Harriet the Spy

by Louise Fitzhugh

  As she was looking at it, with just a trace of a satisfied smile on her face, an incident happened. Rachel Hennessey passed her desk carrying a bottle of ink. It happened so fast that it was impossible to tell anything, but somehow she fell toward Harriet and a stain of spreading, running blue ink went over the Harriet M. Welsch, making it disappear, and continued toward Harriet, as she watched in horror, spilling down all over her dress, down the front even onto her legs and into her shoes and socks.

  Rachel started fluttering and saying “Oh, Miss Elson, oh, Miss Elson, look what has happened!” in a voice that wasn’t at all her own but sounded, in fact, like her mother’s. All the kids jumped up and Miss Elson came running. Harriet sat despondently, blue all over. She had grabbed at the bottle, so now she had blue ink on both hands and up her arms. Every time she moved, her arms flung spots of ink onto everyone, onto Pinky’s white shirt, onto Miss Elson’s nose.

  Everyone backed away, and Miss Elson said “Oh, Harriet” as though Harriet had done it. Harriet felt sodden. She sat there in her ink and didn’t move.

  “Now, dear, it’s not so bad. You must simply run home and take a bath and change. You’ll be back in time for math class. Rachel, that was incredibly clumsy. Sport, run to the bathroom and get some paper towels. We’ll have to wipe all this up. Pinky, run with him, bring the whole roll. My heavens, this is a mess, isn’t it?”

  There was a great deal of fuss. The interesting thing was how Rachel, Laura, Pinky, Janie, Marion, all of them cooed over Harriet when Miss Elson was watching. They helped her out of the seat, saying nice things the whole time. Then when Miss Elson went to the door to grab the paper roll from Pinky, Marion poured the rest of the ink down Harriet’s back. At this, Harriet turned and hit Marion across the face, making Marion’s face entirely blue.

  “Now, now, Harriet, we mustn’t blame others for our own trouble. That’s no way to behave. Rachel couldn’t help it and Marion had nothing to do with it. It simply was an accident, and I’m sure Rachel feels terrible about it.”

  “Oh, yes, Miss Elson, I do,” Rachel piped up hurriedly.

  “That’s right. Now, you see, Harriet? When people hurt us they are sorry afterward, and we have to forgive them quickly so they will feel better.” Miss Elson huffed and puffed.

  Rachel was laughing so hard behind Miss Elson’s back that she was almost caught when Miss Elson turned to extend her blue arm to pull Rachel toward Harriet. “No, Rachel must know that she couldn’t help what she did and you must know that too, Harriet.” Harriet shot two steely eyes in Rachel’s direction. Rachel smiled like an angel.

  “I’m terribly sorry, Harriet. I must have tripped. I really am sorry.” Her eyes were shining so much that Harriet knew she was one minute from falling on the floor in helpless laughter. Harriet threw her a contemptuous glance and looked down at her blue legs. Pinky and Sport were scrubbing away, one on each leg, as Miss Elson tried to squeeze some of the ink out of the dress into a small cup.

  Suddenly Harriet couldn’t stand it anymore. She grabbed her notebook and wrenched herself away from them all, flinging ink all over everyone as she did.

  She catapulted herself out of the door. She could hear their little flurries and shouts dimly behind her as she ran down the big steps, her feet making slush, slush noises in her ink-filled shoes. The school porter put out his arms to stop her as she went by and got a blob of ink in his eye for his trouble. She ran even faster out on the street because everyone stared at her. I’m the blue monster of East End Avenue, she thought as she careened across Eighty-sixth Street and up the block to her house.

  She was still leaving tracks as she entered her house, so she knew there would be spots on the rug but she didn’t care. The important thing was to get upstairs before anyone saw her. Her room reached at last, she fled into the bathroom and locked the door. There she began frantically to peel off all her clothes while the tears, finally come, welled forth as hot as tiny knives down her cheeks. She began to run the bath water, almost unable to see the taps.

  There was a knock on the door and the cook’s voice came through. “What’s the matter? What you doing home? You taking a bath in there?”

  “Yes,” Harriet managed to say, composing herself.

  “What you doing taking a bath when you supposed to be in school? Your mama’s not here. I’m all alone here. What am I supposed to do about you?”

  “They sent me home to take a bath. It’s all right. Go away.”

  “Who you saying ‘go away’ to? Don’t you tell me to go away. I don’t see what’s all right about it. I never heard of any child coming home middle of the day to take a bath.”

  “Well, now you’ve heard it. The teacher SENT me home.”

  There was a thick silence. “Hhrumph” came through the door. She could almost hear the cook thinking. Finally, “You not hurt, are you?”

