The Luckiest Girl

by Beverly Cleary

  Why, ironing is fun, marveled Shelley, running her iron in and out around the buttons on the sport shirt and feeling a little like a child who has finally been asked to the party. Once the telephone rang, and Shelley started. At home Friday night calls were almost always for her. This one was not. She finished ironing the shirt and hung it from the top of the door on a hanger. As she turned back to the ironing board she noticed the head of the six-point buck. “Is that the deer’s head Mother says you took to college with you?” she asked Mavis.

  “Yes, it is,” answered Mavis, and laughed. “Your poor mother. I’m afraid I was a terrible trial to her.”

  “Why?” asked Shelley, finding it difficult to imagine Mavis a trial to anyone.

  “I was so untidy and our room in the dormitory was so small,” explained Mavis. “I used to hang my one hat and my scarves on the antlers, because they were so handy, and every week your mother would take them down just before room inspection. She was so fastidious—she always looked as if she had just stepped out of a shower into freshly ironed clothes.”

  Shelley smiled, thinking that her mother still looked that way. Maybe that was why she had not wanted Shelley to wear a dirty slicker. She wanted Shelley to look the way she had looked when she was a girl. The words that Shelley had not spoken the day she threw the roses into the Disposall came back to her now. But Mother, I am not you. I am me.

  “But Mommy, why did you take a deer’s head away to school?” asked Katie from the mangle.

  Mavis laughed. “Why does a girl that age do anything? A boy I thought was perfectly wonderful shot the deer and had the head mounted for me, and naturally I couldn’t bear to leave such a precious gift at home.”

  “And you’ve kept it all these years?” exclaimed Shelley, and realized at once that her reference to all these years was scarcely tactful.

  Mavis burst out laughing. “It isn’t easy to get rid of the mounted head of a six-point buck.”

  “Were you madly in love?” asked Katie.

  “Girls in their teens always fancy themselves in love with the wrong boy,” said Mavis, smiling. “However, this boy came to visit me at school, took one look at Shelley’s mother, and lost interest in me.”

  “He did?” Shelley was amazed at this glimpse of her mother’s girlhood. “But didn’t you mind?”

  “A little at first,” admitted Mavis, “but I think I was really relieved to get rid of him, because he wanted me to hunt jackrabbits with him. Anyway, he helped make up for your mother’s disappointment that weekend.”

  “What sort of disappointment?” asked Shelley curiously.

  “She didn’t get elected Soph Doll,” said Mavis. “That is what we called the queen of the sophomore ball.”

  “Soph Doll!” repeated Shelley in astonishment. Mother wanted to be Soph Doll?

  “Yes, and it was a shame she didn’t win,” said Mavis. “She was the prettiest of the candidates but lost out through some sort of campus politics.”

  Shelley was incredulous. Mother wanting to be elected Soph Doll of all things. Of course, she was pretty for an older woman, but she was—well, a housewife. She had been ever since Shelley had known her. Before that she had been a teacher and before that—apparently she had been a girl who hoped to be Soph Doll. For Shelley this was an entirely new picture of her mother, and as she ironed another sport shirt, she found herself feeling sorry that her mother had not been elected to rule over a sophomore ball a long time ago.

  “And you know,” Mavis continued, “I’ve always felt I should have turned the deer’s head over to your mother along with the boy. The Great White Hunter, we called him.”

  In the front of the house the doorbell twirled. “You get it, Katie,” directed Tom, opening the mangle once more.

  Katie returned in a moment, her eyes sparkling. “Someone to see you, Shelley,” she announced.

  “Me?” asked Shelley as excitement shot through her. Philip! The story in the paper had given him the push he needed.

  It was Hartley Lathrop who entered the laundry behind Katie. “Hi, Shelley,” said Hartley. “Good evening, Mrs. Michie and Mr. Michie.”

  “Why, Hartley!” In her surprise Shelley set the iron down flat.

