‘Accept this handkerchief! With my own hand for thee I’ve work’d it in my hours of sadness and interwoven with my scalding tears: with this thou’lt bind my eyes.’
And so the burly executioner tied the veil around her eyes, and unseen, he lifted his axe, its sharpened edge stained with the blood of earlier beheadings, and holding it high aloft, he plummeted it against her fair flesh.”
Meryl Lee glanced at Marian. She looked a little pale. She was moving even farther away across her room.
“‘The blood of earlier beheadings’?” said Marian.
“It’s got panache,” said Meryl Lee.
Marian swallowed. Her eyes seemed to have forgotten how to blink.
They decided that after the opening scene with panache, Marian would talk about how Mary Stuart was queen of France for a year until her husband died. Then Meryl Lee would talk about how Mary Stuart was married to her cousin until he was killed in an explosion. Then Marian would talk about how Mary Stuart was forced to abdicate. Then Meryl Lee would talk about how Mary Stuart was arrested by Queen Elizabeth and tried for treason. Then together they would act out her beheading, which took the executioner two tries.
“If we used some fake blood,” Meryl Lee said, “everything would be a lot more dramatic. I mean, talk about panache.”
“Blood?” Marian said.
“There would have to be enough for two tries. Maybe Miss Ames has some real blood we could use.”
Marian pale again.
“I could be the executioner,” said Meryl Lee. “You can’t lift an axe because of your pinky. Or maybe we should get Heidi to play the executioner. That would have panache. Have you seen how Heidi slashes her field hockey stick? If I was Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, and I wanted to get my beheading over with, I’d pick Heidi Kidder as my executioner. It wouldn’t take two tries.”
Marian said they had better stop since it was almost time for Evening Meal.
She backed out of her room.
* * *
Evening Meal was stuffed pork chops and three-bean salad and carrots in light brown sugar. Dessert was lemon cheesecake—a specialty of Mrs. Wyss, who would perhaps share the recipe with the eighth graders later in the semester during Domestic Economy. Polite conversation going on—except Ashley kept calling over to Jennifer and Charlotte from Charlotte from Mrs. Bellamy’s table until Mrs. Saunders politely asked Jennifer Hartley Truro to rise and consult Funk and Wagnalls on the word decorum. The tinkling of forks on plates. Candles on tables. Linen napkins on laps.
The serving girls were in their black dresses and white aprons. Alethea served Meryl Lee’s table, her eyes mostly on the floor. Meryl Lee wondered who Alethea knew in Vietnam. Maybe she felt the Blank too, thought Meryl Lee.
Then Alethea leaned down and asked if Miss Kowalski would like her to take her plate. And Meryl Lee felt . . . well, she wasn’t sure what.
But she didn’t have time to say anything, because Jennifer tapped her glass and Bettye, who was standing by the water pitchers, came over to pour. “From the right,” said Jennifer. “Do we have to teach you everything? You pour from the right.”
“Yes, Miss Truro,” said Bettye. “I’m sorry.”
Meryl Lee watched as Bettye moved to Miss Truro’s other side and poured from the right.
Shame. That’s what Meryl Lee felt. It was shame.
It bothered Meryl Lee more than she could stand that she sat while Bettye and Alethea brought the dishes in and took the dishes out and brought the dishes in and took the dishes out and all the time they were not supposed to meet anyone’s eyes and they weren’t supposed to speak unless spoken to and they had to say, “Yes, Miss Truro,” or “No, Miss Dobrée.”
It really bothered Meryl Lee more than she could stand to hear Bettye call Jennifer “Miss Truro” and Charlotte from Charlotte “Miss Dobrée.”
It was even worse when Bettye called her “Miss Kowalski.”
So Meryl Lee stood. She picked up her tall crystal glass.
And Mrs. Saunders said, “Miss Kowalski?”
Meryl Lee said, “I’m thirsty. I’ll just be a second.”
Mrs. Saunders said, “One of the servers will bring the water to you.”
“I’m fine,” Meryl Lee said.
“Miss Kowalski,” said Mrs. Saunders.
Meryl Lee thought she saw Mrs. Connolly turn her way, but she walked over to the table where the water pitchers were anyway.