  Harriet sighed. “No, I’m not hurt.” There was another silence, then Harriet said, “Can I have my lunch here?”

  “You already took one tomato sandwich this morning.”

  “I forgot it.”

  “The work in this house is too much. Take your bath and come downstairs. I’ll make another sandwich.”

  “TOMATO,” Harriet shouted.

  “I know, tomato, tomato. I’ll be glad if I never see another tomato.” And she shuffled away.

  Harriet sighed with relief. She put one toe in the water, immediately staining the whole tub blue. Then she lowered herself by stages into the hot tub, there to cry softly for a long time before she could bathe.

  The next afternoon after school Harriet went stealthily over the fences again to watch. There had been no more incidents in school that day except for the fact that no one would sit with her at lunch again and no one spoke to her. She was getting used to it in a way, but then, she thought, there wasn’t much else she could do.

  As she peeked through the Hennesseys’ fence, she could see that they had done quite a bit after the cake the other day. The whole structure of a little house was up except for a little to be done around the door. Beth Ellen was still working on the sign. Sport was organizing everyone to look through the remaining lumber for two nice pieces to form the sides of the door. Rachel suddenly spoke up. “My mother got a note in the mailbox yesterday. She says it was from some crank, but I saw it and I think it’s from that spy.”

  “What did it say?” Carrie asked.

  Rachel spoke importantly, “Oh, it was just ridiculous—said nobody liked me, they only liked the cake.”

  There was a small silence.

  Pinky, who was hammering, said thoughtfully, “Well, it’s very good cake.”

  Harriet laughed to herself. Pinky always said something dumb.

  Janie said, “Oh, Pinky.”

  Marion said, “I bet it was from her because that’s what she said about Rachel in that book of hers.”

  Rachel hurried on as though she hadn’t heard anything. “It said a lot of things about us making a nuisance and so forth, but really it sounded just like her. I’m sure it was her.”

  Beth Ellen got up suddenly and squeaked, “I’m finished. I’m finished.” They all hurried over and exclaimed a long time about how beautiful the sign was, what a good job Beth Ellen had done, and all that sort of thing. Beth Ellen stood and grinned wildly as though she’d just done the Sistine Chapel. I bet you, Harriet thought, that’s the first time anybody ever said anything nice to her.

  Pinky said, “Is it dry?”

  “Almost,” said Beth Ellen.

  Sport leaned down and said, “If I pick it up by the edges, I think I can hang it up. It just needs to be nailed in over the door.” He picked it up and carried it across the yard. As he was changing it from hand to hand to put it in position the face of it was turned toward Harriet and she saw with amazement that it read:

  THE SPY CATCHER CLUB

  The lettering was very bad, but then what else would Beth Ellen do? Harriet sat down with a plump on the damp ground. So it was she,
Harriet, that they were talking about. She was her. How odd, she thought, to think of yourself as her. She took out her notebook and wrote:

  THEY HAVE A CLUB AND I AM NOT IN IT. IT IS ALSO A CLUB AGAINST ME. THEY ARE REALLY OUT TO GET ME. I HAVE NEVER HAD TO GO THROUGH SOMETHING LIKE THIS. I WILL HAVE TO BE VERY BRAVE. I WILL NEVER GIVE UP THIS NOTEBOOK BUT IT IS CLEAR THAT THEY ARE GOING TO BE AS MEAN AS THEY CAN UNTIL I DO. THEY JUST DON’T KNOW HARRIET M. WELSCH.

  Harriet got up, walked solidly to the fence, and climbed noisily over. She didn’t even care if they heard her now. She knew what she had to do and she was going to do it.

  CHAPTER

  Twelve

  The next morning she arrived very early at school and was writing furiously in the notebook when they all filed in. They had been chattering excitedly among themselves, but they all stopped when they saw her. She continued to write with renewed zeal until Miss Elson came in. She stood up with the others but then sat down and wrote some more. When Miss Elson handed back the test papers from the day before she didn’t look up but just continued writing. Every now and then she would glance meaningfully at one of the others to let them know that at that very moment she was writing about THAT PERSON. They all watched her nervously. Actually she was doing nothing of the kind. She had begun to write a series of memories starting with the first thing she could remember at all, which was standing up in her crib, looking out the window at the park, and shouting with every ounce of breath in her body. She was writing a later memory:

