Chapter 6 Part 2

The Tall Girl

Everyone settled into there seats and then the ghost called Hush passed over them.
Mr. Rueben stepped into the classroom, shut the door quietly behind him and then stood at the front of the room with his palms supporting him on his desk. He looked at the boy on the far left of the very back row. He stood there for a moment staring at this boy as if he were going to make an announcement specifically to him. The boy squirmed awkwardly until Mr. Rueben finally spoke.
“Hello John Hampton,” He said with a nod. “Louis Gray, Marie Eager, Quentin Shoe, Iris Lighting, Malvina Dakota, Charity Sourton, Regina Wemberly, Yvette Soaps, Danny Pye, Ogden Leaf, Bob Snow, Trudy Richards, Claire Winters, Judith Appleby, Jacqueline Shiner, Marie Smith, Ronald Poe, Donald Poe, Garry Hobble, John Acton, Jack Cameron, Mable Harris, Wanda Tyler, Tilly Bing, Paddie Jones, David Jones, Walt Shores, Thomas Harp, Luke Rye, Edgar Englishman, Frank Woods, Agatha Rivers, Sara West, Ingrid Ingles, Poppy Yar, Rebecca Payton, Viola Day, Betsy Ram, Pete Jinkins, Opal Divine, Rosa May Barton, Etta Mast, Hurma Schlotskin, Lucile Light, Allen Jacobs, Martin Coins and hello to you too Andrew Orchards.”
There was a roaring applause from every student when he was done. Everyone whooped and cheered and smiled. Mr. Rueben put up one hand but did not smile. Claire thought he looked much less happy than he had the day before when she had first met him.
“Why…” He began, but the students were still loud. When they were calm he began again. “Why is it that that was so exciting to you?” He asked. But at that moment, Mrs. Tops opened the door.
“Mr. Rueben! What ever is going on in your class?” She asked looking ruffled.
“Nothing dear Mrs. Tops. The children were only cheering for the roll call.” He said coolly.
“Cheering for the what? They never cheer for roll in my class…did you bribe them about something Mr. Rueben?” As she asked this she wagged a finger at him and her jowls swung back and forth like that of a basset hound.
“No ma’am Mrs. Tops.” Mr. Rueben assured her. “What I said was true.-isn’t it?” He said looking toward the children. They all nodded and smiled.
“Well then!” Said Mrs. Tops all out of questions. “Carry on Mr. Rueben.”
“Thank you for checking on us Mrs. Tops. Have a lovely afternoon.” He said.
Mrs. Tops shut the door before he was done speaking.
“Well then!” He said with his first smile. “Who wants to answer my question?”
Several hands popped up like weeds.
“Yes! Miss Richards?” He asked looking at Trudy.
“Because all of the other teachers and everyone just call us “class” or “child” and I for one like the name my mother gave me.” She said proudly.
There were murmurs of agreement.
“Yes Mr. Shores?” He said looking Walt in the eye.
“Because now we know that you have a good memory and you won’t forget to dismiss us like Mrs. Tops.” He said smugly.
Everyone snickered except for a few rambunctious boys who laughed aloud.
“Now, now now!” Mr. Rueben said putting up his hand again.
Everyone grew sober and expected him to scold them, but he simply said:
“Let’s move on.”
“Queer teacher huh?” Someone said.
He then opened his desk and pulled out a large stack of papers and began to slip one onto each desk. They were blank.
“Please write a journal entry.” He said. “About you and what you have been doing or thinking about as of late.”
A few students moaned, others were happy to have such an easy assignment and Claire picked up her pen and began to write.

CLAIRE WINTERS 4:10 PM THURSDAY SEPTEMBER 24TH 1886
Dear Diary,
I used to go to Pine Creek Elementary Academy-a school so different than Beekman that one of them must be something that isn’t a school for they cannot belong in the same category. When I was in third grade I was in a play called The Fairy of the Will-o’-the-wisps.
I was an elf so I simply scurried around during the choir sequences but I watched as the some of the other girls (or fairies rather) sang, standing in rows. They were lovely in netted costumes of teal and pink. But, I will always remember one girl who stood on the top row. It was cruel of them to put her on the top row because she was good head taller than all of the other girls. She also had red hair and very fair skin to make her even more obvious and she looked so miserable up there, twisting her fingers and hunching over that I shook as if it were me.
And now dear journal, I feel as it I am that girl. I am participating and nobody is laughing but recently my mind has run mad with thoughts that I am sure nobody else in this classroom are thinking and I am set apart and strange and feel awkward and different just like that tall girl.
I wrote to Marvin yesterday but I am afraid of his reply. I told him about the “groups” as they are called. The unity of Beekman is a myth-I swear. These poor girls think that school is real life-because we live in as if it was. And they think that they are all doing well and going to be successful simply because they are taking these classes and getting good grades. And those who aren’t “succeeding” think they are on death row. Then I wrote to him about th…”

