But stupidly, I still believe they might ask me to sit down. We’re all in this together, after all. Then again, maybe not.
“Out shopping?” Cape says, as if I were insane to be hitting the stores with such a momentous day ahead of us.
“Not really. I just needed to pick something up.”
“Oh,” he says. “Bettina, could you please let my mother and me finish our meal?”
But I’m not ready to leave just yet.
“Mrs. Morse,” I say, “I just want to apologize that Cape and I got into this situation. I wish we hadn’t.” I think this might melt her resolve, show her that I’m not Babs, that I do have the capacity for remorse. However, Mags remains unmoved.
“It’s really too late for apologies, Bettina,” she says. “I don’t know if your mother put you up to this, but it wouldn’t surprise me.”
I want to say that Cape wasn’t the victim here and that Babs had nothing to do with this. But I’m not sure that this is entirely true.
30. Judgment Day
October 1983
FINALLY, WEDNESDAY. STUDENT JUDICIAL committee meeting at four, followed by the faculty trial at five. Stud Jud, as it’s known, gets one vote on our fate, almost a formality with no real consequences. Just ensures that we have the embarrassment of being judged by our peers. I haven’t forgotten that Meredith is on the committee. Wonder if she’s the tiniest bit mad at Cape or if she will pin the whole thing on me.
I sleep poorly the night before, and despite my resolve, I leave Bright at five A.M. for a smoke or, rather, for many. I tell myself I will brush my teeth vigorously and spray enough Coco to mask the smell. I sit on the bench of the boathouse and watch the river rush by. I know Virginia Woolf killed herself by walking into a river with stones in her pockets. I am not quite at the jumping-off place, but close. I’m now really worried that because I refused to go to Boston, Babs will bag the whole event and fly back to Chicago.
I put my first cigarette out and catch sight of my ankles, a burn on each one. They no longer make me feel powerful; they make me feel damaged. How did I manage to fuck things up so badly? I am tempted to go for the whole I-have-major-problems package and put a cigarette out on each of my wrists, but I know such a thing can’t be undone. And maybe, someday, when Babs dies, I will have a shot at a normal life.
Today, Cape and I aren’t required to go to classes. The school expects that we’ll spend the early part of the day with our parents. They’re allowed to visit our rooms before we go up for action. I know that Mags will probably be in Wentington after breakfast, but as for Babs, who knows what her plans are.
I return to my bed and sleep for a while, since my previous night’s sleep was so broken. When I wake up, I go to the grill and order a vanilla frappe. It’s all that I feel like eating; screw the calories. I go back to my room and try to read Anna Karenina, but I am too distracted to make any progress. I keep thinking about Babs. I decide to call her at the Ritz, though I don’t know what my reception will be.
I go downstairs and pick up the rotary phone. It’s too complicated to use my calling card, so I call collect. The operator at the Ritz miraculously accepts the charges and puts me through. The phone rings and rings until Babs finally picks up.
“Hello?” she says in a groggy voice. For most people, being groggy makes them more vulnerable, but for my mother, it is just Babs on low.
“Babs, it’s Bettina.”
“I figured as much.”
“I was just calling to see what time you are coming to Cardiss. The first meeting is at four.”
“Hmm. Let me get this straight. You flatly refuse to come to Boston yesterday after I had gone to all the trouble to plan girlie time, and now you expect me lug myself up to Cardiss. Tell me why the fuck I should do this.”
“Well, Babs,” I begin tentatively, knowing whatever I say will decide whether she shows up or not, “parents usually come.”
It’s unbearable to think of going through this alone.
“Since when have I been lumped into the category of parents? What, I want to know, is in it for me?”
I pause. Don’t really have a good answer to this. If I have to work to get her here, chances are she has already made up her mind about coming. Maybe her attachment to my being at Cardiss will convince her. Or maybe watching me get kicked out will be fun.
“Students who have their parents there usually have a better chance of not getting kicked out.”
“And why would I give a shit about that?”