  I REMEMBER WHEN WE LIVED AT SEVENTY-SEVENTH AND FIFTH. I HAD TO RIDE THE SCHOOL BUS EVERY DAY INSTEAD OF WALKING. THERE WAS A VERY NASTY BOY WHO LIVED IN THE NEXT APARTMENT. I WAS SEVEN AND HE WAS THREE. HIS NAME WAS CARTER WINGFELD AND HE BURPED ALL THE TIME. HE WAS SO NASTY-LOOKING THAT I PINCHED HIM ONCE WHEN HIS MOTHER WASN’T LOOKING. MY MOTHER DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS ME THAT PINCHED HIM BUT OLE GOLLY KNEW AND SHE LET ME HAVE IT GOOD FOR THAT. SHE SAID EVEN IF HE WAS THE NASTIEST THING I EVER SAW IN MY LIFE I SHOULD JUST THINK ABOUT THAT TO MYSELF AND NOT DO ANYTHING TO HIM BECAUSE HE COULDN’T HELP HIS NASTINESS.

  She looked around the room. Apprehensive glances came her way now and then; otherwise nothing was happening. She wrote:

  CAN THEY HELP WHAT THEY’RE DOING? I WISH I KNEW WHAT OLE GOLLY WOULD THINK OF THIS. I HAVE TO KNOW WHAT SHE THINKS. HOW CAN I FIND OUT? I THINK SHE WOULD SAY THAT THEY COULD BECAUSE THEY’RE TRYING TO CONTROL ME AND MAKE ME GIVE UP THIS NOTEBOOK, AND SHE ALWAYS SAID THAT PEOPLE WHO TRY TO CONTROL PEOPLE AND CHANGE PEOPLE’S HABITS ARE THE ONES THAT MAKE ALL THE TROUBLE. IF YOU DON’T LIKE SOMEBODY, WALK AWAY, SHE SAID, BUT DON’T TRY AND MAKE THEM LIKE YOU. I THINK SHE WOULD HATE THIS WHOLE THING.

  She looked up and saw everyone starting his work. She took out a piece of paper, feeling listless and bored as she did. She started to write her name at the top of the page, but it didn’t seem like any fun. She looked around at everyone. Most people weren’t looking at her, but the ones who were, Marion and Rachel in particular, had nasty looks on their faces. She looked back at the paper, gave up trying to take an interest in her own name, and went back to writing in her notebook. Miss Elson’s harsh voice finally reached her, “Harriet, you’re not paying attention.” Harriet looked up and saw everyone looking at her with contempt. They’re thinking, Just what you’d expect of her, she thought to herself. She put the notebook under the desk on her knees where Miss Elson couldn’t see it. Whenever Miss Elson turned to the blackboard Harriet looked under and wrote a little.

  THAT PINKY WHITEHEAD IS THE MOST DISGUSTING THING I EVER SAW. WHAT MUST HIS MOTHER HAVE THOUGHT THE FIRST TIME SHE LOOKED AT HIM? SHE MUST HAVE THROWN UP.

  During math class she wrote all the time. Everyone was bent over their work and Miss Harris, the math teacher, was too old to get up and walk around and look. Harriet got so involved she didn’t even think where she was. She didn’t, in fact, even hear the bell. From away far away she heard someone saying “Harriet—oh, Harriet” and then “Harriet Welsch” suddenly very loudly. She almost fell off the chair. She looked up and the room was empty except for old Miss Harris who was looking at her with the meanest look she had ever seen on a teacher. Harriet stared back at her, terrified.

  Miss Harris stood up. “It’s time to go home, Harriet, but before you go I think you had better show me what has kept you so entranced during math class.” She advanced slowly toward Harriet. Harriet could see her bony, clawlike hand covered with brown spots reaching… reaching…

  Harriet got up so fast she knocked her chair over. She caught sight of Miss Harris reeling backward away from her as she made such a great leap for the door she might have been pole vaulting. Miss Harris gasped and her hand flew to her throat, but Harriet was out and gone, hugging her notebook, running for her life.

  The next day was even worse. She didn’t even make any pretense of doing her work. She just wrote all the time. Miss Elson spoke to her four times and Miss Harris yelled three times, then gave up. At the end of the day she went straight home, had her cake and milk then took her notebook over to the park and sat on a bench. She found that she enjoyed writing under the trees.

  I HAVE HEARD THAT PIGEONS MAKE PEOPLE GET CANCER SO I WILL STAY AWAY FROM THEM. ON THE OTHER HAND THEY ARE PRETTY. I LIKE TO LOOK AT THE MAYOR’S HOUSE. IT IS A NICE WHITE HOUSE. ONCE MY DADDY TOLD ME THAT THERE WAS A LOT OF HOUSES LIKE THAT ALL UP AND DOWN THE RIVER HERE BUT THEN THEY MADE A PARK AND THREW AWAY ALL THE HOUSES. THEY SHOULD HAVE LEFT SOME OLD HAUNTED ONES FOR CHILDREN TO GO AND PLAY IN. I WOULD HAVE LOCKED PINKY IN THE BASEMENT UNTIL HIS HAIR TURNED WHITE.

