Listen for the Singing

by Jean Little

  “It’s been fascinating eavesdropping from the hall,” Gretchen said, “but I know my cue to enter when I hear it. What’s Isobel got that I haven’t, Anna Solden?”

  Anna gaped at her.

  Eileen Schumacher stood up and put one arm around Gretchen’s shoulders.

  “That’s the last bit of Isobel’s message,” she said, looking down at Anna. “But I’m glad it’s happened this way.”

  “Message?” Anna repeated, still at a loss. Could a sister be a friend?

  “She said, ‘Tell her to ask Gretchen. She’s a tower of strength and she knows everything,’” Mrs. Schumacher quoted Isobel.

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Papa said slowly, smiling just a little.

  “Well, Anna,” Gretchen demanded, pretending not to notice her father. “Did you have something you wanted to ask me?”

  Anna searched for words and a steady voice to go with them. “Will you take me to school tomorrow morning?” she got out, finally. “Please.”

  “I’ve given it due consideration,” her sister said, “and the answer’s yes.”

  Relief opened inside Anna like the petals of a flower unfurling.

  “Poor Isobel,” she said, suddenly able to think beyond her own fear.

  “Isobel?” Gretchen echoed, feeling sorry for Isobel herself but wondering precisely why Anna was.

  “To be sick in bed,” Anna said, “and to be an only child.”

  As Mrs. Schumacher was going out the door, she slipped an envelope into Anna’s hand.

  “Isobel gave me this,” she said. “She said to tell you to read it when you were by yourself. And, Anna, if ever you need me, just come. I’ll do my best to help.”

  “Thank you,” Anna said, knowing that it was a real promise.

  She took the letter up to her alcove as soon as she’d waved goodbye.

  Dear Anna,

  Mrs. Schumacher will get you to start tomorrow, I know, so I won’t go on about that. I just have one thing I want to say. It’s important so pay attention and don’t waste time getting mad. Remember that I always know best.

  At the end of that sentence she had drawn a small smiling face.

  Tomorrow do NOT act the way you did when you first came to the Sight Saving Class, stiff and hard to talk to and never smiling. We knew you were just scared but high school kids aren’t that smart.

  Smile! Don’t wait for one of them to smile first either. Smile as though they’ve already smiled and you’re smiling back. If one ignores you, cross her off and smile at others till you find a friend. You can do it.

  Good luck! Phone me tomorrow night and tell me what happens.

  Love,

  Isobel

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, Anna got dressed with great care. Gretchen had inspected her outfit the night before and approved. She put on a white blouse, a grey pleated skirt, white ankle socks, and the sturdy oxfords which Mama insisted on, even though they were expensive and the girls hated them. She undid her hair, plaited in two pigtails for the night, and brushed it hard, hoping it would somehow change from a dull brown to a brown with golden glints. She then rebraided it, crossing the braids over the top of her head, toward the front, so they would look like a crown. At least, that was what Mama claimed. To Anna, they looked ugly, with wisps slipping loose no matter how tightly she did the braids and regardless of how many bobby pins she used to try to hold them in place. It was impossible hair.

  She dawdled till the other girls went down, calling to her to hurry. Then, picking up the powder-blue cardigan Papa had given her for her birthday, she went in to the full-length mirror which stood in her sisters’ room. She did not want to look because she knew it would be anything but encouraging, but somehow she could not go off to face strangers without checking on her appearance.

  She saw her usual roundish solemn face, her thick glasses which made her blue-grey eyes look bigger but not more beautiful, her crown of braids, her neat appearance. One thing helped. The sweater made her eyes look more blue than grey. She had been very careful with the sweater, only wearing it on very special occasions, and it looked brand new.

  “It’s lovely,” Gretchen had said, the night before, stroking it. “I just hope it’s not too warm for you to wear it.”

  “If it is, I’ll carry it over my arm in case it turns cool later,” Anna said, having already made up her mind about that.

  If only I were prettier, she thought, staring at herself. What I look is dull.

  Then she thought of Isobel’s letter. She smiled at herself. Isobel was absolutely right. The smile did make a difference. She really must remember to smile the way she had been told.

