, pointing to a spot directly in front of him. There is no rug on the polished wood floor and it looks right hard, but I march over to the spot and kneel down.

”You will put your hands in a prayerful att.i.tude and pray silently for fifteen minutes, asking forgiveness for your disgraceful behavior yesterday.”

I put up the hands and close the eyes and pray for deliverance from this place. The knees set in to aching right off, and I find that fifteen minutes can be a long, long time.

”Very well, you may stand,” he says after an eternity of boredom and pain. I climb to my feet and put my hands behind my back and wait for what's next.

”What have you to say for yourself?”

”I got in a fight and I am sorry for it, Sir,” I say.

”That's all? That you are merely sorry for having savagely attacked an innocent girl.”

Innocent girl? Clarissa?

”Sir, there was two of us in that fight,” I say. Just look at my face, Preacher, for evidence of that! Innocent, indeed!

”The girl you a.s.saulted is an extremely well-bred young woman of the highest refinement. She would not have willingly entered into combat with you had you not physically engaged her.”

”So you ain't gonna counsel and guide Clarissa Howe?” I asks, almost gagging with resentment.

”I gave her my condolences and conveyed my concern for what she had been through,” he says. He sets his mouth in a prim line and folds his hands before him. ”We prayed together for your salvation, so that you might see the error of your ways.”

I roll back my eyes at the injustice of it all. Please, G.o.d, let this he over soon.

”You will maintain a respectful att.i.tude, young woman!” he warns. ”Remember where you are!”

”Yes, Sir,” I say, dropping my hands to my sides and coming to attention, my eyes straight ahead.

”That is better,” he says. He looks at me carefully for signs of disrespect, but I let none show. He looks at me for a long time and the silence hangs in the gloom of the church. Presently, he leaves the pulpit and comes down to where I'm standing in the aisle and walks slowly around me. I hold the military posture, but I don't like him behind me where I can't see him. What if he should hit me? What if...

I'm relieved to see him come back into my sight.

”While I would usually ascribe an incident as occurred yesterday to the hysterical vapors common to the female,” he goes on in a musing way as if he'd been thinkin' on it a while, ”in your case I believe it is different. I believe the sordidness of your early life has affected your judgment, your character, and perhaps even your very soul.”

He goes back up to the pulpit. ”We must pray together. Back on your knees.”

Thump.

It went on for hours, it seemed-praying and reading from the Bible and more praying and sermons on evil and sin and me, always back to me, me and my early life, me on the s.h.i.+p, me and how I got here, me and the devil that's in me till I was dizzy and ready to keel over in a dead faint.

Finally, after one last long prayer delivered with his one hand on my head and the other stretched out toward Heaven, he freed me and I ran back to the safety of my school.

Chapter 7.

<script>