  “I know you weren’t expecting me,” apologized Hartley, “but at the last minute I got the car. When I tried to phone, the line was busy so I thought I’d take a chance. You can throw me out if you want to.”

  “Why—” Shelley was not sure what to say. She only hoped that her disappointment did not show. A scorched smell rose from her ironing board and she hastily lifted the iron.

  “Not a chance,” said Tom. “We’re starting sheets and can use another hand around here.”

  “Sure,” said Hartley, pulling a sheet out of the laundry basket. He and Luke folded it in half the long way while Tom and Katie folded a second sheet. They laid the ends on the roller. “Now!” said Tom. The mangle closed and the sheets rolled through.

  Shelley wondered what Hartley would think. She could not picture any of the boys she knew at home helping with the ironing, any more than she could picture her mother or father asking them to help. Hartley seemed to be enjoying himself, so Shelley went on with her task.

  “I promised Shelley a trip to Vincente to sample doughnut holes,” Hartley explained as he picked up another sheet.

  “You two run along,” said Mavis. “The rest of us can finish.”

  “No hurry,” said Hartley, folding the sheet. When the last sheet and shirt and dirndl had been ironed, he turned to Shelley. “Shall we go?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Shelley felt a little shy under the interested scrutiny of Katie.

  “Thanks for the help, Hartley,” said Tom.

  “And do come over sometime when we aren’t ironing,” said Mavis. “We won’t always put Shelley’s guests to work.”

  Shelley enjoyed the drive through the warm evening. The stars seemed lower than the stars at home. Once there was a hint of moisture in the air as they passed a grove that had been irrigated that day. As they turned a corner, the headlights caught for an instant a graceful tree with foliage that trailed in the breeze. “What was that feathery tree?” she asked.

  “A pepper tree,” answered Hartley.

  “Oh, of course. The tree with pink berries,” said Shelley. “Mavis sent us some at Christmas once when I was in grade school and I took some to school to show the class. I felt so important.”

  Vincente looked very much like San Sebastian, though a little larger perhaps and farther from the mountains. The doughnut shop, which was near the Orange Belt College, was filled with students who had stopped in on their way from the library. They made Shelley feel young and inexperienced, but Hartley was at ease. He guided her past a rack displaying every kind of doughnut—plain, sugar coated, chocolate frosted, nut covered—into a booth, where he ordered doughnut holes and milk shakes. Then he smiled across the table at Shelley, who was enjoying the cinnamon and nutmeg fragrance of the shop. “Your hair looks nice in front, too,” he said.

  Shelley laughed and to change the subject said, “I hope you didn’t mind helping with the ironing tonight.”

  “Not a bit. It was fun,” answered Hartley. “The Michies made me feel like part of the family.”

  “I know,” said Shelley. “They made me feel that way the minute I arrived. I was so scared. I had never been away from home before except for two weeks at camp once.”

  “Do you like California, Shelley?” Hartley asked seriously.

  “I do now,” said Shelley. “At first everything looked so flat and dry and there wasn’t any water in the riverbed. A river with no water—I had never seen anything like that before.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Hartley. “There will be water this winter.”

  “It seems hard to believe,” said Shelley. “At first all I could think was that I had to spend the winter in this place. I had heard so much about California I guess I expected to step across the border into the tropics.” Shelley munched
a doughnut hole thoughtfully before she said, “And you know, now that I’m used to it, it really is beautiful. I love it. Oranges and olives really growing on trees, and down the street from our house there is a tree with pomegranates growing on it. Real pomegranates!”

  “You make them sound like something special,” said Hartley. “I’ve seen pomegranates around here ever since we came to California when I was about three years old, and I never thought much about them.”

  “They remind me of a story I used to read when I was a little girl,” said Shelley, thinking that Hartley had a nice face. Not as nice as Philip’s, with his sunburned nose, but nice in a different way. Thinner, more sensitive, the kind of face that in the movies belonged to the man who didn’t get the girl but you sort of wished he had.

