“So you have electricity?” asked Jennifer.
“Yeah, and most houses have telephones, but we don’t. Phone company keeps promising to string a line, but there’s only a few of us at the south end of the hollow, so they’re not rushing themselves.”
“Cell phone?” asked Catherine.
“Not in the hollows. The town of Thunder Creek is in a service area, but we’re not.”
“Then what do you do in an emergency?” Hannah asked. “What if someone was trying to reach you?”
“They’d probably try the school first, or Earl’s, if it was night. Then somebody would drive up and deliver the news. Or sometimes they’ll reach us through Sam Feeley and his ham radio. He lives back up the mountain a ways, not too far. He’ll get on his horse and ride over,” Ivy June told them.
“Like something out of a storybook!” Megan exclaimed.
Ivy June smiled. “No storybook, exactly.”
The conversation turned to school again, and after the taco crumbs were cleared away and Megan passed around the brownies she had brought, Jennifer told Ivy June they were going to give her the official “Buckner welcome”—trim her hair, do her fingernails, and polish her toenails.
Ivy June glanced at Catherine, but Catherine seemed to be saying this was okay. So, somewhat embarrassed, Ivy June pulled off her shoes, wondering when she’d last cut that toenail on her left foot that was digging a hole in her sock. But since the rest of the girls were tending to each other, she decided to be a good sport.
Someone put on a CD, and as the nail polish and emery boards were brought out, Courtney put a towel around Ivy June’s shoulders and produced a pair of scissors.
“I don’t want it any shorter,” Ivy June said.
“I’m just going to even up the back, that’s all,” said Courtney, and Ivy June could feel the side of the scissors traveling slowly in a horizontal line beneath her shoulder blades. Jennifer, on her left, polished her left toenails and fingernails; a girl on her right did the other foot and hand.
“Feel like I’m a queen or something,” Ivy June said, and the girls looked up from their polishing and smiled.
When nails were dry and Megan was passing around her brownies again, Jennifer turned off the CD and moseyed to the piano. She sat down and idly began picking out a tune, then settled into a beautiful piece, playing more deliberately. She obviously had it memorized.
“What’s this, Ivy June?” she called as she played.
“I don’t know, but it’s pretty,” Ivy June said, blowing on the nails of one hand.
“You don’t know it?” said Megan, seeming surprised.
Jennifer stopped and began playing something else. “Well, what’s this one, then?” she asked.
It was vaguely familiar, but Ivy June didn’t know it either. She shook her head.
“It’s only by one of the greatest composers for piano in the whole world,” said Jennifer.
Ivy June saw Mackenzie and Hannah exchange glances.
“Chopin!” said Megan, an exaggerated expression of disbelief on her face.
Jennifer stopped playing a second time, and began still a third number. “You’ve got to know this,” she said, frowning a little at Ivy June.
“The Moonlight Sonata,” said Ivy June, in a soft, embarrassed voice.
“Riiiiiight! And the composer?” said Megan.
“Hey, I thought school was over for the week!” said Catherine quickly.
“Yeah, let’s watch the movie,” said Mackenzie.
A DVD was produced, and Jennifer got up from the piano. Courtney brushed the hair clippings off Ivy June’s shirt and said, “You know, we’re about the same size. I’ve got a great-looking shirt I don’t wear anymore, if you want it.”
Another girl turned around. “What size shoe do you wear, Ivy June? I wear a seven, and I’ve got some sandals I’ll bet you’d like.”
“Thanks, but I don’t have any more room in my suitcase,” Ivy June told them, and headed for the bathroom to brush off the hair around her neck.
She closed the door, her cheeks bright pink, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Courtney had done a good job with her hair, but how much of what had gone on out there was well intended? The music quiz seemed designed to prove that she hadn’t deserved to be the school’s soloist.
Ivy June took a deep breath and held it. She wanted to leave. Wished she were back at Shirl’s, teasing her about Fred Mason, horsing around with Shirl’s sisters, reading their magazines. But Miss Dixon had called her the ambassador from their school, so ambassador she was going to be. Ivy June exhaled, brushed the hair off her shoulders, and went back out to the family room.
