The Scandal
“Claire! Wake up!” Trudy said, shaking her room mate mercilessly. “I know that we stayed up late last night but Mr. Maboni will murder us if we’re late!”
Claire finally rolled over, and when Trudy saw her face she wished she had never bothered. Claire was the color of a black eyed pea and looked rather like one with dark circles under her eyes. When she looked at Trudy her eyes were bloodshot and when she spoke her breath was hot and her tongue discolored.
“Trudy, I’m ill.” Said Claire, pointing out the obvious.
“I see that!” Trudy exclaimed, standing up. “Shall I call the nurse?” Trudy asked.
Claire moaned in agreement. Off Trudy dashed to the nurse’s office. From there she went straight to class, worried about her friend all the while. In science class Trudy cringed as she heard Malvina’s voice behind her back.
“Looks like Little Miss Perfect is playing hooky today.” She said with a shrill laugh.
Trudy whipped around, her hair seeming to be redder than usual in order to match her temper.
“Claire is ill!” She snapped.
Malvina, who obviously hadn’t noticed Trudy, just looked irritated and walked away with her cronies.
Mr. Rueben was disappointed to see Claire’s empty seat in history class.
The day passed at a snail’s pace. The nurse was a big-hearted lady, and she rushed to Claire’s room and took her temperature in a jiffy. Claire was soon feeling well enough to go to class, but Nurse Knife (pronounced Kah-nee-fee) insisted that Claire not leave her room all day. This depressed Claire, who, after sleeping in, felt as frisky as a foal and wanted to leap out her little window and run through the woods.
“No, no, no no!” Mrs. Knife shushed Claire’s arguing. “You must stay in bed little one and get your rest!”
So Claire moaned and rolled over so that Mrs. Knife would leave and then, once she had, Claire got up, made her bed and took to busying herself within her room. She was very good at busying herself, never was she bored, always was she organized. As a matter of fact, Claire was so good at managing her things that the other girls almost envied her. She wrote to her family and then even to her old friend Cybil for one last time. She washed their little window and ironed their little curtains. She then read over the history pages for today and then looked over her science book and algebra problems. Half way through the day, Trudy appeared (to Claire’s utter delight) with lunch and a stack of papers.
“This is your chicken casserole and all the things which we were given in class so far. There’s an awful lot from Mr. Maboni and several odd things from your uncle, but luckily Mrs. Tops didn’t remember to give us anything!”
Claire grinned, looking perfectly healthy.
“Well great! Now I have something to do all day. Nurse Knife won’t let me out of the room today. I’ve already done all of my letter writing and tidying up. Tell the girls I said ‘hello’ and that I am feeling much better.” Claire said, taking the food and the schoolwork and putting them on the little desk.
“Fine then,” Trudy said with her hands on her hips. “I better go now. I will miss you at recess though. I suppose I’ll have to find someone else to jog with.”
Claire made a sort of a sad smile like a mother showing sympathy to a silly child.
“See you tonight!” They both said, and Claire was left to do her lessons “at home.”
At one o’clock she set to work after putting her dishes outside the door, but at three o’clock she was surprised to find herself sitting bored once more. Her assignments were all completed and she felt quite certain that she would make good grades on each of them. That afternoon, Trudy returned that evening quite exhausted by her day and found that her ceiling was strung with seven different strands of paper chain people. The strands of paper which had been folded and snipped to look like dozens of children holding hands were taped from one side of the papered ceiling to another like decorations for a child’s birthday party. Claire was sitting at her desk surrounded by a new chain, this one was made to look like butterflies but they were quite lopsided.
“I got a little bored with the people after a while.” Claire laughed. “I am bored with the whole business now!” She gushed, lifting up her childish endeavor.
Trudy rolled her eyes, slinging her books onto her bed and shutting the door behind her.
“I am glad you’re feeling better Claire,” Trudy said, suddenly serious. “But I would’ve expected you to be getting some school work done.”
“I did,” Claire said. “I finished it all earlier today.” She stood up and pushed her chair in as a sign of completion.
“Really?” Trudy asked with her usual hands-on-hips position.
“Yes Tru, I am done. Actually, I am ahead.” She said flapping a complete paper on Germany which had been assigned just that day.
Trudy’s jaw dropped. “Now I feel like I’ve been wasting my day!” She said, taking the paper and looking it over as if she wondered if it were genuine.
Feeling suddenly embarrassed by her accomplishment, Claire changed the topic.
“Did anything interesting happen today?” She asked as she fell to her knees on their little rug.
Trudy flopped down on her bed and sighed.
“Yes!” She gushed. “There was quite the fiasco at recess.” She reported.
Claire slid a pretty wooden jewelry box out from under her bed.
“Really? Do tell.” She said as she opened it, revealing Cyrano, scampering around at the sight of sunlight. He was wearing a felt vest which Marie had stitched him and was nibbling on bit of cheese which Jacqueline had sent in secret for the “little dear”.
“Well! Word was out that Judith-our Judith Appleby-and Tom Kimble have been holding hands and talking to each other like sweethearts! One girl said that she thinks it is sinful, another girl said that she thought it perfectly ‘natural’ and then Rebecca Payton said that it wasn’t for any of us to judge…and that I should ask you.” Trudy finally took a breath and looked at Claire expectantly.
“Ask me what?” Claire asked, surprised by the sudden end to the story.
“What you think. Is it or is it not proper for two sixteen-year olds to be holding hands-courting like.” Trudy said seriously.
Claire sat down and slouched, Cyrano cuddled in her cupped hands.
“Why would you ask me?” She finally said.
“Claire-don’t be ridiculous. You’re always the peacemaker. You know, the keeper of the laws and the know-it-all goody-two-shoes…”
“Alright! I understand. I try to do what’s right.” She abridged.