  When she went down to breakfast, Mama took one look at her and disappeared into her bedroom. A moment later, she was back with a small velvet box. Anna, recognizing it, held her breath. It was Mama’s cameo, an ivory face set in an oval of Wedgwood blue. Mama took it from its box and tipping up Anna’s chin, pinned it at the neck of her blouse.

  “What did you do to deserve that, Anna?” Frieda demanded, pretending to be overcome by envy.

  “It’s exactly right,” Gretchen said. “I tried to think of something last night but I had nothing that would do. You’re a genius, Mama.”

  Mama smiled and kissed Anna on the top of her head, much to everyone’s amazement.

  “It is a special moment,” she said sentimentally. “My baby is growing up.”

  She pulled a handkerchief out of her apron pocket, blew her nose briskly, and proceeded in her usual half-scolding voice, “Don’t just sit, Anna. Eat. You can’t begin high school on an empty stomach.”

  But Anna had trouble eating enough to satisfy her mother. She sipped at her hot chocolate instead. It slid down when nothing else would.

  “Come on, Anna,” Gretchen said at last. “I know, Mama. She hasn’t eaten enough to keep a bird alive. But she’ll eat plenty when she comes home. If I’m to get her registered before the assembly starts, we have to leave right this minute.”

  Mama came to the door to watch them set out.

  “Be careful crossing the streets on your way home, Liebling,” she called after them.

  On your way home. Magic words. Anna turned and waved wildly.

  “Goodbye, Mama,” she called. “Thank you for lending me your brooch. Goodbye!”

  “You’re only going half a mile and you’ll be back at noon,” Gretchen said.

  “By noon?”

  “Sure. This morning there’s an assembly first thing. Then there’s your regular schedule of classes except they’re cut short. Just long enough for you to find out each teacher’s name, see where all the rooms you have to go to are, fill in seating plans, and find out what books you need to buy. Nobody should assign homework even, but somebody always does.”

  Noon, Anna thought. However awful it was, it would all be over within three and a half hours.

  She hurried to keep up. As they neared the school, Gretchen stopped to greet several friends, explaining each time that she was getting Anna registered and she’d see them later. Anna wanted to thank her sister but the right moment never seemed to come. Then they were there.

  “We go this way, Anna,” Gretchen said. “Hold onto my arm or I might lose you in the crowd.”

  Anna clutched her older sister’s elbow with her right hand. Over her other arm, she carried the blue sweater. Now she hugged it close to herself for comfort and, tugged along by Gretchen, entered Davenport Collegiate for the first time.

  Other girls and boys pushed in behind her, blocking the exit. She thought, It’s a trap. And I’m caught.

  “Anna, don’t hold on that tight. You’re breaking my arm,” Gretchen said. Then she turned her head and looked down at Anna’s face.

  “Don’t worry so,” she said gently. “I won’t leave you. And anyway, it’s not forever.”

  They were in the middle of a pushing mob. Anna would have had to shout to make Gretchen hear. She had only half-heard Gretchen, half-read the
words on her lips. But she fought down the panic she knew her sister had sensed. She did not think she could smile, though.

  Then a boy, going by them, said, “Welcome back to the dungeon, Gret.”

  And Gretchen laughed.

  “Hi, Barry,” she said.

  If Gretchen could laugh at dungeon!

  Anna smiled. It was a shaky smile. But it was a smile. Then, gathering courage from her own effort to be brave, she leaned close to her big sister and did shout, loudly enough to be heard.

  “Lead on,” she said. “Show me the way to my cell.”

  “You start here, at the warden’s office,” Gretchen shouted back.

  The woman behind the desk had enrolled a lot of new students already that morning. She scarcely glanced up as Anna, Gretchen right behind her, came to a halt before her desk.

  “Grade Nine?” she asked and then, without looking up to catch Anna’s nod, went on as though she already knew. “Your name?”

  “Anna Solden,” Anna said, trying hard to speak in a clear firm voice that would not betray to this indifferent woman the rapid pounding of her heart, the queasy feeling in her stomach, and the trembling of her knees. She was amazed to hear her voice sounding exactly the way she intended it to!

  “Solden … Solden … Here it is. Anna Elisabeth. Right?”