When it came time to sleep, the girls unrolled sleeping bags or settled down on one of the three couches. Ivy June finally fell asleep, only to be wakened about seven in the morning when Jennifer’s eight-year-old brother sneaked into the room and began playing “Chopsticks” on the piano.
There were Belgian waffles for breakfast, with whipped cream and strawberries, and the girls sat around in their pajamas, hair uncombed, looking and acting more like fifth than seventh graders. They teased each other, Ivy June included, spotting each other’s cheeks with fingers dipped in strawberry juice, until they all looked as though they had the measles.
Ivy June loved being included in the fun. Now that Jennifer and Megan had shown her up with their musical knowledge, it seemed she had passed the friendship test. Everyone was laughingly dumping their whipped cream on top of Jennifer’s waffle, just because Jennifer loved whipped cream so much. Ivy June put her scoop on last, so it towered over the others; then she picked up a slice of strawberry and delicately set it on top, where it balanced on one end. Everyone cheered.
There was talk of what each girl would be doing during spring break—who was traveling, who would be in town, and who the contact person would be if someone decided to give a party.
“Cat will be here all week; she’ll let us know,” Megan said.
“Ha,” Catherine joked, leaning her head sleepily on one hand. “Nobody ever calls me.”
“Except her boyfriend,” said Ivy June, grinning. Then her heart jumped to her throat as Catherine jerked up-right. The girls all hooted, curious.
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Catherine said, staring hard at Ivy June, her eyes cold.
The rest of the girls began to laugh.
“Aha!” said Jennifer. “Do I detect a rise in temperature?”
“So who is he?” asked Hannah.
“I was just kidding,” Ivy June said quickly. “How would I know?” But no one believed her.
“I said I don’t have a boyfriend!” Catherine repeated, and stabbed at another bite of waffle.
All the girls were smiling now—all but Mackenzie.
“How many times has he called, Ivy June?” one of the girls asked.
“She doesn’t have a boyfriend,” said Ivy June. “I was just shooting off my mouth.”
“So do you have a boyfriend back home?” Courtney asked her.
“Sure. Dozens,” said Ivy June. “Got ’em lined up all the way to Tennessee.”
The girls laughed again, all but Catherine and Mackenzie.
Later, as the girls dressed and collected their things, Ivy June could barely look at Catherine. How could she have said that? Hadn’t she promised not to mention the boy’s calls to anyone? How could she stay another week at the Combses’ with Catherine mad at her? Sleeping in the same room?
She stuffed her things into the overnight bag Claire had loaned her and pulled on her jacket. When Ivy June went out on the porch to wait for Mr. Combs to pick them up, Catherine turned away. And when the car pulled into the driveway, Catherine got in first without saying a word.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When the girls got home, Catherine went inside and ran directly up the stairs to her room. Miserably, Ivy June followed. She was afraid, when Catherine shut the door behind her, that she might have locked it. But no, the door op
ened. Ivy June watched Catherine drop her overnight bag on the floor, plunk herself down on the bed, and turn her face to the wall.
Ivy June sat down on the edge of the other bed. She started to speak once, but her voice only produced a squeak. She tried again: “Catherine, I’m really sorry.”
There was no response.
“I don’t know what made me say that. It came out so fast.”
Still nothing from Catherine, except a slight shrug of a shoulder, as though nothing Ivy June could say would make it better.
“As soon as I said it, I knew I shouldn’t have,” Ivy June told her pleadingly.
Catherine jerked around. “You promised you wouldn’t say a word!”
“I know. And I feel awful.”
“Not as awful as I feel,” Catherine said, with anger.
There was silence in the bedroom for a few moments.
“Like I said, I’m really, really sorry, but … Well, what’s wrong with having a boyfriend? I mean, if he is your boyfriend!”
“I told you he’s not!” Catherine shot back. “And now Mackenzie’s mad at me, and she’s like my best friend in the whole world. Was, I should say!”
“But why should she be mad?” Ivy June asked.
Catherine sat up completely and swung her legs over the side of the bed, glaring at Ivy June. “Because she likes him too, and she didn’t know he’s been calling me, that’s why.”
