Cutler 1 - Dawn (5 page)

"The Longchamp girl is here," Mrs. Turnbell's secretary announced as I entered the reception room. I heard Mrs. Turnbell say, "Send her in." The secretary stepped back and I entered.

Mrs. Turnbell's gaze was icy as she asked me to explain what had happened.

With my stomach jumping up and down and my voice shaking, I told her how I had come out of the shower and found my clothing in the toilet.

"Why would anyone do that to a new girl?" she asked. I didn't respond. I didn't want to get into any more trouble with the other girls, and I knew that was exactly what would happen if I mentioned the smoke.

But she knew already!

"You don't have to explain. Mrs. Allen told me how you turned in Clara Sue Cutler for smoking."

"I didn't turn her in. I saw smoke coming from this locker and—"

"Now, listen to me," Mrs. Turnbell ordered, leaning over her desk, her pale face going first pink, then red. "The other students at this school have been brought up in fine homes and have a head start on how to get along with other people. But that doesn’t mean I will allow you and your brother to come in here and disrupt everything. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said hoarsely, tears choking me. Coldly Mrs. Turnbell eyed me and shook her head.

"Going around to class in a gym uniform," she muttered. "You march right out of here and go directly to the laundry and wait for your clothing to be washed and dried."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Go on. Get dressed and back to your classes as soon as possible," she commanded with a wave of her hand.

I hurried out, wiping the tears away as I ran through the hallway and down to the laundry. When I put on my dress again, it was so wrinkled it looked like I had been sitting on it. But there was nothing I could do.

I hurried up to make my English class. When I got there several students looked disappointed to see me in regular clothing again. Only Louise looked relieved. When our gazes met, she smiled and then looked away quickly. At least for now, my ordeal had ended.

After English class, Louise caught up with me at the doorway.

"I'm sorry they did that to you!" she cried. "I just want you to know I wasn't part of it."

"Thank you."

"I should have warned you right away about Clara Sue. For some reason most of the girls do what she tells them to."

"If she did this, it was a very mean thing to do. I told her I was sorry."

"Clara Sue always gets her way," Louise said. "Maybe she won't bother you anymore. Come on, I'll go with you to lunch."

"Thank you," I said. A few other students said hello to me and smiled, but for the most part Louise was the only raft for me to cling to in unfamiliar waters.

The cafeteria was fancier than any I'd ever seen. Here the seats and tables looked plush and comfortable. The walls were painted light blue, and the tiled floor was an off-white. The students picked up their trays and silverware at an area just before the serving counter and proceeded to the awaiting cashier.

I saw Clara Sue Cutler sitting with some of the other girls from our gym class. They all laughed when they set eyes on me.

"Let's sit over there," Louise said, indicating an empty table away from them.

"Just a minute," I said and marched up to Clara Sue's table. The girls all turned in surprise.

"Hi, Dawn," Clara Sue said, with a cat-who-has-eaten-the-canary look on her spiteful face. "Shouldn't you have ironed that?"

Everyone laughed.

"I don't know why you did this to me," I fired back in a hard voice as I eyed them all coldly. "But it was a terrible thing to do to someone, especially someone who has just entered your school."

"Who told you I did?" she demanded.

"No one told me. I know."

The girls stared. Clara Sue's big blue eyes narrowed to slits and then widened with an apparent softness. "All right, Dawn," she said in a voice of amnesty. "I guess we broke you into Emerson Peabody. You're forgiven," she said with a queenly gesture. "In fact, you may sit here, if you like. You, too, Louise," she added.

"Thank you," I said. I was determined to mend fences and not disrupt Mrs. Turnbell's precious little school. Louise and I took the two empty seats.

"This is Linda Ann Brandise," Clara Sue said, indicating the taller girl with soft, dark brown hair and beautiful almond-shaped eyes. "And this is Margaret Ann Stanton, Diane Elaine Wilson, and Melissa Lee Norton."

I nodded at all of them and wondered if I was the only girl in the school without a formal middle name.

"Did you just move here?" Clara Sue asked. "You're not a sleep-over, I know."

"Sleep-over?"

"Students who stay in the dorms," Louise explained.

"Oh. No, I live in Richmond. Do you sleep over, Louise?"

"No, but Linda and Clara Sue do. I'm going to get my lunch," Louise declared and then pulled herself up. "Coming, Dawn?"

"I just need to get a container of milk," I said, putting my lunch bag on the table.

"What's that?" Louise asked.

"My lunch. I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich." I opened my purse and found my milk money.

"You made your own lunch?" Clara Sue asked. "Why would you do that?"

"It saves money."

Louise stared at me, her watery, pale blue eyes blinking as she struggled to understand.

"Saves money? Why do you want to save money? Did your parents cut off your allowance?" Linda inquired.

"I don't have an allowance. Momma gives me money for milk, but other than that . . ."

"Money for milk?" Linda laughed and looked at

Clara Sue. "What does your father do, anyway?"

"He works here. He's a maintenance supervisor."

"Maintenance?" Linda gasped. "You mean . . . he's a janitor?" Her eyes widened when I nodded. "Uh-huh. Because he works here, my brother, Jimmy, and I get to go to Emerson Peabody."

The girls turned to each other and suddenly laughed.

"A janitor," Clara Sue said, as though she couldn't believe it. They laughed again. "I think we'll let Louise and Dawn have this table," she purred. Clara Sue lifted her tray and stood up. Linda and the others followed suit and started away.

"I didn't know your father was a janitor here," Louise said.

"You never gave me a chance to tell you. He's a supervisor because he's very good at fixing and maintaining all sorts of engines and motors," I said proudly.