  This time, the woman did look up, so Anna simply nodded again. No use taking chances on her voice staying calm.

  “Let’s see. You’re in Mr. Lloyd’s homeroom. 9E. It’s on this same floor. Turn left after you leave here and …”

  “I know the way,” Gretchen said. “I’ll show her. She’s my sister.”

  The woman looked up again, her tiredness and her efficiency both vanishing for a moment, and smiled at Gretchen.

  “Nice to see you back,” she said. “I should have guessed. Have you any more Soldens at home?”

  “She’s the last,” Gretchen told her. “Five more years and you’ll be rid of all of us.”

  “I don’t expect to last out the day, let alone five years, but I’d better keep at it. Next, please.”

  As the girls left, Anna heard a voice saying, “Maggie de Vries.”

  Maggie didn’t sound scared at all.

  But then, neither did I, Anna told herself.

  Then she and Gretchen were making their way down the crowded hall to find 9E.

  Gretchen pulled Anna off to one side and stopped walking.

  “Who did she say the teacher was?” Anna asked, taking advantage of the slight lessening of noise.

  “Mr. Lloyd,” Gretchen said, her face close to Anna’s. “That’s what I want to warn you about. Mr. Lloyd’s …”

  “The meanest man alive,” Anna filled in.

  “How did you know?”

  “I remember somebody saying it last year. Fritz maybe. But I’d forgotten till you said his name in that loathing kind of way,” Anna explained. She felt a tightening in her chest. “Is he really?”

  “Yes. You could have heard any of us saying it. We’ve been saying it every day for years. Mr. Lloyd is mean and he’s a rotten teacher and he’s unfair. He has teacher’s pets too. But you won’t be one.”

  Anna did not think she would ever be a teacher’s pet although she knew Mrs. Schumacher had liked her a lot. She hurriedly pushed the thought of Mrs. Schumacher out of her mind.

  “He’s taught all the rest of us,” Gretchen explained, “and he hasn’t liked one. When he hears the name Solden, he’ll have it in for you right away.”

  “But what did you all do?” Anna asked, incredulous. She had always thought of her brothers and sisters, with the possible exception of Fritz, as being model students.

  “He didn’t mind me too much,” Gretchen admitted. “Rudi was the one who really drove him mad.”

  “Rudi!” Anna echoed, astonished. Rudi, she thought for sure, was teacher’s pet every time.

  “Mr. Lloyd had to teach this one class of history. The teacher who was supposed to take it died or something. I don’t know. Anyway, he didn’t know his history that well and Rudi was smarter than he was and …”

  Anna didn’t need to have it explained any further. She could just hear Rudi correcting the teacher. She felt a momentary stab of pity for this Mr. Lloyd.

  “What I’m trying to say is — don’t make him notice you, Anna. Don’t ask him any questions and just — be careful, that’s all. If only he wasn’t your homeroom teacher! We’d better get moving. I just had to warn you so if he says anything nasty, you’ll be prepared.”

  They went on, hurrying now.

  “Here’s the door,” Gretchen announced suddenly. “Now, just remember how we got here and you’ll be able to find it again after the assembly.”

  Anna stared at her sister dumbly. She had simply followed along. How could she have paid attention with Mr. Lloyd to think about?

  “Anna, look at the door so you’ll recognize it,” Gretchen ordered, impatience creeping into her voice for the first time. Anna understood. Gretchen wanted to get back to her friends. She looked, obediently, at the classroom door. Then she glanced down the hall in first one direction and then the other. As far as she could see, identical doors lined the hallway.

  “It says Mr. Lloyd 9E right there on the card,” Gretchen pointed out, the impatience more noticeable.

  Anna did see that there was a small card fitted into a brass slot on the door but she saw nothing written on it. She moved closer. Still no words were visible. Just a greyish blur where the words must be. She would have to go up on tiptoe and put her nose right against it to be sure. Still, she guessed she could, if she really had to.

  “Yes, I see,” she murmured, looking down.

  And, doing so, she discovered to her relief and delight, a big, crooked scratch farther down, going right across the varnish. It looked as though somebody had done it on purpose with the point of a compass maybe. But how it got there didn’t matter.

  “I’ll recognize it,” she said, lifting her head and facing Gretchen with assurance.