But just then, Mr. Rueben said: “Times up!”
The class continued and Claire was disappointed to find that it was a little more like all of the other classes. He simply talked and taught, but somehow Claire found it easier to listen to him than the other teachers. By the end of the class Claire had grown to adore her history teacher who ended the day with a skit of The Boston Tea Party. Everyone applauded when he chunked “packages of tea” (which looked oddly like volumes of history) into the tossing sea (which grabbed the tea with very human-like arms and fingers and gurgled so loudly, it almost sounded like laughter.) Claire walked out in a brown study, clutching her books to her chest with one arm, her other arm linked to Trudy’s. She heard someone say:
“He’s a quack but at least he’s entertaining.”
She then realized that Mr. Rueben had gone to Africa before this semester had begun and that today was the first time for most of the other students too. She felt a little peace of mind after his class, that is, until that night when she realized that she had given him her “journal entry” along with the roll sheet.

Chapter 6 Part 1

The Tall Girl

Claire backtracked a little to the front of the building and pushed open the door. Ah! What blessed fresh September air! She only breathed it during recess nowadays and that was only for an hour everyday. That period of time felt so scheduled that it was almost like being an actor-pretending to have fun from exactly four o’clock to five every day. By the time her mind was done re-calculating her algebra mistakes and finally beginning to wander into imaginative fantasies, the bell rang and it was time for Science. Casting these thoughts aside, Claire closed the heavy door gently and then trotted down the stone steps, but she only took two ladylike paces before the desire to run overwhelmed her and she was suddenly at the gate. Opening this was like dream. Suddenly she saw the road and “the real world”-something she had almost forgotten as of late. Miraculously, in her state of jubilee, Claire did remember to close the gate before embarking on her mission. She remembered all of Mr. Rueben’s directions and could also sense where to go just by sight and sound and soon found herself safely on Main Street and reading a pale green sign which said “The Hattery-the cherry on top of fashion.” On the sign there was a picture of a tall skinny lady wearing a hat shaped like a big red cherry. Claire pushed the door open and walked to the desk.
“How may I help you Miss?” Said a lady of multiple chins.
“May I please use your telephone?” Claire asked bravely.
The lady grinned and nodded.
“And no charge Dear-heart, as long as you tell your little friends that you’ve been at The Hattery.”
Claire smiled agreeably and went to the strange contraption on the back wall.
And then, suddenly she realized that she had no idea how to use it. Blushing, she looked back toward the desk. The woman was smiling at her.
“I’m-a-coming!” She said kindly. “You didn’t look like you had ever used one before.”
Claire just smiled and nodded, holding the “talk-into-piece” (as the woman called it) in her hand awkwardly.
“This should be very exciting for you dear.” The lady said putting a hand on Claire’s shoulder. She then told Claire how to speak to the operator: “Like you would to your great grandmother.”
“Marvin Winters at Yale University in New Haven Connecticut please.” Claire said in a loud, clear voice.
“Hold please.” The operator said dryly.
Claire nearly dropped the telephone! She looked at the lady (who was standing nearby) and grinned ear to ear. She stood there in this state until she heard another noise. It was an unfamiliar voice but she had missed what he said. Claire glanced anxiously at the hat-shop woman.
“He was just transferring you, dear.” She assured her.
Then there was a nerve racking pause and Claire looked at the square wooden telephone attached to the wall and saw it swirl around and fade a little. She felt as if she were in a dream! She had never done anything so strange in her life! At home her mother had no telephone-she said that she would never have any use for one- and the only neighbor who did was not an acquaintance of theirs. Mrs. Winters had dashed over once to telephone when she received a letter from her mother that her father was ill, but Claire had never used it and Mrs. Winters was so worried about her father that she didn’t talk about the telephone itself.
“Hello,” The telephone said. “Hello?” It said again, sounding slightly irriated.
Claire nearly panicked putting the telephone back up to her ear. The voice was familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time.
“Oh hello!” Claire said. “M-Marvin?”
“Yes-this is Marvin Winters…who is this?”
“This is Claire Winters-I mean it is Claire, Marvin! Your sister Claire!”
“Claire?! What are you doing using a telephone? I mean-is everything alright?”
“Oh yes! Everything is splendid…well I am fine. I just wanted to talk to you. I am homesick and I miss home…I mean I miss you a lot and school isn’t what I imagined after all.”
There was a short pause.
“I miss you too Pipsqueak. But your letters always make you out to be having a jolly time.”
“Oh but I am! I mean, I was. I have a good time and all but school is just…my opinions of it are just complicated.”
“Everything is complicated to girls. You’ll get the hang of it. You and Judy still friends?”
“Trudy.”
“Oh yeah. Are you and Trudy still friends or is that what this is about?”
“Oh no, it isn’t that at all. She’s a dear but she doesn’t seem to notice the issues with Beekman that I do.”
“Specify Pipsqueak. What issues? I haven’t heard anything but praise about it yet.”
There was the muffled noise in the background of boys being roudy.
“Marv-it was good to hear your voice but could I talk more about it through a letter?”
“Oh I see, someone’s with you. Well I wouldn’t want to think that you wasted any money…”
“Oh no…it has been paid for.”
“Well good then. I’ll be waiting for that letter.”
“Fine. Thank you Marvin.”
“Any time. You’ll get used to school Claire…good bye.”
“If you say so. Good bye Marvin.”
And Claire left The Hattery, unsure if she wanted to get used to it or not.

