by Judy Blume
That afternoon Mr. Royer called Miri and Tiny to his office, an office Miri had never set foot in, in almost three years at Hamilton Junior High. The windows overlooked Cherry Street. A collection of Audubon prints hung on one wall. Miri recognized them because Irene had the same drawings hanging in her hallway. When she was little she’d memorized the names of all the birds.
Mr. Royer, in a rumpled suit, sat behind his desk. He was balding, plump and pink-cheeked. He didn’t invite Tiny or Miri to sit, though there were two chairs in front of his desk.
“I’m requesting a meeting with your mother, Miss Ammerman.”
“My mother works in New York,” Miri told him. “The only time she can meet is at night.”
“Why am I not surprised to hear that?” He muttered something about how women belonged at home until their children were grown.
Tiny, who had two children in elementary school, began to cough. She dug a Smith Brothers cough drop from a box in her purse.
—
HENRY OFFERED to meet with Mr. Royer in Rusty’s place. The meeting was set for just after three on Monday afternoon, with Miri, Tiny and Uncle Henry. Miri told Mason on the phone that night she’d be late picking up Fred tomorrow. When Mason heard the reason he said, “I really like that about you.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Just everything.”
Miri laughed. “I hope I won’t be expelled.”
“Expelled? I don’t think so.”
“He expelled Suzanne’s sister, Dorrie, when she was in ninth grade.”
“What’d she do to get expelled?”
“I don’t know. Neither does Suzanne. It was a long time ago. Her parents won’t talk about it. She had to transfer to another junior high.”
“Don’t let Royer push you around. He does that if he thinks he can get away with it.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Now you do.”
“Okay.”
“Good luck,” Mason said.
“Thanks. I’ll need it.”
“And you can tell him if he messes with my girl he’ll have to answer to me.”
“I really like that about you.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Just everything.”
—
THE FIRST THING Mr. Royer said to Uncle Henry was “I could expel her for this.” Expel? He’d actually said the word out loud. “She defied my orders. Mrs. Wallace told her the story was not appropriate and what did she do—made copies and handed them out at school. Have you read the story?” Mr. Royer asked Henry.
“Yes, I have. I was impressed.”
“It’s hogwash!”
“Pardon me?” Henry said.
“Would you want me to allow the young Adolf Hitler to express his opinions in our school paper?”
Adolf Hitler! He was comparing her to Adolf Hitler?
“You can’t be serious,” Henry said calmly. “I hardly think that’s a fair comparison.”
Mr. Royer came out from behind his desk and began to adjust the bird prints on the wall, tapping the side of one drawing, then another.
Miri was stuck on Adolf Hitler so missed whatever Henry said next except it ended in freedom of expression.
Mr. Royer whipped around. “Don’t lecture me on free speech, young man.”
Tiny began to cough, just as she had the last time they were in his office.
“Do you need water, Mrs. Wallace?” Mr. Royer asked, annoyed.
Tiny shook her head. Again, she dug out a cough drop and put it in her mouth.
“I think the best thing for all involved would be for Miri to leave the school paper of her own free will,” Mr. Royer said.
He was kicking her off the paper?
Tiny held a tissue to her mouth, got rid of the cough drop and cleared her throat a few times. “She’s a good student,” Tiny managed to say. “And a fine young reporter. She’s never been in trouble. This would be very harsh punishment.” She eyed the pitcher of water on Mr. Royer’s desk.
Uncle Henry poured a cup and handed it to Tiny. She drank it down.
“You think this is harsh punishment, Mrs. Wallace?”
“Yes, I do,” Tiny said with conviction, “and I’m concerned it will affect the morale of our other editors and reporters.”
Henry said, “Why not give Miri another chance, Mr. Royer? I’m sure she understands now that your strong feelings come with serious consequences.”
“I don’t want another chance!” Miri said. “What good is a newspaper when its reporters can’t write about what’s on the minds of its readers?”
“That’s it!” Mr. Royer said. “You’re off the paper and you’re on probation for the rest of the school year. One more incident and I promise you, Miss Ammerman, you will be expelled.” He said the last few words very slowly, making sure they sank in.
Tears stung her eyes but she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
Henry reached for Miri’s hand. “Mr. Royer, with all due respect—”
“I suppose you’re a bleeding heart, Mr. Ammerman…I suppose you think it’s fine for students to break the rules.”
“Sir, I don’t think that at all.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it because this meeting has gone on long enough.” He nodded at Tiny, then at Uncle Henry.
Miri half expected him to add, Dismissed.
She was so angry she was shaking, and so shaken by Mr. Royer’s power over her, she wanted to scream. Was she supposed to be relieved she hadn’t been expelled?
Out in the hall, she hugged Henry for coming and for standing up for her. She thanked Tiny, too. “This, too, shall pass,” Tiny said.
Miri didn’t know how to respond. Was that like Time heals all wounds? She’d heard both expressions at Mrs. Barnes’s house on the night of her son’s funeral. They both sounded like bull to her.
“I promised to call Rusty and let her know what happened,” Henry said.
“She’s going to be mad.”
“At Mr. Royer, not at you.”
—
RUSTY WASN’T just mad, she was furious.