  “Good. I’ll take you to the gym where we have assembly. Watch how we go and you’ll be able to get back here. If you think you can’t, I could meet you after. My class sits near the back and yours sits right up in the front rows. Do you think you can find the way again?”

  Anna longed to say no but she could tell Gretchen was hoping she wouldn’t. She rubbed her sweaty palms on her skirt and took a deep breath.

  “I’ll be okay,” she said.

  “It isn’t hard really,” Gretchen said, sounding pleased. They came to the gym. She led Anna up to the front.

  “There’s where you sit.”

  She pointed to four empty chairs in the first row. Anna started toward them, forcing herself to move resolutely. Then she stopped and turned back. Gretchen was waiting, making sure she made it safely.

  “Thanks a lot, Gretchen,” she said, not sure the words would carry over the buzz of talk in the auditorium. Gretchen smiled and wiggled her thumb up and down in the family good-luck sign. When Anna reached the chairs, two were still vacant. She sat down on the nearest one quickly before anybody else could take it. She looked back to where Gretchen had been standing, but her sister was gone.

  Anna felt all her courage suddenly drain away, as though she had pulled out a plug in a basin. She could not put the plug back in, but she could sit there and pretend she was no different from all the other students. She might not feel brave but she could keep herself from crying or from shaking so everyone could see. So what if she looked unfriendly! She sat, stiff as a stone statue, and waited.

  A teacher walked across the stage and sat down at the piano. Anna automatically rose with everyone else and stood at attention. She listened to the others’ singing “God Save the King.” All around her, kids were joining right in, even though they must be newcomers too, by what Gretchen had said. Anna moved her mouth and hoped she looked as though she were singing as loudly as any of them.

  At the end, she almost sat down. Some of t
he other new students did sit, but scrambled up again when they saw the older students still on their feet.

  A tall boy came to the microphone. Anna could see he had something in his hand. A slip of paper? He led them in the Lord’s Prayer. Anna, saying the words inside her head, didn’t close her eyes. She watched the boy. She thought he was reading the words. Didn’t he know them? He must. But leading everyone must make him nervous, though he looked at least as old as Gretchen. Anna felt slightly better about her own fears. Nearing the finish of the prayer, she did murmur one line aloud, changing it to a personal plea: “Deliver me from evil.”

  The next moment, they were all sitting down. The boy introduced himself. He was last year’s Student Council president. Anna realized suddenly that she had a slight advantage over some of the other beginners. She had been listening to her brothers and sisters talk about this school for years. She was glad that the twins and Gretchen were somewhere in this very same hall. Even without Isobel, she had protectors.

  “And now I’ll turn things over to our principal, Mr. Appleby,” the boy said.

  The students cheered, clapped, stamped their feet. One or two even whistled.

  They must really like him, Anna thought.

  She wished she had a watch. How much of the morning was over? That was what she wanted to know. Not much, she decided. Noon seemed light-years away. If she couldn’t find Mr. Lloyd’s room, what would she do? If she just stood there, till everyone else went away, someone would be sure to see her and come to ask why she wasn’t at a class and then …

  The crowd burst out laughing. Mr. Appleby must have told a joke. She tuned in for a moment. He was talking about working hard. She let her thoughts drift again. Then, a familiar name made her really pay attention.

  “… Rudi Solden, who wrote his Departmentals last June and got perfect marks in advanced chemistry and trigonometry. He also came very close to one hundred percent in advanced physics. Rudi should be an inspiration to all of you. He came to Canada just five years ago, speaking very little English. But it improved by leaps and bounds, and his school work was never less than excellent. We were delighted when he was awarded the McNab Memorial Scholarship. We know he’ll go on to win more honours at the University of Toronto in his chosen course of math, physics, and chemistry. But we’ll always be proud to know that he is a graduate of this school. I see other Soldens looking up at me. Gretchen and Frieda, each in her own way, have contributed much to D.C.V.I. Fritz, now, would do well to ponder on his brother’s academic success and do a little more homework, although what we’d do without him on the basketball court, I don’t know. Miss Gregory, in the office, told me just before I came out here, that the last of the Soldens is beginning school here this morning.”