  I LIKE THE TUGBOATS. I DON’T HAVE ANYONE TO PLAY WITH. I DON’T EVEN HAVE ANYONE TO TALK TO NOW THEY GOT RID OF OLE GOLLY. I AM GOING TO FINISH UP THESE MEMOIRS AND SELL THEM TO THE BOOK OF THE MONTH SELECTION THEN MY MOTHER WILL GET THE BOOK IN THE MAIL AS A SURPRISE. THEN I WILL BE SO RICH AND FAMOUS THAT PEOPLE WILL BOW IN THE STREETS AND SAY THERE GOES HARRIET M. WELSCH—SHE IS VERY FAMOUS YOU KNOW. RACHEL HENNESSEY WILL PLOTZ.

  Harriet looked up when she heard the toot toot of a toy whistle. She raised her eyebrows at what she saw.

  They were making a parade along the river. The Boy with the Purple Socks, now wearing green socks, walked in front carrying the flagpole with the purple socks attached. There was a rat-a-tat-tat from a toy drum that Pinky Whitehead was beating, and behind them there was a squadron formed by Rachel Hennessey, Marion Hawthorne, Carrie Andrews, Laura Peters, Beth Ellen, and Sport and Janie. They marched in formation like a platoon, and when they turned, Harriet could see a sign attached to Beth Ellen’s back which said:

  THIS PARADE THE COURTESY OF THE SPY CATCHER CLUB

  Harriet sat frozen, watching them march up and down. She was afraid to move because they might see her. Her worst fears were realized a moment later when Marion Hawthorne gave a big blast on the whistle and gestured frantically. Nine heads turned in Harriet’s direction. Harriet stiffened. They were going to march right past her.

  They turned into the lane sedately. Harriet didn’t know what to do. She felt that if she showed any reaction at all it would please them too much. On the other hand, if she showed no reaction at all when a whole parade was marching right under her nose they would know they had affected her.

  She sat stiffly on her bench. It was horribly embarrassing. It seemed to take about an hour for them to come toward her and then they were passing in front of her. As they went past she felt like General Eisenhower reviewing the troops. It took everything she had not to salute.

  When they got close she saw that The Boy with the Purple Socks wore a sign around his neck which said:

  ASK TO BE TOLD THE LEGEND OF THE PURPLE SOCKS 10 CENTS

  When they were directly opposite her they all stuck their tongues out in unison as though they had practiced, and Pinky gave an extra little roll to the drum.

  They marched away. Would they come back around? Harriet opened her notebook:

  WELL THAT’S NOT MY FAULT. I NEVER TOLD HIM TO WEAR OR NOT WEAR PURPLE SOCKS. HE SHOULD HAVE KEPT ON WE
ARING PURPLE SOCKS. SOME PEOPLE ACT LIKE A MARTYR AT THE DROP OF A HAT, OR A SOCK, HA HA. I HEAR THEM COMING BACK. I THINK I WILL GO HOME.

  Harriet walked casually away from the bench. When she saw they were coming around again, she dove under a bush until they marched past. Then she went home, went up to her room, and closed the door.

  WELL, I JUST WON’T GO TO THE PARK ANYMORE. THAT’S NOTHING. WHO WANTS TO GO THERE IF IT’S FULL OF IDIOTS WALKING AROUND IN PARADES. I CAN WRITE IN MY NOTEBOOK JUST AS WELL SITTING ON MY BED. I DON’T CARE ABOUT THEIR DUMB OLD CLUB ANYWAY IF ALL THEY’RE GOING TO DO IS MARCH AROUND A LOT.

  There was a knock on the door, and when Harriet said, “What?” her mother entered.

  “Harriet, I’ve got to talk to you. I’ve just come back from your school. Miss Elson called me up this afternoon and said that I had better come over and have a talk about you.”

  Harriet’s throat closed up.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of. She just wanted to talk about your school work. She says that for the last week you haven’t done any at all. What about it?”

  “I haven’t anything to say.”

  “What do you mean? Did you do your work or not?”

  “No. I don’t think so. I can’t remember.”

  “Harriet, these are very unsatisfactory answers. Is something else bothering you?”

  “No.”

  Harriet’s mother pulled the chair over to the bed, sat down, and stared at Harriet. “What have you got there?”

  “What?” Harriet looked around innocently.

  “You know perfectly well what. Is that the same notebook?”

  “No, a different one.”

  “You know what I mean, Harriet. Are you still writing down mean things about people?”