“Oh,” said Ivy June, trying to figure it out. “Then he’s Mackenzie’s boyfriend?”
“He’s nobody’s boyfriend!” Catherine said. “And it’s none of your business.”
“Okay. I’m sorry.” Ivy June pulled her legs up on the bed and wrapped her arms around her knees. She and Catherine were quiet for a while. Once, the girls lifted their eyes and glanced at each other, then dropped them again.
Finally Catherine sighed and scooted back against the wall. “Look. Every February our school puts on a carnival along with St. John’s to raise money for our libraries. St. John’s is a boys’ school. This year we met Andy at one of the booths, and he was really cute. That’s who he is.”
Ivy June nodded, and Catherine continued: “Mackenzie hung around him all evening and flirted a lot. I did too, actually. For the last three weeks, all she’s talked about is Andy. And when he started calling me … well, how could I tell her?”
“I don’t know. I guess you couldn’t,” said Ivy June. “But how would she know it’s him who’s been calling?”
“Who else would it be?” said Catherine. “Mackenzie and Hannah and I tell each other everything. Well, almost everything. If there was any boy other than Andy calling me, I would have told her already, and she knows it.”
They sat across from each other on the twin beds, studying each other’s feet. Finally Ivy June said, “What can I do to make up for it?”
“If I knew, I’d tell you. I don’t think there’s anything you can say to Mackenzie now to keep her from being mad at me.”
“Don’t you think she already suspected that he likes you?” Ivy June asked cautiously. “I mean, girls can tell about things like this.”
“I don’t know, but you sure ruined things between us,” Catherine said.
Ivy June rested her chin on her arms. When she looked up again, she said, “Are you going to be mad at me the whole rest of the time I’m here?”
Catherine didn’t answer for a moment. She might have been holding back a smile; Ivy June wasn’t sure. “Probably,” Catherine said.
“Well, is there anything I can do to make you not be mad at me?”
Catherine thought it over. “Yes. Tell me one of your secrets.”
“For you to tell the other girls?”
“Maybe. If I feel like it.”
Ivy June took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “I kissed a boy once at Shirl’s.”
Catherine did smile a little bit. “Shirl’s your best friend?”
“Yeah. We started first grade together.”
“Who was the boy?”
“Jimmy Harris. We were playing spin the bottle and I had to kiss him in front of everybody.”
“Then that’s not a secret,” said Catherine. “That doesn’t count.”
Ivy June thought some more. “Okay, then. I stole something once from Walmart.”
“Really? What was it?”
“Uh … a pair of socks.”
“You did not,” said Catherine.
“How do you know?”
“I just know. If you’d stolen anything, it wouldn’t be socks, and I’ll bet you never stole anything in your life.”
Ivy June sighed. “Okay, I didn’t.”
“If I’m not going to be mad at you for the next week, you’ve got to tell me something that’s really, really secret,” said Catherine.
“All right, but I’ll have to think about it,” said Ivy June.
For the time being, the secret was put on hold because Mrs. Combs had tickets that evening to Oklahoma! at the Lexington Opera House, and they would all be going out to dinner before the performance.
“Yes, you have to wear a tie. Quit fussing about it,” Ivy June heard Mr. Combs say to Peter, who was complaining loudly. “We always wear ties to the theater, and you know that.”
To Catherine, Ivy June said, “I guess I’m supposed to dress up as much as I possibly can?”
“Next to weddings and funerals,” Catherine told her.
Ivy June put on the same dress and sandals she’d worn to church but accepted the offer of Catherine’s light wool jacket instead of the grimy one she’d worn with her jeans when she’d arrived.
As Ivy June was brushing her hair at the mirror in the bathroom, the knob turned on the other door and Claire stepped in.
“Oh!” she said. “It wasn’t locked.”
“It’s okay. I’m about to leave,” Ivy June told her.
“How do I look?” Claire stood perfectly still, her chin held high for inspection.
“I think you look terrific,” Ivy June said, noting the black velvet top and taffeta skirt. Then she leaned down a little closer. “Hmmm. Either strawberry jam or your ma’s lip gloss, I’ll bet.”