“Exactly.” Trudy agreed. “The girls are always seeking your advice. It’s the best on the market.”
Claire suddenly blushed and then chuckled at Trudy’s lingo.
Trudy’s strawberry colored lips curled into her adoring smile.
“Really? I didn’t have any idea what sort of respect I had gained.” She said grinning.
Trudy nodded.
“Well, with that cleared, what shall I tell the girls?”
The next day, Mr. Rueben came into history class looking melancholy, but he cheered up with one glance at the roll sheet.
“Ah!” He said, scanning the tops of student’s heads. “There you are Claire Winters! It is wonderful to have you back.”
Claire bowed her head politely and smiled.
“Good morning Mr. Rueben.” She said, tempted to call him “Uncle Clifford.”
“Today we will discuss civil wars.” Mr. Rueben said.
Sighs flitted through the air.
“That isn’t history!” Malvina complained.
“Yes it is,” Trudy said. “Anything that happened in the past is history…even if it wasn’t very long ago.”
Mr. Ruben smirked. “If you think that The American Civil War is too fresh on your mind Malvina, perhaps you would like to tell us what years it took place during?”
Malvina looked disgusted.
It was a cruel joke, but everyone knew what Malvina would say.
“I don’t know sir.” She said.
“Oh? Then I think I’ll continue the class.”
When the class was over, Claire felt very out of sorts. She hated wars and didn’t like to think about them, though if her uncle knew that she ever refused to think about anything he would be ashamed of her saying that someday someone would take advantage of her ignorance. Ignorance is never an excuse! Ignorance is a murderer! The ignorant punish themselves! He would say. But Claire couldn’t help it-wars made her depressed. Nevertheless, she had to admit that the lesson was interesting. All of this was floundering in her mind as she walked out of class and into the courtyard for recess. Still in her daze she sat on a bench while Trudy chattered with Marie and Jacqueline. Then suddenly, her daze was shattered by a call.
“Claire!” Trudy said, beckoning her impatiently.
Claire stood up and walked to her friend, all the while still dreaming, eyes fixed on the sky above the tall courtyard wall. When she arrived at the place where Trudy was standing, Claire looked down and found that a crowd of girls was encircling her.
“Claire,” Trudy was saying. “Talk to the girls.”
Judith was looking defensive. Looking back, Claire always imagined her with her fists up, but this was slightly exaggerated. Rebecca Payton, a scrawny fourteen year-old looked relieved at the sight of Claire while Etta Mast looked wide eyed and Iris Lighting rolled her eyes as if she thought the whole thing babyish.
“Oh, about Judith?” She asked. All of the girls nodded vigorously.
“Of course!” Trudy whined.
“Well, Judith,” Claire said, looking less nervous than she was in fact. “Did you and Tom hold hands and treat each other as sweethearts?”
Judith blushed.
“Yes,” She said. “Tom and I are fond of one another.”
Claire nodded slowly.
“But was it not Tom who “broke your heart” at the ball the other night and gave all of his attention to another girl?”
Judith looked a little angry, but not at Claire, at Tom.
“Yes, but Tom hasn’t done it since then. The eleventh-grade girl won’t have him and so he is entirely devoted to me.”
Claire thought for a moment.
“What is that you like so much about Tom?” She asked.
The girls giggled.
“Are you blind Claire? Tom is angel-faced!” She gushed.
Claire frowned. “But shouldn’t there be more to a relationship than looks?” She snapped back.
“What are you referring to?” Judith said, hands perched on her hips.
“Lots of things! Love for one.” She said.
“Oh, but of course I love Tom!” Judith said, almost offended.
“Does he love you?” Claire asked.
“Of course! If he didn’t he would be sweethearts with someone else.”
“Oh? Would Tom be satisfied with many other girls? With that eleventh-grader if she’d have him or the next student who catches his eye?” Claire said, making even Trudy nervous now.
Judith squirmed a little.
“Now, I can’t blame him for wanting to dance with that girl…she was very pretty.”
“But you aren’t unique to him Judith!” Claire burst. “He likes you but he doesn’t love you…not anymore than he loves that other girl or another girl or a model in a magazine! You’re a beautiful girl Judith and you aren’t stupid! Don’t give your heart to someone who hasn’t given it back, or someone who will take his own heart and relocate it at any given moment! This won’t last, and if it doesn’t last, what good was it? Your heart has been played with and broken and before you’ve repaired it, you’ll toss it to another little boy to do the same. It is unhealthy and foolish and wrong Judith and for your own sake you should get out of this silly, childish game before damage is done.”
Claire, eyes aflame, took a deep breath.
Judith was breathing hard also.
“Claire! You’re right-I am not a stupid girl. I am smart enough to know that you can’t be what you seem. You try to pretend to be perfect and you try to act like you care only for virtue and decency but you must have loved a man before!” Judith said, her voice roaring with drama toward the end.
Claire shook her head and look of sympathy entered her eyes. It was the same look she had given Pete Jenkins when she asked for her hat, but just as Pete had run away in his own display if foolishness, so would Judith Appleby.
“They aren’t men,” Claire said. “They’re only boys and boys are only a vague prediction of what they may be as men. And Judith-please. I don’t try to set myself above you, I don’t even try to offer advice, but I do believe that things such as love and truth are much more important than you seem to think…more important than escorts to a school ball or, or even grades on a test!”
Judith looked to her friends for support.
“Ha! Don’t try to lead us on Claire! If love is so important to you, then why did you break Pete Jenkins’ heart? And if it is truth you believe in, perhaps you have some explanation for the pet you keep under your bed and out of the sight on inspection day?”
