Poetry and Dance
Claire had hardly recovered from the cheeky, poorly written poetry when it was time to finish up algebra class and go upstairs to get ready for The Beekman Boarding School Autumn Ball. Claire was to wear her “dear pink satin” for the first time, Trudy an emerald green velvet which, in contrast to her coppery hair made her look “as cute as a Christmas card” as Claire put it. But the usual giddy joy of “ready getting” was dampened by the event of that morning. Claire only smiled to apply her blush and Trudy, who was usually a chatterbox, spoke only to ask for a lending of a pair of gloves to which Claire said:
“Hm? Oh, whatever you wish for Tru.”
But, as it is with some girls, no matter how many mistakes or tears or how little time they’ve dealt with in the process, they arrive looking as if they’d planned this borrowed, mix-matched, ironed twice, third’s a charm outfit for months. And this was the case with Miss Winters and her accomplice; Miss Richards; when they stepped in the doors of the cafeteria (which was magically transformed into a ballroom by the Decorating Committee) looking as stunning and beautiful as models only sweeter and more naïve to their own charm.
“Who’s that?” Said some loudmouthed fellow at the punch table.
“The governor of Connectiut’s daughter-Lady Claire they call her.” Said another boy. “And Tru Richards.” He added.
“Tru?” Said the first. “She looks…” (Catching himself) “Different than I remember.”
Then the second: “Remember? We saw her an hour ago in Algebra dimwit. But don’t bother pointing out how gorgeous she is to me! Move out of my way-I am going to ask her to dance the first.”
And the young man brushed past his friend, leaving a full glass of punch on the table cloth.
“Excuse me Trudy,” He said, less confident than he was a moment ago. “Would you dance the first dance with me?”
Trudy blushed but wasted no time in blurting out that she would, thank you.
Jack Cameron (for that is who it was) meandered meekly away.
Shortly after Claire and Trudy had taken seats, the music began and Jack reappeared as if from nowhere and stole away with Trudy. Claire was immediately alone because Judith and her friends all had escorts who they had come in with and, naturally, danced their first dance with. But before Claire had time to be lonely, she heard a group of boys laughing and she looked to see who it was. There was a little huddle of young men in front of the sandwich table, and who was that in the middle of them all- the one cracking the jokes? It was Mr. Rueben! Claire stood up, nosily trying to get a better view and catch a snip of conversation. Immediately, Mr. Rueben’s sharp eyes caught hers and he beckoned for her to join them. Claire, who was not used to marching into tight circles of the opposite sex, ventured hesitantly toward the sandwich table.
“Hello Claire,” Said Mr. Rueben warmly. “I suppose you know these lads?”
Claire nodded, smiling nervously though she really was only acquainted with their faces.
“Good then! We were just talking about a lovely poem which was informally published earlier today.” And Mr. Rueben merrily.
“Oh?” Claire said, still shy.
“Yes-I do believe you’ve heard it by now. Supposedly you’re the one who took it out of print.” He said with a wink.
Claire blushed. The poem about Mr. Rueben!
The boys chuckled in agreement as if they too had heard about her speech and the bell ringing and all.
The most important thing to remember as you imagine our protagonist in this situation is that she was still quite pink.
“Yes, I am sorry Mr. Rueben. I wanted to apologize personally-my classmates only meant to be funny, they can sometimes be insensitive…” Claire began.
“Funny? That’s not what you said earlier-or so I’ve heard. And you have no reason to apologize. As a matter of fact-I should be thanking you, not that the poem is of any consequence to anything at all, nor was it the first piece literature written about myself.”
Claire just said “oh” and nodded and smiled.