In Greater Hoxne Dining Hall, polite conversation stopped.
The tinkling of forks ceased. Meryl Lee could feel eyes all over her.
She walked to the table. Bettye was standing beside it, her eyes on the floor until Meryl Lee came close.
Meryl Lee picked up a pitcher and Bettye whispered, “What are you doing?”
“I’m thirsty,” said Meryl Lee.
“I’ll bring you the water,” said Bettye.
Meryl Lee looked at Bettye. “I’m right here,” she said.
Bettye looked at her as though she was afraid.
Meryl Lee filled her glass and put the pitcher down and walked back to her seat.
No one at her table spoke during the rest of the meal. When the upper school students of St. Elene’s were dismissed, no one except Heidi said anything to her.
Heidi said, “Sticks down.”
“Is a glass of water so important?” said Meryl Lee.
“It’s not about the glass of water,” said Heidi.
But Mrs. Connolly stopped Heidi and Meryl Lee in Greater Hoxne lobby. “We won’t speak about this tonight,” she said. “But we will tomorrow morning. Before Chapel. In my office.”
“Meryl Lee didn’t do—”
“Miss Kidder, please join Miss Kowalski in my office. Eight o’clock.”
That night, Meryl Lee laid her head against the windowpane and looked out. She could feel the cold through the glass. The bare trees were black.
Did a glass of water matter so much?
* * *
The next morning, a note from Mrs. Connolly had been slid under Meryl Lee’s door, notifying her of the appointment with Mrs. Connolly at 8:00 a.m. precisely.
Heidi got one too.
As if they might have forgotten.
So at 8:00 a.m. precisely, they knocked at Mrs. Connolly’s door, and when they heard “Enter,” they opened it slowly.
Mrs. Connolly was standing behind her desk. The office walls were bright white. The carpet was office gray. A gray file cabinet close behind her. Her glass desktop completely swept—not a book, not a pen, not a single piece of paper.
Mrs. Connolly gestured to two chairs.
Meryl Lee and Heidi sat down.
Immediately Meryl Lee felt her toes starting to lose all feeling.
Mrs. Connolly sat behind her desk. “Miss Kowalski, do you know what rule you violated last night?”
This seemed like a trap, but Meryl Lee said, “I stood up and got a glass of water.”
And Mrs. Connolly said, “I did not ask what you did. I asked what rule you violated.”
“She got a glass of water,” Heidi said.
Meryl Lee coughed a little to warn Heidi, but Heidi didn’t want to be warned.
“You violated a social rule,” said Mrs. Connolly. “You were shockingly rude and completely careless of the codes of St. Elene’s Preparatory Academy for Girls.”
“Mrs. Connolly,” Meryl Lee said.
“Excuse me,” Mrs. Connolly said. “I understand that in this day and age, it seems that authority is to be ignored completely. Your generation calls this ‘freedom.’ It is not. You are here as a student. Bettye Buckminster is here as a member of the staff. Alethea Browning is here as a member of the staff. You have your place. They have their place—though you have now jeopardized it.”
“Their place?” said Meryl Lee.
“They know it and you know it, so do not be impertinent, Miss Kowalski. This is not a state university where the faculty may be cowed by students in beads and blue jeans. This is St
. Elene’s. Those unable to abide by its code of conduct will be dismissed. And in this case, I promise you that your dismissal would be accompanied by that of Bettye Buckminster and Alethea Browning.”
Meryl Lee felt as if she were in a play.
She also felt Resolution.
She stood.
Meryl Lee: That would be unfair, Mrs. Connolly.
Mrs. Connolly: That is not for you to judge.
Meryl Lee: Isn’t being at St. Elene’s all about learning to decide for ourselves?
Mrs. Connolly: Continued impertinence impresses no one, Miss Kowalski. And you are confusing independence with license.
Meryl Lee: Isn’t being at St. Elene’s all about deciding what we believe in, and overcoming Obstacles, and becoming Accomplished?
Mrs. Connolly: Within sanctioned limits.
Meryl Lee: And after deciding what we believe in, shouldn’t we be acting out of those beliefs?
Mrs. Connolly: Not when those beliefs violate the school’s code of conduct.