  “What was the story?” asked Hartley.

  “I used to like fairy tales,” said Shelley, “and this was a myth about Persephone, who was snatched away by Pluto to the lower world, and while she was there she ate six pomegranate seeds and that is why we have six months of summer and six months of winter.”

  Hartley looked at her so steadily that Shelley was embarrassed. How silly to be sitting here talking about fairy tales. She did not know what had come over her. She would never have thought of telling Jack such a thing. They were both silent a moment, and out of habit Shelley opened her mouth to say something. Then she closed it and was silent.

  “You started to say something,” Hartley reminded her.

  Shelley looked down at the table. “Not really.”

  “Yes, you did,” Hartley insisted.

  Shelley laughed nervously. “I don’t really know what I was going to say. Just anything, I guess. A boy I—I used to know always said ‘Penny for your thoughts’ when there was a silence and I guess I fell into the habit of saying anything that popped into my mind to keep him from saying it.”

  “Didn’t you like the boy?” Hartley asked curiously.

  For the first time since she had left home, Shelley stopped to think about Jack. She found that being a thousand miles away gave her a new perspective. “Yes,” she said thoughtfully, “I liked him. He was really an awfully nice fellow, but you know how it is. You go out with a boy three or four times and everybody assumes you are going steady. I guess we just ran out of things to talk about.” As she spoke Shelley knew that although she was tired of Jack, she was also grateful to him. He had taken her to school dances and the movies and different places to eat so that she had learned how a girl should act and could sit here with Hartley without worrying about her behavior.

  Shelley stirred her milk shake with her straw. She had not meant to confide in Hartley but, for a boy, she found him surprisingly easy to talk to. And the thought crossed her mind that if he had been Philip she would have been more cautious in expressing disapproval of going steady. It was funny how a girl would behave one way with one boy and an entirely different way with another boy.

  Feeling that she had let the conversation become too personal, Shelley said, “I like school, too, and next semester I get to take journalism. I’ve wanted to take journalism ever since I entered high school.”

  “I’m going to take it too,” said Hartley. “I want to go to Stanford and it would help the family a lot if I could get a scholarship. And to get a scholarship you have to take part in activities. I figured that if I worked on the school paper I would get credit for an activity and an English course at the same time.”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Shelley, admiring Hartley’s ability to plan ahead. They sat in silence, each thinking about individual plans for the future.

  “I think doughnut holes taste better than doughnuts,” said Hartley. “Maybe it is because they were your idea.”

  Shelley wrinkled her nose at Hartley. “I think we had better go,” she said, glancing at her watch. “I’m not sure what time the Michies expect me to be in.” And the funny part of it was that since no one had mentioned when she should come home, she was eager to return early.

  They said little on the way home. Hartley parked the car outside the privet hedge and walked Shelley to the door, which she found was unlocked. She opened it and Hartley stepped into the front hall with her. A lamp was shining in the living room, but Shelley was not sure whether she should ask Hartley to sit down or not.

  “I won’t stay,” Hartley said, as if in answer to her thoughts.

  “I had a good time.” Shelley meant it, even though she would have preferred spending the evening with Philip.

  “I like you, Shelley,” said Hartley directly. “You make me feel as if I were seeing things around me for the first time. Like pepper trees. And that pomegranate tree. I’ve seen it all my life and never thought anything about it except when I was a kid and we used to snitch pomegranates at Halloween. But you make it seem as if having a pomegranate tree growing down the street is something special.”

  Shelley smiled, not knowing quite how to answer. A girl always enjoyed hearing a boy say he liked her. Before she could think of an answer, she began to have an uneasy feeling that she and Hartley were being watched. She glanced up over Hartley’s shoulder, and there in the transom over the unused door at the end of the living room was the face of Katie, beaming down at her like a Cheshire cat.

  Why, she must be crouched on top of the refrigerator, thought Shelley in astonishment, and at the same time she noticed that the transom had been opened.