Who did he think he was, threatening to expel her daughter? She knew men like him, drunk with power, certain they could get away with anything and everything. Oh, she knew them, all right! She’d like to give him a piece of her mind. And maybe she would. She’d gone to Hamilton, too. So had Henry. But they’d had a different principal, one who’d joked with them. How do you spell principal? he would ask. Remember the P-A-L on the end because the principal is your pal. Ha! Mr. Royer was no pal. She bet he wouldn’t dare behave that way toward her daughter if she had a husband. It was because she wasn’t married, because she went to business, that he showed her no respect. A young uncle didn’t count, even if he was a prominent reporter. Royer was a bully.
Henry urged her to let it go. Miri had just this semester left at Hamilton.
“And it should be a happy time for her,” Rusty argued.
“She can join High Spots when she gets to Battin,” Henry said. “That’s a first-rate high school paper. I know Mr. Komishane, the adviser.”
“Royer shouldn’t get away with this.”
“Maybe not. But Miri can handle it. If you go to see him it could be worse for her.”
“You really believe that?”
“I do, Rusty.”
“I’m not sure I agree.”
“You don’t have to.”
Rusty said, “When you’re a parent you’ll understand.” She knew she was saying that too often, whenever she was stuck. But she couldn’t help herself.
—
ELEANOR CALLED an emergency meeting of the Hamilton Headlines staff. Tiny came, too.
They applauded when Miri came in. She looked around, her eyes misty. “I’m going to miss this,” she said.
Eleanor said, “We’ve talked about going on strike.”
Suzanne said, “Or resigning.”
Eleanor said, “On
the other hand, we can use this as a chance to write what we think.”
Miri looked at Tiny.
“I won’t be asking Mr. Royer’s permission for any more stories,” she said.
“But what about your job?” Miri asked.
Tiny shook her head. “There are other jobs.”
Elizabeth Daily Post
CRASH PROBE REVEALS TWO ENGINES FAILED
Extraordinary Release of Preliminary Findings
By Henry Ammerman
FEB. 28—Both of the right engines failed on the National Airlines four-engine DC-6 that crashed into the Janet Memorial Home’s yard on Feb. 11.
The CAB investigator also announced that the DC-6’s radial 18-cylinder Pratt & Whitney “Double Wasp” engines are being disassembled piece by piece and nut by nut at the facilities of Pacific Airmotive Co. in Linden. This is the same type of engine that powered the Convair 240 that crashed near Battin High School last month and the C-46 that crashed into the Elizabeth River in December, when an engine exploded. The “Double Wasp” is one of the most widely used engines in aviation, with a reputation for reliability earned during the adverse conditions of World War II.
Crowds continue to gather at the crash site, which has taken on a carnival air, with a hawker selling bags of popcorn and families taking their children to see the remains of the devastation.
26
Christina
Christina’s period was late. She was beside herself with worry. Jack said to give it another two weeks. It was probably the stress of the crash. He swore he’d pulled out in time. She was distracted at school but everyone knew she’d been at the scene of the third crash, everyone knew she’d tried to help the injured. Even Mama and Baba were kind. Athena said she was getting too much attention, that the family was babying her, that staying at the crash site that night might not have been the best decision she’d ever made. But the aunts and uncles threw a family party for her. Really, it was Jack who rushed into the burning plane. Jack and Mason and Mason’s friends from Janet. But she couldn’t tell them that. She didn’t want to bring up the subject of Jack.
Finally, when they were alone in the kitchen, Mama asked, not unkindly, “You were out on a date with that boy?”
“Not so much a date,” Christina tried to explain. “We’re just friends. We went to Twin City, the roller rink.”
But Mama was more interested in Jack than skating. “So who is this friend? He’s a Greek boy?”
“His name is Jack McKittrick.”
“McKittrick?”
“Yes.”
“He’s Irish?”
“Half, yes.”
“And he’s not a boyfriend?”
“No. But what if he was?”
“A boyfriend?”
Christina nodded. “I’m not saying he is…but just suppose…”
Mama sucked in her breath. It felt like she was sucking in all the air in the room. Christina felt dizzy, like she might faint. She steadied herself against the kitchen table.
Finally, Mama spoke. “Baba and I would be very disappointed, very concerned. And your Yaya and Papou—they would kill me for letting you have an Irish boyfriend.”
“His mother wasn’t Irish.” Christina blurted this out, digging herself in deeper and deeper.
“She was Greek?”
“She might have been. She had dark hair and dark eyes. And I think her name was Eleni.” Lies and more lies. She had to stop.
“Eleni,” her mother said quietly. Christina knew Jack’s mother’s name was Elaine but that was close enough. She was probably Italian. Didn’t Jack once tell her his mother made spaghetti sauce from scratch?
Christina’s anxiety was showing up not just at home, where she left the cap off the toothpaste, and one time forgot to flush the toilet, leading Athena to give her hell, calling her disgusting—but at work, where she tried to be extra careful, not letting her mind wander. Still, Daisy sensed something was wrong. “Whatever it is, if I can help in any way, let me know.”
“Thank you, Daisy.”
“You know you can trust me.”