The song struck its last chord and Claire looked up as if she expected to be asked to dance, but all of the boy just sighed and rested their palms on the table until someone started up the conversation again. These boys apparently had no intention of dancing whatsoever and simply wanted to chat with Mr. Rueben. After a while the conversation picked up wind and Claire found herself joining in. To her surprise, her views were much welcomed, though at first she received several glances as if the boys were surprised to see that a female had any intelligence at all. Mr. Rueben looked more and more pleased as time passed, and acted like Claire were some sort of niece of his-as he had when they first met-that he had reason to be very proud of. Soon the conversations actually revolved around her opinions and then she started one herself, and Claire found that she was discussing serious topics including politics and philosophy and yet having a splendid time and feeling very fulfilled. Judith glanced over at them more than once and then pretended not to notice how many gentlemen had gathered around the new young lady. Trudy, though she thought much of Claire, never looked at her once, for she was on the far side of the cafeteria dancing again and again with Jack and having her own conversation. Pete came and joined Claire’s circle after a while, but it was evident that he didn’t know what he was talking about, and soon he left, but not without Claire on his arm. They waltzed around the room gracefully (for Pete was a fine dancer) and Claire, who usually loved the free feeling of the waltz, wished to be back in her seat in the middle of Mr. Rueben and the other boys.
“I’m sure you’re glad to be away from that dull conversation,” Was the first thing Pete said. “So I suppose that makes me your hero.”
And he grinned his crooked, sincere and somehow charming grin. He had a way of looking mischievous and adorable at the same time, always making Claire go back and forth from wanting to slap his face to pat him on the head like a puppy.
“Actually,” Claire said slowly as she spun. “I rather enjoy that type of conversation.”
Pete kept smiling. “Sure you do, you like anything that is polite.” He said, on the edge of an insult.
“No, I am actually interested in what Mr. Rueben and the others had to say, though I am glad to dance also.” She said, not dropping her poker face.
“Oh good, I’m glad to hear it. I was afraid this was a ‘courtesy dance,’ you know, a charity.” Pete said, smoothly spinning away from a collision with another couple.
“A courtesy dance? There’s no such thing. I love dancing really, and I wanted to.” She said, unsure if she were lying or not.
“Ah, I see. So you would dance with any of the fellows here? Any fellow anywhere?”
He asked slyly.
“Of course. It is poor etiquette to turn down a boy the first time.” Claire said, slightly defensively.
“Oh, so it is a matter of manners?” Pete said, signaling at the band behind Claire’s back to keep the song going.
“No! That isn’t at all what I meant. It would be rude to turn you-or any fellow-down the first time, but that doesn’t mean that I would have turned you down if I had the choice. I’ve told you, I wanted to dance.” Claire said irritably.
“Oh, alright then. I am glad you’re enjoying yourself so.” Mr. Jenkins said sarcastically.
Claire said nothing but simply kept the beat and wondered when for heaven’s sake this song would be over.
“I still think that you’re obsessed with right-doing and etiquette Claire.” He said after a silence as if he couldn’t bear the conversation ending that way. He also said “Claire” as if they were intimate friends, and this annoyed his partner.
“If you truly believe that, then I’ll prove it to you!’ Said Claire, raising her voice a little. “Good night Pete, I think I am done dancing for the time being.”
And she released her partner and escorted herself back to her seat (which the gentlemen had saved in hopes of her return) and immediately acted entranced in the conversation at hand. To relate to you the feelings which brewed in the heart of Pete Jenkins or the thoughts in the mind of the same would be rather like explaining the plumbing inside the walls of the cafeteria, for the pipes were there but none of the dancers or chaperones present could see them or know anything of them. So I will simply tell you that Pete shook his head and smiled and went to ask someone else when the song finally died down and another song started up again. Claire perched on her chair and rather enjoyed herself even though she was shaking a little with the anger which Pete had aroused. Soon Trudy approached the huddle.
“Claire, come with me dearest. Jack is making the funniest impersonations and you just have to see him!” She said, ignoring the audience of debaters.
“Wait Trudy,” Claire said, not looking up. “I can’t agree with you simply because I am ignorant to the male mind, but as a female I will tell you that I think that children are less valued in our day and age then when the last generation was young.”
Trudy’s eyes grew wide.
“What are you talking about?” She asked, quite bewildered.
“Oh-sorry Trudy. I was in the middle of talking with Walt about the value placed on children and the effects of modern literature made available these days.”
Trudy, mouth fallen in a dumbfounded fashion just nodded once, very slowly, and returned to Jack. But a moment later she returned to nag her to come again, this time with Jack, but she was still preoccupied and so Trudy and Jack took seats in the circle (though only Claire made any notice of them) and listened in on the conversation as they were “up to giving it a go.”
“Excuse me!” Jack said when one of the debaters scooted into a tighter circle during a heated moment and pushed Trudy quite out.