Now I am barely above begging. I opt for a new strategy.
“You could see Cape. He looks a lot like Mack.”
“Ah, yes. I was looking forward to that.”
“I already told him about the whole thing so you don’t have to.”
“Good for you, my girl! Points on the fearless score.”
I try one more time. “Please come, Babs. I need you.”
I know Babs detests neediness in all forms, but I can’t think of anything else.
“I’ll see how I feel after some coffee and a few ciggies. Ciao, babe.”
She hangs up, her visit still up in the air. I go back to my room, no real progress made. It is ten thirty, and I have the whole day to kill. I make my bed, straighten up my desk, and organize my clothes in different drawers. Cape’s pennies sit on top of my dresser. I decide I’ll take them to the trial.
31. That Day, Continued
October 1983
THREE O’CLOCK. Time to get dressed. I put on the granny-tea dress and black flats. I decide not to wear any makeup. Just opt for a good scrubbing of my face with Noxzema and cold water. I don’t put on lipstick, just a swipe of lip balm. I look in the full-length mirror and almost don’t recognize myself. I look innocent in a way I didn’t even look when I was ten, when Babs picked out all my clothes.
I sit on my bed and smoke. Don’t want to go to the boathouse and chance running into Jake. Cigarettes are a great way to kill time without actually doing anything. Am ashing into an empty Diet Coke can when there is a knock at the door.
Will Deeds ever get tired of catching me at things I shouldn’t be doing?
I tentatively open the door. It isn’t Deeds but Babs.
32. Maternal Instincts
October 1983
BABS WALKS INTO my room without so much as a hello. She’s wearing a maroon suit with gray fur around the collar and cuffs. Cardiss colors. I’m almost surprised she knows what they are, but then again, she is always attentive to a theme. Has on a ruby necklace, a ruby bracelet studded with diamonds, and a ruby cocktail ring. She sits down on the bed, then says:
“What a dump! This place looks more like a prison than a dorm room. What the fuck is this?” She points to the rug with the B on it.
“Holly’s mom gave it to me on my first day here.”
“Ah, the joys of kitsch. And your sheets—standard-issue Cardiss. I would’ve thought with all the money I gave you, you would buy some new ones. And what the hell are you wearing? You look Amish.”
“I thought it would make me look contrite for the trial.”
“You don’t look contrite, you look like someone who has zip taste in clothes.”
“I’m not going to change, Babs. I don’t have any other dresses.”
She goes to my closet and takes inventory.
“What about the one I sent you? Or this black one? It’s almost chic.”
“I thought it was too risqué. I was wearing it when I got caught.”
“Well, have some balls. You are from Chicago, not Kansas.”
I back down. I will do anything to placate Babs. I am that grateful she showed up. I pull on the dress. Still wear my new black flats.
“Bag the flats,” she says. “You are too short to swing them. Go with the heels.”
“I’m not sure, Babs.”
“And put some makeup on. This crunchy shit is not going to fly. I don’t want you to embarrass me.”
The spiral staircase all over again. I pu
t on a minimal coat of makeup, and it’s time to go.
33. Trial
October 1983
THE ENTIRE PROCESS takes place on the top floor of the Madson library. There’s a special room the school uses for big-deal occasions. Trustee meetings, search committees for new department heads, discussions about changing the curriculum. Babs wants to drive to the building in the limo, but since the library is a two-minute walk from Bright House, I persuade her not to.
“Have it your way, babe,” she says.
We set out across the lawn, me struggling with my pumps in the grass. Babs lights up a cigarette.
“Um, Babs, there’s no smoking on campus.”
“Maybe for you, Bettina, but I don’t go here so I don’t give a fuck.”
I pray she puts it out before we reach the library. Thank God, she does. We arrive early. Look like we take the whole thing seriously. We take the elevator to the seventh floor. Down the hall is a wooden door that is cracked open.
Babs strides confidently toward it. As if this is something she does every day. That’s the thing about Babs. The chocolate money makes her feel at ease anywhere.