Early Telephone Operators

Chapter 5 Part 2

Injustice and Mr. Rueben

Claire’s eyes burned and turned pink. She sniffed back the tears. Why was she even crying in the first place? She walked through the yard and into the hall, down another and another until she reached the door to a place that the students called Victory Tower. She opened the heavy wooden door with its iron hinges and bolts all still intact from last century. She then ventured up the narrow spiral stairs, a little more anxious with each step. Was her request too great? What would the response be? But before she could clear this in her own mind, Claire was at the top of the staircase and the second door was looming over her. She clasped the iron knocker, shaped like a lions head and slammed it twice against the door. After a moment Claire could hear a shuffle and then a click as the door swung open. There stood a tall woman whom Claire had only seen twice and had never before been introduced to.
“Good Afternoon Headmistress Victory.” Claire said, bowing her head a little.
“It is not yet noon child.” Said Mrs. Victory. She was a long faced, long nosed woman who was pale and plain and snobbish. She acted so authoritative that you would’ve guessed her to be elderly but she was in fact only thirty-seven. Her grey-brown hair was always in a tight bun and her clothing was long and straight and modest without any curves or patterns or hints of fashion. But she wore closed black shoes with high heels making her seem rather like a long pole. Today her grey dressed matched the bags under her eyes.
“I beg your pardon Headmistress Victory, Good Morning.” Claire said with a quivering voice.
“Yes, what do you need?” She then asked as if Claire had kept her waiting. She didn’t bother to ask for a name and she couldn’t possibly know who she was.
“May I please walk to town and use the telephone to call my brother?”
The headmistress looked shocked and insulted for a moment and Claire almost expected to be slapped.
“Is it urgent? Is there some sort of emergency?” She asked.
“No ma’am. It is only that I miss him.” Claire replied frankly.
“Miss him? How old is he?” She asked.
“Twenty ma’am.” Claire said.
“Twenty? You’ll only be pestering him. He is and adult and adults live their own lives.” Mrs. Victory scolded. Claire felt her eyes burning again.
“No Ma’am! It isn’t that way at all with us. My brother and I are very close, he is my dearest friend.” She said desperately.
“Dearest friend! Hogwash! Little girls are friends with other little girls until marriage. I suggest you choose one of your classmates to be your ‘dearest friend.’ It would be proper and much less expensive.”
Claire then bent her head and began to cry.
“You must not have a brother.” Claire said between whimpers.
“Stop that child! If you really must speak to your brother than you may, but you must be back before next period or you’ll be punished. Now go! I am dreadfully busy.”
So Claire didn’t ask anymore questions. She dashed down the stairs and into the classroom hall. She had to find someone else to ask for directions to Hat Shop. She had decided to go back outside when one of the classroom doors opened and out stepped a teacher. He was tall and lean but not lanky and carrying a cardboard box with both arms. He had dark brown hair which rippled over his head and a matching beard. His eyes were storm blue. “Just like my hat.” Claire thought bitterly that night. Claire wasn’t sure if he had seen her yet.
“What’s the matter?” The teacher asked as if Claire were his daughter or some dear niece. He met her gaze as if he had been expecting to see her there. Claire wiped her eye and smiled a small smile.
“Homesickness.” She said softly. “I am going to The Hat Shop to telephone my brother. Could you tell me the way?”
The teacher set down the box he had been carrying. Claire couldn’t help but glance into it. There inside were several odd mechanisms which Claire decided must be some sort of strange musical instruments. She expected Mr. Rueben to ask if she had permission or not.
“What is your name?” He asked. His sympathy was almost too much-she was only a homesick schoolgirl after all.
“Claire Winters.” Claire said.
“Claire Winters eh? What a beautiful name for such a beautiful girl!” Claire blushed. She didn’t exactly consider puffy cry-baby eyes beautiful. “I saw you on my roll. My name is Clifford Rueben and I shall be your history teacher. I was absent for some time-an urgent trip to Africa actually-but I am back now-at your service.”
Claire’s smile grew a little.
“Nice to meet you.” She said. “But about the hat shop…”
“Ah yes! Walk down that road which goes down hill from here-the one that took you here, and then take a left. Keep walking down that road a short ways until you meet up to a paved street. Take a right there and walk beside the pavement-I wouldn’t want you getting crushed, and soon you’ll find that you’re on Main Street. The hat shop is called ‘The Hattery’ and it is the third on your right.”
“Thank you ever so much!” Claire said in an embarrassing display of girlish excitement.
“You’re…ever so welcome my dear.”

