Cyrano
The sun seemed to awaken with a grin on its golden face the next morning and despite the thoughts which had kept Claire awake until twelve the night before, she somehow couldn’t help but be cheerful.
“Just listen to the birds sing!” Trudy said.
Claire, who was usually the more romantic of the two, looked up with surprise at these words.
“Yes I know! Isn’t it a picturesque day? I think it shall be a lovely Friday, don’t you?”
She smoothed out her quilt and then popped her pillow at the head of her bed.
“Yes!” Trudy said with twinkling eyes. “I think it shall be, Claire darling. Judith invited me-and you too of course-to accompany her and her group to the spa tonight and then we shall do something else-a secret surprise she calls it.”
Claire’s smile faded a little and she walked to the window looking upset, though only the sun saw.
“Do you think it is right to sneak out after we’ve been sent to bed? I know that Judith does it often times-I heard her just the other night outside our door-but do you think we should participate?”
Trudy rolled her eyes behind Claire’s back.
“We’ve gone over this before Claire. I think it is fine. As a matter of fact, I know it is fine. Nobody has ever come to any trouble over it or been expelled or even lost their good grades. Is that what you’re worried about-your grades?”
Claire jerked away from the window.
“No! As a matter of fact I care nothing for them. Grades are only marks on a paper from one imperfect person to another and the only rating I care for is that from our heavenly teacher.”
She stopped here, realizing that she was preaching, and then began again a little less sure of herself.
“But no matter how many times Judith has sneaked and not been caught it doesn’t mean that it is right. God sees us just as he hears our wicked thoughts for which we are never scolded.” And she turned back to the window, half regretful and half proud-just as she had felt when she argued with Malvina.
“Well,” Trudy said after a moment. “I guess I’ll go alone then-I mean-with Judith and the other girls of course. You can stay home if you really aren’t up for fun.”
Claire felt as if she had just taken a blow to the stomach. She turned around angrily and looked Trudy in the eye.
“Not up to the fun?” She said raising her voice. “Then I will find something better to do than linger in the company of those who aren’t…aren’t up to being truthful and good! Someday you’ll learn that there is more fun and satisfaction in being good-even if you aren’t popular in the eyes of Judith Appleby!” And she whipped back to the window and stared lividly at the sun.
After a moment she heard the door slam and through watery eyes saw that Trudy had gone. Schisms happen so suddenly sometimes that the two people don’t even realize what harm they have caused.
An instant later someone knocked on the door.
“Come in!” Claire called without turning around. She assumed it was Trudy back to have the last word.
“A letter for you ma’am.” Said the unstable adolescent voice which Claire knew to be dear Andrew Orchards. He was a year below Claire in school so she wouldn’t have known him if he weren’t “the school page”-an important boy indeed.
Claire walked to him and smiled, trying to seem happy for his dear little sake and took the letter gratefully.
“I expect it’s from my brother already.” She said, though if she would’ve stopped to think she would’ve realized that it was much too soon for a letter from New Haven.
“No ma’am,” The wiry fellow replied. “It is an internal message.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Claire asked.
“From inside the school Miss Winters.”
And she looked at envelope and lo! It was from Mr. Rueben!
“Oh!” She said. “Thank you.” And she sent him on his way with a peppermint in his cheek.
She then sat down on the window seal and ripped the letter open savagely, breathing hard as she read. Oh! It was only her journal entry. She folded it up and put it in her history note book. But before she threw the envelope away, she realized that there was something written in tiny print on the inside of the flap. Sitting back down she read what it said:
Dear Miss Claire Winters or, the Tall Girl:
I was very curious when I found your assigned journal entry along with my roll sheet. It is unbeknownst to me whether this was a mistake or some sort of girlish flirtation but in either case, I found the entry fascinating. Your example of your feelings as the tall, awkward redhead was exactly what I had speculated when we first met. Actually, what you reminded me of was a scene I saw once in the Amazon jungles. It was simply a branch covered in little green caterpillars in cocoons, but one had hatched and was a brilliant blue butterfly. She flew around aimlessly, waiting for her friends to hatch and not knowing what to do in the mean time, because she was the only one who had matured into a majestic image of beauty. And this is you dear Miss Winters, for though some of your peers are older than you, you are wise beyond your years and though you are now the alien, it is because they have fallen behind. You will learn that the majority is nearly always the worst group to belong to. And dear girl, don’t feel alone, for in some ways I am, as you would say, tall also. I will say that I am sorry you feel so uncomfortable, but I will not say that you should feel any other way. Beekman has her issues, I’ll agree, so let’s stand tall together while others stay placidly in their cocoons!
Good day, Clifford Rueben
P.S. "Those who forget history are destined to repeat it"