Meryl Lee: Then maybe the school’s code of conduct needs some work.
Heidi: (Coughs a little loudly.)
Mrs. Connolly: (Stands to match Meryl Lee.) As may the character of those who willfully violate it.
Meryl Lee: (Puts her hands on her hips, sort of like Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, but refusing to bow her head to the block.)
Mrs. Connolly: (Puts her hands on her hips too, sort of like the executioner eager to lift the axe.)
Heidi: (Coughs a little loudly again.)
But suddenly, as if this really were a play, there was a dramatic knock on the door, and Dr. MacKnockater entered and spoke her lines.
“I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Connolly, but I have need of both Meryl Lee and Heidi. Are you finished with them?”
Mrs. Connolly’s eyes did not leave Meryl Lee’s eyes and Meryl Lee’s eyes did not leave Mrs. Connolly’s eyes. Hands at hips.
“I do not believe we have come to complete understanding,” said Mrs. Connolly slowly.
“It is in regards to the vice-presidential luncheon,” said Dr. MacKnockater.
“The vice-presidential luncheon is in the spring,” Mrs. Connolly said.
“So there is no time to lose,” Dr. MacKnockater said. “I hope you don’t mind. Reaching complete understanding can take awfully long. Thank you.” And she held out her arms to Meryl Lee and Heidi.
As they left, Mrs. Connolly didn’t say anything. Meryl Lee didn’t say anything. Heidi didn’t say anything.
It was pretty quiet.
Meryl Lee walked out with her arms straight down and her fists clenched. If she had been holding Heidi’s field hockey stick—forget the glass-top desk. Entire corridors at Lesser Hoxne Hall would now be impassable with rubble.
They walked to Dr. MacKnockater’s rooms at Sherbourne, and while they walked through the cold morning, whenever Meryl Lee or Heidi began to speak, Dr. MacKnockater held up her hand to stop them. She had to hold up her hand several times.
When they reached her rooms, Dr. MacKnockater closed the door and immediately Meryl Lee said, “It’s so unfair—” and Dr. MacKnockater held up her hand again and said, “I think a cup of tea. Miss Kidder, if you would get the teacups, and Miss Kowalski the tea bags—just there, in that cupboard—I will put the kettle on.”
And ten minutes later, over steaming Earl Grey, Dr. MacKnockater suggested that change comes slowly but inexorably to people of goodwill, that it is possible to be right but to be right at the wrong time and place, that those who have the skill and wit and desire to bring about changed hearts will learn to do it by small and peaceful acts with accumulated power that would be greater than a revolution. And, she pointed out, when all the risk is being taken by Bettye Buckminster and Alethea Browning, maybe we should hold back a little and wait for St. Elene’s to catch up to the rest of the country—which, she said, is heading in the right direction, even if it is not heading there very quickly.
“It isn’t, is it?” Meryl Lee said.
“No, it isn’t,” she said. “But it’s still the right direction.”
Meryl Lee told her she would think about this.
Dr. MacKnockater said she would pour again.
And then, with their second cup of tea and calm spirits, Dr. MacKnockater told Heidi Kidder and Meryl Lee Kowalski that they were now appointed to the organizing committee for the vice-presidential luncheon. “I would rather not have it appear that I deceived Mrs. Connolly,” she said.
* * *
Meryl Lee wasn’t exactly in the mood for field hockey practice that afternoon, Coach Rowlandson could tell. “Meryl Lee Kowalski, you run as if about to commit homicide.”
“I might,” she said.
“You can’t,” Coach Rowlandson said.
“Why not?”
“Because it would be against the laws of God and man, and they’d send you away to Sing Sing, and I am considering you for right wing next season.”
“Right wing?”
“And not only that, but what will happen to the revolution at St. Elene’s?”
Meryl Lee looked at Coach Rowlandson.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the rise of the proletariat. Imagine, girls pouring their own water. What will come of that? Girls making their own beds? Girls earning their own money for their own pearl necklaces? Girls thinking of getting jobs?”
“I wasn’t thinking of starting a revolution at St. Elene’s.”