Chapter 5 Part 1

Injustice and Mr. Rueben

If Mrs. Top's class were a dish of peas, it would have had coating of film over the top from not being stirred for long time. Suddenly the film was punctured with, not a spoon but a bell."Well then," Said Mrs. Top's lulling voice. "I suppose class is over then. Where did all the time go? We were just getting to the interesting part-malfunctions in the brain stem."Claire blinked and looked over her shoulder to Trudy who was looking right back."Thank goodness!" She whispered, sliding out of her desk and gathering her things.Claire stood up and walked out with her. As she exited the room and began walking down the hall to the door, she thought about how nice she must look in her new hat. Her mother had mailed it to her just the day before and it was a lovely storm blue with a white ribbon.But poor naïve Claire! She scarcely noticed when suddenly she felt no ribbon on the back of her neck, and in a flash the hat was whisked off her head and a lanky figure blew past her."Pete Jinkins! You give that hat back this instant!" Trudy, ever alert, said in a threatening voice. "Claire is the daughter of a governor!"But Pete was already at the door. He held it open for the other students to trickle out and made a mocking bow with the hat so low that Claire considered simply tipping him over."M'lady." He said before he popped back up red in the face and grinning."Please Pete." Claire said, putting her small hand out for the hat.She was so serious, so sober and sincere! Her eyes were big and sad and begging.For a moment, Pete Jinkin's eyes nearly matched. His dark animated eyebrows fell and he looked at Claire as if he were ashamed. But then he pulled the hat over his crow hair and dashed outside toward the cafeteria skipping and singing "la la la" in a gross attempt of portraying a female. Trudy rolled her eyes and walked out after him, expecting Claire to follow.But Claire stood there for a moment. Jokes were one thing, but she had asked for her hat in all seriousness. How could he be so ungentlemanly?Once seated at the long table, Claire borrowed Trudy's hand mirror and patted down her un-hatted hair."Where's your new hat Claire?" Judith asked as she sliced her lamb chop."Pete Jinkins stole it from me." Claire said, looking up from her own meal with testy eyes."Oh, I should have guessed." Judith said. "Hey Marie, are you going to eat your roll?"Claire felt a pang of sadness. Was this a common occurrence? She looked around.One long table with fifty plus girls all dining and chatting and giggling and sipping.There were the nice girls and the girls whom Claire had been warned of.But beyond that there were other categories. Headmistress Victory referred to the table as "The Family Table." She was proud that all of her girls sat in peace together like sisters. Claire had been happy to see this during her first meal at Beekman, but now she saw it differently. They may have all sat at the same table, but they did not sit together. Claire was told to sit on the end toward the door which is where Trudy, Judith, Jacqueline, Marie and a couple other specific girls sat every day. Toward the middle was where Malvina and Regina and Charity and Yvette sat gossiping about boys. Then there was the group in the very middle which is where Mabel and Wanda and Tilly and Paddie sat. They hardly spoke at all but simply stuffed their faces. Then there were the girls who Trudy called "The Whizzes." They were the girls who cared for nothing but good grades and college. They sat and discussed papers and ways to get extra credit. This included Agatha, Sara, Ingrid, Poppy, Rebbecca and Viola. Then there were a few trouble makers and hoydens who wore their hair in plain styles and lived life for the sheer love of recess when they could run around and entertain themselves like boys by climbing and jumping and wrestling (though never in front of Headmistress Victory.) And then there were the girls who were in their own group simply because they didn't belong to any other group. The other girls refereed to them simply as "The Odds." This included Betsy, the poor farm girl who struggled in nearly ever class, Opal, the artist who nipped every friendship in the bud with a morbid or disturbing comment, Rosa May who spoke to no one at all but drummed on the table and stared, Etta, who was so heavy that she had to pull up her own, larger chair at lunch and fell asleep sporadically every day (and was dozing at this moment with her head on her own soft shoulder), and Hurma who was from Russia and spoke poor English but cried often in loud foreign voice for "Papa.""May I be excused?" Claire asked Mrs. Inches who stood at the end of the table behind Judith and observed lunch every day. She nodded, having learned long ago that Claire Winters could be trusted. Claire slipped out of her chair leaving her food untouched and tip-toed out the door.