  “Uh…” said Shelley, ill at ease under the interested eye of Katie. “Well, uh…thank you, Hartley. I had a good time.”

  “Shelley, I…” Hartley began.

  “Good night, Hartley,” said Shelley firmly and with what she knew was false brightness. Darn Katie anyway. Little snoop.

  “Good night, Shelley,” said Hartley, looking puzzled and a little hurt.

  “See you at school,” said Shelley, realizing that the pleasant evening was ending on an awkward note. “You know, Latham, Lathrop.”

  “We can’t miss, can we?” answered Hartley. “Good night, Shelley.”

  Even if Hartley was not Philip, Shelley did not want him to go away with his feelings hurt. She glanced at the transom and saw that Katie was still watching with avid interest. She could not think of a thing to say so she said, “Good night, Hartley.”

  As Shelley closed the door, she heard the thump of Katie jumping to the floor. Wait till I get hold of her, thought Shelley. Just wait. If Katie thought she was going to let her get away with spying on her just so she could tease…

  Shelley did not have to wait. Katie appeared in the living room in her pajamas. “Shelley, he said he liked you!” she exclaimed. “Aren’t you simply thrilled to pieces?”

  “Why, yes, I am pleased.” Shelley admitted cautiously. Katie’s reaction was not at all what she expected.

  Katie looked at Shelley with admiration shining from her face. “It must be wonderful to have a boy say he likes you!”

  Shelley did not have the heart to scold.

  “I know I shouldn’t have watched,” said Katie with disarming frankness, “but I just had to so if a boy ever asks me to go out I will know what to do.” She paused and sighed gustily. “But I don’t suppose a boy ever will ask me.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” said Shelley, wondering if Katie would crouch on the refrigerator if Philip ever brought her home.

  “What would you have done if he had tried to kiss you?” Katie asked bluntly.

  Shelley made a face at Katie and put her hand on the banister rail. “I don’t know—he didn’t try,” she said, and ran up the stairs.

  Chapter 5

  The next week, at school, Hartley was still friendly toward Shelley but there was a restraint in his behavior that was new. Shelley was sorry, but she did not know how to tell him about Katie’s watching them say good night. A girl on top of the refrigerator was such an improbable thing to try to explain. Everything about Shelley’s new life was so fresh and so exciting that she did not let her thoughts linger on anything or anybody—ex
cept Philip—very long.

  Every day she found something new to like about San Sebastian Union High School. It seemed so much friendlier than the school she had attended at home and, because it was smaller, everyone knew everyone else. Shelley and Jeannie soon became friends. Jeannie was different from any girl Shelley had ever known. She was so small and quick and eager and yet beneath her eagerness she seemed wistful, as if she were waiting for something to happen and was afraid it might not.

  The girls usually ate their lunches together on the lawn under a palm tree. “I think it is fun to bring a lunch when everyone does,” confided Shelley one day. “It makes every lunch period seem like a picnic.”

  “I would like to go to a school that had a cafeteria,” said Jeannie. “If all the tuna fish sandwiches I have eaten since kindergarten were laid end to end, they would reach farther than I care to think about.”

  “At home the students who brought bag lunches were embarrassed because they had to eat them in the cafeteria along with those who could buy lunches. This way is more fun.”

  Jeannie smiled at Shelley. “You have fun in the funniest ways. I guess that’s why I like you.”

  The rooting section at the football games was a happy surprise to Shelley too. Any girl who wore a white blouse could sit in the rooting section. The girls who forgot to wear white blouses on game days ran out to the gym and pulled on their gym blouses over whatever they happened to be wearing. This made Shelley’s new school perfect. “I’ve always wanted to sit in a rooting section,” she confessed to Jeannie.

  “Don’t all schools do it this way?” asked Jeannie.

  “No, they don’t. At home one girl was chosen from each room,” Shelley explained. “The trouble with you, Jeannie, is that you just don’t appreciate San Sebastian.”