I follow behind. I have never been in this room, and I am surprised to see that, despite all its mystery, it looks like any other classroom at Cardiss. A big oval table with wooden chairs around it. There are six folding chairs on the side where we are to sit. Implies Cape and I each have two parents to get us through this mess. Which of course we don’t.
Cape and Mags are already there. Cape wears a blue blazer, khakis, and a Cardiss tie; Mags wears a Liberty print shirt, blue poplin skirt with pantyhose. Grass Woods all the way. I still can’t believe that clothes don’t matter in this process. If I still had my pink-and-white-checked sundress, I probably would have tried to wear it.
They hold hands. If Mags is troubled by Babs’s arrival, she doesn’t show it. Just pulls a mint from her purse and offers it to Cape.
I take in the twelve students who compose Stud Jud. They wear blue blazers, each with the Cardiss insignia on the right lapel. Meredith sits on the far end of the table, her blond hair up in a bun, as if she were a teacher. I wonder where all the blazers are kept. I have never seen one in Meredith’s closet. It’s not the kind of thing you wear around campus.
Even though none of them are smiling, I can feel the palpable excitement in the air. There is a copy of the C-book in the middle of the table, should any of the students need to refer to it. The only other person I recognize is Jade from my bio class. We dissected a pig together. My incisions were jagged and cost us an A. She never spoke to me again, and I know she’s probably not sympathetic to my case.
The only adult in the room besides Mags and Babs is Mr. Carlson, Cape’s dorm head, the one who busted us. I suppose he’s going to present the official charges against us.
He knocks the table with a gavel and asks all of us to stand.
“Repeat after me,” he says.
I start to follow along before I realize he’s addressing only the students at the table. I feel like an idiot.
“We, members of the student judiciary, swear to consider each of the students before us without personal prejudice and only in light of the infractions committed.”
They all repeat this and retake their seats.
I look at Meredith and discern no smugness in her bearing but rather a somber attitude I’ve never seen her sport in real life.
The next order of business is for Mr. Carlson to present our crimes. He remains standing. I feel Babs twitch beside me and know she’s craving a smoke. I wonder if she’ll light up right there or excuse herself.
“First,” Mr. Carlson says, “I want to remind you that each of these students, Bettina Ballentyne and McCormack Hailer Morse, should be considered as separate cases, even though they were caught together.”
He continues.
“On the night of October twenty-third, I entered Cape’s room and discovered Cape and Bettina in Cape’s bed, engaged in sexual activity. Both parties were naked, and it was past midnight. Both are charged with illegal visitation and sexual congress. Bettina is also charged with leaving Bright House after hours, a dangerous activity in and of itself, as it undermines campus security.”
It’s not lost on me that my leaving my dorm is the only infraction that gets a qualifier.
Having finished recounting the crime, Mr. Carlson sits down.
We’re not to have our say in front of Stud Jud. They’re judging us solely on our infractions, not factoring in our achievements at Cardiss. We’re dismissed to the hallway while Stud Jud votes on our fate.
The bench we’re to sit on is fairly small. Awkward. Babs sits next to Cape and I’m next to her. Mags is on the other side of Cape. Cape seems to want to protect Mags from any contact with either Babs or me.
Babs strikes up a conversation with him. I pray for a benign Hello, but of course this isn’t Babs’s style.
“Too bad your father isn’t here to see this. The whole thing presents a nice symmetry, don’t you think?”
Cape just sits there rigidly. Chooses to ignore Babs. I feel like grinding the heel of one of my pumps into her toes. Why, I ask myself, did I want her to come? As usual, she is making things worse. But there’s nothing I can do to stop her. To make her be anything but herself.
Ten minutes pass. The door opens and Mr. Carlson reports the vote. The Stud Jud has voted for both of us to be allowed to stay at Cardiss. I’m stunned. Maybe Meredith has less influence than I feared.