He was a senior and so Jack couldn’t possibly know who he was, but nobody, no matter what grade they were in was going to be allowed to discount Trudy while Jack was alive!
The twelfth grader didn’t hear Jack.
“Hey!” Jack said, giving the young man (who was a good deal bigger than Jack) a good shove in the shoulder.
Trudy was very relieved at what happened next, for she was very afraid that Jack was going to get into a fight. If it would have been Claire on the other hand, she would have been disappointed otherwise.
“Well!” Mr. Rueben said merrily. “We are at a ball ladies and gentlemen, despite the fact that some of us were required to attend, and by definition a ball features social dancing so let us do that so we may go home and have a cup of tea and a bit of shut eye before class.”
The senior, who’s name was Davy Keats, had just turned around in his metal chair and glared at Jack when Mr. Rueben said this and it became obvious that the teacher was much esteemed by this crowd, for Davy immediately seemed to forget all about the little Freshman behind him and listened intently to Mr. Rueben. Then, all of the boys stood up and stretched their arms, stacked their chairs and asked a nearby, seemingly random girl to dance as if only to obey their elder. For Jack, it was the girl who was gazing lovingly at him. Though whether she had been gazing lovingly or hatefully, Jack would have danced with her for fear that “some other guy” would. Claire took this opportunity to slip off to the powder room, for as she had just established a reputation of equality with the men (and mankind in general it seemed), she felt suddenly awkward at the thought of dancing with one of them and hastened hurriedly to piddle in with the other runaway girls. One was Judith whose unreliable beau had dismissed her at the sight of “an eleventh-grade doll,” and another was a girl who was in tears at the sight of her punch-stained gown. Claire offered her comfort and wisdom to each of them and then returned to the ballroom. Judith returned shortly after and took Claire’s advice by having a good time “despite it all” and dancing with other boys, and then Viola Day (who had been the weeping girl) reappeared with an apron on and served punch in a way which made all of the volunteers wish that they had thought to wear an apron, she looked so busy and important.
The moment Claire returned, she saw to her delight that all of her male companions were still dancing, but right at the door she noticed Mr. Rueben putting something in the wastebasket.
“Why aren’t you on the dance floor?” Mr. Rueben asked, seeming suddenly like one of the “normal teachers.”
“Oh,” Said Claire, a little flustered at the sight of him. “I was in the powder room.” She stammered.
“The powder room eh?” Mr. Rueben said straightening his waistcoat which seemed to disagree with him. “And how many noses did you have to powder that it took you ten minutes?” He added slyly.
“The powder room, Mr. Rueben,” Claire said regaining her confidence again. “Is always a safe haven for girls with damaged hearts or outfits and what goes on there must remain in the confidence of women only.”
Mr. Rueben made one long nod and said: “Ah.”
Claire smiled. She was rather fond of her teacher.
“May I have the great honor and delight of dancing with you?” He asked with a grand bow.
“Yes sir, I believe you may.” Claire said in return.
And so Mr. Rueben took his position and led her gently into a dance which they both knew well.
“I hope this isn’t awkward for you,” Mr. Rueben said. “Dancing with an old man.”
Claire tossed her head back and laughed aloud, for that is often a good way to fend off awkward silences.
“You’re not an old man.” She argued.
“Well,” Mr. Rueben said. “In that case, I hope that it isn’t awkward for you to dance with someone who could be your father.”
Claire frowned as if confused.
“You couldn’t be my father,” She said. “I’ve already got one of those. You’re more like the uncle I never had.”
Mr. Rueben looked pleased.
“Really?” He asked as if this were a new and strange idea. “So you think of me as an uncle?”
Claire nodded.
“Yes,” She said. “I wonderful uncle!”
And they both laughed as Mr. Rueben led her back to her seat.
“I have a niece!” Mr. Rueben announced when the returned to the place where their group had once again formed like debris settling on the bottom of a lake.
“Claire?” Trudy asked, still linked to Jack.
“Yes!” Mr. Rueben said. “And I am so glad! I never knew I had her until just a moment ago, but she is most delightful and I am regretful that I missed the first fifteen or so years of her life.”
“Now I am the only uncle-less one.” Trudy pouted.
“Don’t be selfish!” Claire snapped. “You’ve got Mr. Gooseberry!”