Claire quickly backed away, but her eyes danced. “Only a little,” she said. “Catherine uses it sometimes. I saw!”
“Well then, that’s Catherine’s secret, isn’t it?”
The young girl leaned against the doorframe and watched as Ivy June gathered up her comb and brush and the talcum powder Mammaw had given her to pat under her arms. “Is it true that everyone in Thunder Creek is poor?” Claire asked, and then, suddenly conscious of her rudeness, said, “Not you, I mean.”
“Well, I don’t know of any rich people,” Ivy June said, and couldn’t help admiring Claire’s frankness.
But Claire was stumbling all over herself now to make amends. “I’ve heard it’s really beautiful in the mountains, and there’s no traffic or anything.”
“You’re right,” said Ivy June, leaving the bathroom. “It doesn’t have a lot of things, and tons of cars are one of them.”
She knew, of course. They had all known why Buckner Academy had chosen Thunder Creek, in one of the poorest counties in Kentucky. She knew she was coming to Lexington as a disadvantaged girl, to get a taste of the finer things in life—by city standards, of course. But so what? She was here, she was hungry to learn, and she was going to enjoy everything the night had to offer.
Catherine, too, looked nice that evening. She wasn’t an exceptionally pretty girl, but she was attractive when she was all dressed up. She wore the same gold locket with everything, jeans and dresses alike. On this night it shone against her dress of green silk. It was her mother’s locket. She had worn it as a girl, Catherine had explained to Ivy June, opening it to show a tiny photo of her mother at age fifteen.
“Mom used to carry a photo of her mom inside it,” she said.
“Well!” said Catherine’s father, looking about the big round table at the restaurant once they were seated. “It’
s great to have us all together and in a good mood.”
He had sensed the quarrel between her and Catherine that afternoon, Ivy June was certain, and this was his way of saying he was glad it was over.
Mrs. Combs opened the menu. “We’re celebrating two things tonight—the start of spring break, and having Ivy June as our guest,” she said. “So I hope you will order whatever you like, Ivy June.”
“Us too?” asked Claire.
“Of course,” said their mother. “As long as you eat something besides French fries.”
There were things on the menu Ivy June had never heard of, and it seemed to take a long time after they had ordered for the food to arrive. Ivy June was thinking that back in Hazard or Harlan, they could have eaten three or four meals at McDonald’s in the time it took to eat one dinner at a restaurant in Lexington. Nevertheless, she enjoyed her chicken pot pie while the others ate veal, and was surprised to see bread pudding, a favorite of Mammaw’s, on the menu for dessert.
Her legs got cold on the walk from the restaurant to the opera house. Catherine, she noticed, was wearing panty hose, which Ivy June had never worn in her life. But once inside the beautiful theater, Ivy June stood gazing up at the ceiling, which was so high she couldn’t imagine how anyone could have put lights there. The red plush seats, the two curved balconies with their fancy boxes at either end—she’d have to remember to write it all down later in her journal.
If Jessie could see me now, she thought, almost guiltily, and wished that Howard and Ezra and Danny could see it too. Wished that Ma and Daddy had the time and the money to come to a place like this. That Mammaw and Papaw could sit in a restaurant and be served by waiters in blue jackets. And that Shirl could sit beside her in the theater and giggle at the man in front of them, who was wearing a collar so tight it looked as though he were choking. Then the orchestra started to play. The curtain rose on a prairie scene, and a man sitting on a fence began singing, “Oh, what a beautiful morn in ….” Ivy June was hooked.
During intermission, when everyone stood at once and began surging up the aisle to the exits, Ivy June felt her throat tighten and perspiration bead up on her fore-head. The crush of people! This was far worse than the halls at school. No one seemed to be moving much at all, just inching forward bit by bit. She could feel their breath on the back of her neck, their feet bumping into her heels, but there was no place to go. She kept bumping into people herself as she was propelled forward, saying “Excuse me” and “Pardon me” and “Oops!” and “I’m sorry.”
Faith, Hope, and Ivy June Page 7