1880's Quilt

Chapter 4 part 2

Settling In

Judith opened her heavy wooden door and peered around it.
"Psst! Psst Marie!" She said in a loud whisper. There was a creak and the neighboring door opened.
"What is it Judy?" Marie said, her eyes half open.
"Get Jacquie...let's go!"
So the three girls crept down the hall in their nighties. As they passed room twenty-two Judith stopped mid-step.
"Listen..." She whispered in a voice so low it was almost just a breath.
Beyond the door two girls were whispering and twittering.
"Oh Trudy!" One voice said. "Your feet are like ice!"
"Sorry! My socks are all drying on the rack." Said another chipper voice.
"Yes," Said the voice which was Claire's. "We've had such busy week, we waited too late to take our laundry to the the laundry room." There was a pause as the two girls rearranged their covers. Tonight was chilly and the two girls were both in Claire's bed-the furthest from the window naturally.
"Speaking of the laundry room," Claire said in a less mirthful tone. "Do we actually have permission to go in there and have our spa?"
Trudy turned toward Claire and squinted, her eyes adjusting to the dark.
"What do you mean permission? All the girls go in and out and the housekeepers see us doing it every day."
Claire frowned.
"But nobody has actually asked if we could? I mean asked Headmistress Victory?"
Trudy chuckled. "Haven't you ever heard of a goody-two-shoe Claire? We don't have to ask. If we did, she would probably think of some reason why we shouldn't when it is perfectly fine and has provided us with a little fun."
Claire felt uncomfortable. Often times she had felt this way with Cybil in the past year, when she would gossip or go gaga over boys or whisper during church.
“I've been here eight days.” Claire suddenly thought. “Cybil hasn't written to me once!”
She let this roll off her back as she spoke again:
"About the housekeepers Trudy...and the cooks and everyone. Are we really supposed to linger in the kitchen and talk with them?"
Now Trudy almost seemed irritable.
"Don't be closed minded Claire. Are you prejudice against the lower class?"
The tables had turned.
"No! Of course not. My family is always generous and some of my friends from school were desperately poor." Said Claire in a panic of defense. "I just don't want to do anything that we aren't supposed to do." She said more softly.
Trudy, apparently not ruffled, smiled and snickered.
"You mean you don't want to get in trouble!" She said poking Claire in the stomach. Both girls laughed and then began talking about their classmates.
"Anyway," Trudy said briskly when the laughing had died down. "How was your first week at Beekman? I mean, how are you liking the classes over all and what did you think when you saw all the boys? Are you angry that I hadn't told you that they'd be there?"
Claire sat up, leaning against her pillow propped against the wall.
"It's a dear place!" Said Claire as if she could never imagine it any other way. "And the classes are all fine except for algebra of course and I have yet to meet the mysterious Mr. Rueben. Mrs. Loraine is nice and I like spelling in some ways...especially now that she was so impressed that I could spell Arkansas. The cafeteria now has a special place in my heart as a place to make friends. Sewing has never been so interesting...Mother was glad to hear about that. The boys are slightly intimidating. Pete Jinkins is charming despite being sly. I fear he is up to no good as you said. I can't believe how some of the girls act around them! Marie is quite the impertinent little flirt! I wish that we weren't so separate though...all the ages."