“What you did was brave and heroic and full of heart, and maybe a revolution wouldn’t be such a bad thing. But you should still run with your hands unclenched.”
Meryl Lee kept her hands unclenched, and when practice was over and she was about to head back to Netley, Coach Rowlandson said, “Sticks down, Kowalski.”
And Meryl Lee thought, Maybe Coach Rowlandson is a good egg.
* * *
The last week of October, and now the sun was rising up in a fog just before breakfast and setting in long yellow shadows before Evening Meal. The leaves of the St. Elene’s maples were mostly gone and the grass was turning that gray-green color that means it’s done for the year. Dr. MacKnockater had been patrolling the wall with two gardeners, setting burlap over the azaleas, pruning the hydrangeas back, turning the soil around the perennial beds.
She finished just in time. That same week, a cold, drizzly, almost icy rain settled over St. Elene’s Preparatory Academy for Girls and decided it would stay for a few days, so that the girls scurried back and forth across the campus hidden by umbrellas and hoods, and sometimes by the notebooks they held over their heads. The rain pulled all the color out of any leaf still hanging on, and then drearied the clapboard buildings with a patina of gray and chilled everyone straight to the bone—to the bone!
And maybe that’s why everything that happened that week was so bleak and cold.
On Monday the students of St. Elene’s Preparatory Academy for Girls received their first quarter evaluations—which weren’t all bleak for Meryl Lee, but didn’t quite warm her heart. Some of the comments were okay—“Miss Kowalski shows creditable skills in Algebra; I anticipate a strong year for her,” wrote Mr. Wheelock—and some of the comments were not really okay—“Miss Kowalski has yet to show the kind of discernment that will lead to success in this course of study,” wrote Mrs. Connolly—and some were impossible to figure out—“Meryl Lee is just a cupcake to have in class,” wrote Mrs. Wyss.
On Tuesday, it was so drizzly and dreary that Meryl Lee hoped that field hockey practice would be called off—but drizzles and dreariness didn’t matter to Coach Rowlandson. It would have to be a whole lot drizzlier and a whole lot drearier before she’d call off a day of field hockey practice. So when it was finished, Meryl Lee and Heidi were looking pretty drizzly and dreary themselves, and they were coming back to Netley carrying the huge canvas bag with the extra field hockey sticks and maybe they were not looking as young ladies should, which is probably what Mrs. Kellogg thought, since when she saw them
she said that tours for prospective students and their parents were heading to Netley Dormitory right then and could Meryl Lee and Heidi enter through the back instead of through the lobby? So they lugged the canvas bag all the way around to the back and there was Alethea, just coming out of the dorm to get her ride home on the train.
And Meryl Lee thought she looked drizzly and dreary and exhausted.
But Alethea pulled open the back door and stood holding it for them. The whole time, she looked down at the ground.
Meryl Lee was ashamed.
“Thank you,” she said.
Alethea did not answer.
She only looked down at the ground.
Meryl Lee walked in like she was supposed to.
But she was still ashamed.
The door closed behind them.
Then on Wednesday afternoon, Ashley and Charlotte from Charlotte came into the room and Jennifer announced that the Knock might be on her way out. How did Jennifer come upon this information? Because her father had read a letter protesting the Vietnam War that appeared in the New York Times, written by one Dr. Nora MacKnockater, Headmistress of St. Elene’s Preparatory Academy for Girls.
At this news, shrieks of horror from Ashley and Charlotte from Charlotte.
And, Dr. Nora MacKnockater said Hubert H. Humphrey—the Democrat!—was the candidate best suited to get the United States out of the war.
More shrieks of horror.
And, Dr. Nora MacKnockater said the draft was immoral, almost as immoral as the war itself!
Even more shrieks of horror.
So, said Jennifer, her father was going to speak with Mr. Lloyd C. Allen to see what could be done, and what he wanted done, she said, would get done.
Meryl Lee said, “The United States Constitution grants us freedom of speech. Dr. MacKnockater has the right to say what she wants.”
Jennifer and Ashley and Charlotte from Charlotte looked at her, then looked back at one another.
“Maybe the Knock will be gone by Christmas,” said Ashley.
Charlotte from Charlotte shook her head and her auburn curls flounced.
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