They all file out, no longer wearing the blue jackets. They are now just students like us. No one says anything except Meredith, who is eighth to walk out. She bends down and whispers to me: “I voted for you to stay. Leaving Cardiss would allow you to escape all of the fun we have in store for you.”
Then Meredith walks over to Cape. He stands to greet her.
“I voted for you Cape,” Meredith says. “I know Bettina, and I know it was not your fault.”
He doesn’t deny this, just says, “Thank you, Mere.” Kisses her just where her hairline meets her forehead.
Mags stands up and gives her a hug. “Thank you, dear Meredith.”
“Of course,” Meredith replies, then walks down the hall to the elevator. I can’t help but wonder: Is this some kind of fucking cocktail party?
Now all we have to do is wait for the faculty. We sit in silence as they trickle in. They are not wearing special jackets like Stud Jud, just their regular blazers and ties. I suppose their being on this committee at Cardiss cloaks them in enough authority that they don’t need a special uniform. The identity of the faculty members on the committee has always been shrouded in mystery. Unless you go up for action, you will never know which teachers preside over Cardiss students’ fates.
I look around to see who is there.
The dean of students, Mr. Watson, sits next to Donaldson. I hope he’s read enough of my Babs stories to feel sorry for me. Deeds is there, which is worrisome, since she caught me smoking and Babs tried to bully her. She’s the only woman. The rest are male teachers I have seen walking on the paths but don’t know personally.
Watson, as dean, is in charge of the whole procedure. I note that he has two folders in front of him on the table. A thick one that reads MORSE on the side tab, and a slimmer one next to it with a tab that reads BALLENTYNE. I could worry about this, but I don’t.
Carlson stands up and describes our crimes. The report is almost verbatim what he said to Stud Jud, except he doesn’t need to remind the faculty that our cases are to be decided separately, and that they are not to let any personal interactions they might have had with us affect their judgment. Mr. Watson then reaches for the folders. He picks up Cape’s.
“These are in no way expected to excuse the crimes but are meant to provide insight into what each candidate has contributed to our school.”
I want to raise my arm and call foul since this last sentence seems to negate the impartial decision that they promised just minutes earlier.
He opens Cape’s file.
“Mr. Morse is a legacy; his father attended Cardiss. His mother endowed all the gardens at the entrance to the library. Mr. Morse maintains a three-point-seven GPA and belongs to the Young Republicans’ club, Students Against Hunger, and the debating society. He is a superlative lacrosse player and is known for not only his athletic skills but also his sportsmanship. He is expected to make captain this spring, the first Lower to do so in twenty years.” Watson closes Cape’s file and opens mine.
“Miss Ballentyne is a legacy of sorts: her grandfather attended Cardiss. He gave generously to the school while alive and included Cardiss in his will. Miss Ballentyne matriculated at Cardiss as a Lower, so she has no grades reported yet. She is on no sports teams and has joined no clubs.”
My record, as he presents it, seems to suggest that in the two months I have been at Cardiss, I have left my room only once, and that was to sleep with Cape.
“Now we have the chance to hear from the students,” he continues. I was unaware that we were expected to make a speech or a plea. I’m not good at public speaking. Cape goes first and I am grateful.
“I know the severity of my crimes, and I am deeply ashamed of the dishonor I have brought upon the school and my family. It’s my hope that the committee will see how dedicated I am to the school and give me a chance to continue my activities, and perhaps even take up some new ones. I promise also to serve as a role model, tutoring other students and telling them how important it is that they follow Cardiss rules. Thank you for your consideration.” He finishes and takes his seat next to Mags.
I stand, even though I really can’t think of anything good to say.
Babs looks intrigued, curious to know what I will come up with.
“Um, I too realize what a grave crime we’ve committed and know no amount of apologies can make up for what we have done. I also know that I haven’t had as accomplished a career as Cape has, but it has taken me a while to acclimate myself to boarding school. I’ve applied myself to my studies and hope for three-point-eight this term. In the spring, I plan on joining some clubs and maybe a sports team.”
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