“I do know. It’s just that…” She was that close to confiding in Daisy.
“You’ve been through a terrible time,” Daisy said. “The death, the destruction—once was bad enough, but you’ve seen it twice, Christina. That would be hard on anyone. Dr. O has a friend, a patient, you’ve probably met him…Dr. Reiss?”
“Yes, I’ve seen him at the office several times.”
“You could talk with him. I know Dr. O would be glad to set it up for you.”
“I don’t think…not now, anyway…but thank you.”
Every time she passed the lab down the hall she looked in and saw the fat white rabbits in their cages. She could have a urine test to see if she was pregnant but she didn’t want to be responsible for killing a rabbit, and the rabbit died whether or not you were pregnant. A lot of people thought it only died if you were pregnant. Ha! How did they think the technicians checked the rabbit’s ovaries? No, she couldn’t do that. Besides, she couldn’t just walk in with a cup of urine and ask for the test. They knew her family from the luncheonette downstairs. They knew she worked for Dr. O. She would have to wait a few more weeks, wait for her period to come. She wasn’t nauseous, though she was sometimes dizzy. She didn’t crave certain foods—in fact she had very little appetite. And she didn’t think her breasts were swelling, though Jack did.
She would not have sex with Jack, no matter how many times he said, “But, honey, if you’re already pregnant it doesn’t matter.”
“And if I’m not?”
“Either way, I’ll be more careful. I’ll use a rubber until we know for sure.”
“I can’t, Jack. Please don’t push me.”
He was frustrated but not angry. He taught her how to give him a hand job. At first she didn’t think she could touch it. But now she was more comfortable. Now she thought of it as a friend. She liked the way it responded to her touch. Jack put her hand on his balls. “Feel how tight they get,” he whispered. “That’s because it feels so good.”
Then he’d spurt, not on her if she was lucky.
At first she wouldn’t let him touch her that way. “Are you sure I can’t get pregnant? That is, if I’m not already pregnant?”
“Don’t worry.”
But worry was her new middle name.
When she let herself go, when she let him touch her there, she enjoyed it. She cried out when she got that good feeling. Why, oh, why hadn’t they done it this way in the first place? Then they wouldn’t be in this predicament. Now she was six weeks late. She wasn’t ready to be a wife and she certainly wasn’t ready to be a mother. There was talk of a doctor in south Jersey who could take care of it but it cost a lot of money and she wasn’t sure it was safe.
One night when Jack met her after work he said, “How about a quick trip to Elkton?”
“You mean elope?” Debbie Reynolds had eloped to Elkton. And Willie Mays, too. Everyone knew about Elkton. They called it Marry-Land instead of Maryland. Usually it was a joke but Jack didn’t sound like he was joking. Was he proposing to her?
“I’ve got it all figured out,” he said. “We drive down early Saturday morning. Leave by six a.m. We get hitched, then drive back.”
“You mean get married?” Christina had trouble getting out the words. Wasn’t this moment supposed to be romantic?
“I can’t stand seeing you so unhappy.”
“I’m not unhappy. I’m worried.”
“That’s what I mean.”
“I don’t know, Jack.”
“We love each other, don’t we?”
“Yes.”
“We want to spend the rest of our lives together, don’t we?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s do it. No one has to know. It’ll be our secret.”
“But if I’m pregnant I’ll have to tell my family. There’s no way to keep that a secret. And when they find out they’re going to kill me.
Or you. Or both of us.”
“No, they won’t.”
She looked at him. Did he really think this could be solved so easily?
“We’ll tell them it’s because I’ve been called up.”
She burst into tears. She’d prayed Korea would be over before Jack’s number came up, even though she knew very well he was 1-A. Jack tried to comfort her but nothing worked.
“I haven’t been called up yet,” he whispered. “I was just saying it’s what you could tell your family.”
“You’re saying I should lie to my parents?”
He didn’t answer, which made her burst into tears again. Her life was turning into such a mess.
—
SHE HAD TO make up an excuse for not working on Saturday morning and felt guilty for lying to Daisy, telling her she was going down the shore for a family reunion. But Daisy said she’d cover for her. She told Christina to have a good day, told her she deserved a good day.
They set out on Saturday morning in Jack’s truck, only to find out, when they reached Elkton, there was now a forty-eight-hour waiting period. Christina begged the clerk to make an exception. “Please,” she cried, “you don’t understand…”
“I think I do, dear,” the clerk said.
They bought their license for a dollar, arranged for a pastor to marry them on Wednesday, April 2, because Christina would not marry on April Fool’s Day, paid five dollars in advance for a corsage, then drove back home. On Wednesday, Christina skipped school. She’d write a note tomorrow about having a twenty-four-hour virus. All the girls were coming down with it. She wore her sheer white blouse, full black taffeta skirt, heels and her best jewelry—a small gold cross around her neck, which Yaya and Papou had given her for her sixteenth birthday, and an ankle bracelet from Jack. This was, after all, her wedding day. After the brief ceremony conducted by one of the marrying parsons, the witnesses threw rice. She kept twisting the slim gold band from Goldblatt Jewelers on her finger, a ring she wouldn’t be able to wear in public.