"How nice." She looked around and then slipped her hands around her books and lifted them off the table. "Oh! I just remembered. I have to talk to Mary Jo Alcott. We have a science project to do together. I'll see you later," she said quickly and walked across the cafeteria to another table. The girls there didn't seem so happy to greet her, but she sat down anyway. She pointed at me and they all laughed.

They were snubbing me because they thought I was beneath them just because Daddy was the janitor.

Jimmy was right, I thought. Rich kids were spoiled and horrible. I glared back at them defiantly, even though tears burned like fire under my eyelids. I rose and walked proudly to the lunch line to get some milk.

I looked around for Jimmy, hoping that he had been luckier than me and had made at least one friend by now, but I didn't see him anywhere. I returned to my table and began to unfold my bag when I heard someone say, "There any free seats here?"

I looked up at one of the handsomest boys I had ever seen. His hair was thick and flaxen blond like mine. It waved just enough to be perfect. His eyes were cerulean blue and they sparkled with laughter. His nose was straight and neither too long nor too narrow, nor too thick. He was just a little taller than Jimmy, but he had wider shoulders and stood straight and confidently. When I looked more closely at him, I saw that just like me, he had a tiny patch of freckles under each eye.

"They're all free," I said.

"Really? Can't imagine why," he said and sat down across from me. He extended his hand. "My name's Philip Cutler," he said.

"Cutler?" I pulled my hand back quickly.

"What's wrong?" His blue eyes sparkled wickedly. "Don't tell me some of those catty girls have warned you against me already?"

"No . . ." I turned and looked at the table of girls with Clara Sue at the center. They were all looking our way.

"I . . . your sister . . ."

"Oh, her. What'd she do?" His gaze darkened as he glanced back their way. I saw how it infuriated Clara Sue.

"She . . . blames me for getting her in trouble this morning in gym class. I . . . didn't you see me walking through the school in my gym uniform?"

"Oh, that was you? So you're the famous new girl—Dawn. I did hear about you, but I was so busy this morning, I didn't catch sight of you."

The way he smiled made me wonder if he was lying. Did Clara Sue put him up to this?

"You're probably the only one in the school who didn't," I said. "I was even called down to the principal's office and bawled out, even though it wasn't my fault."

"That doesn't surprise me. Mrs. Turnbell thinks she's a prison warden instead of a principal. That's why we call her Mrs. Turnkey."

"Turnkey?" I had to smile. It fit.

"And all this was my bratty sister's fault, huh?" He shook his head. "That figures, too."

"I've tried to make friends, apologize, but . . ." I glared at the girls. "They all turned on me when they found out what my father does."

"What's he do—rob banks?"

"He might as well for all they would care," I shot back. "Especially your sister."

"Forget her," Philip advised. "You can't let my sister get to you. She's a spoiled brat. She deserves whatever she gets. Where are you from?"

"Many places. Before Richmond, Granville, Virginia."

"Granville? I've never been there. Was it nice?"

"No," I said. He laughed, his teeth white and perfect. He looked at my bag and sandwich.

"A bag lunch?"

"Yes," I said, anticipating his ridicule, too. But he surprised me.

"What do you have?"

"Peanut butter and jelly."

"Looks a lot thicker than the peanut butter sandwiches they give you here. Maybe I’ll get you to bag me a lunch, too," he said. He looked serious about it for a moment, and then he laughed at my expression. "My sister is the biggest busybody here. She loves snooping in other people's business and then spreading rumors."

I studied him for a moment. Was he saying these things just to win my confidence or did he really mean it? I couldn't imagine Jimmy speaking so hatefully about me.

"What grade are you in?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Eleventh. I got my driver's license this year and my own car. How would you like to go for a ride with me after school?" he asked quickly.

"A ride?"

"Sure. I'll show you the sights," he added, winking.

"Thank you," I said. "But I can't."

"Why not? I'm a good driver," he pursued.

"I . . . have to meet my father after school."

"Well, maybe tomorrow, then. Hey," he said when I hesitated, searching for another excuse, "I'm perfectly harmless, no matter what you've heard."

"I haven't—" I broke off in confusion and felt my cheeks start to burn.

He laughed.

"You take everything so serious. Your parents gave you the right name. You're definitely as fresh as the birth of a new day," he said. I blushed even harder and looked down at my sandwich.

"So, do you stay in the dorms or live nearby?" he asked.

"I live on Ashland Street."

"Ashland? Don't know it. I'm not from Richmond, though. I'm from Virginia Beach."

"Oh, I've heard of it, but I've never been there. I heard it's very pretty there," I said and bit into my sandwich.

"It is. My family owns a hotel there: the Cutler's Cove Hotel, in Cutler's Cove, which is just a few miles south of Virginia Beach," he said sitting back proudly.

"You have a whole place named after your family?" I asked. No wonder Clara Sue was so swollen with her own importance, I thought.

"Yep. We've been there ever since the Indians gave it up. Or so my grandmother says."

"Your grandmother lives with you?" I asked enviously.

"She and my grandfather used to run the hotel. He died, but she still runs it with my parents. What does your father do, Dawn?"

"He works here," I said and thought, here I go again.

"Here? He's a teacher? And you let me say all those things about Mrs. Turnkey and”"

"No, no. He's a maintenance supervisor," I said quickly.

"Oh." Philip smiled and released a sigh of relief. "I'm glad of that," he said.

"You are?" I couldn't help sounding surprised.

"Yes. The two girls I know here whose fathers are teachers are the biggest snobs—Rebecca Clare Long-street and Stephanie Kay Sumpter. Ignore them at all costs," he advised.

Just then I saw Jimmy come in. He was walking all by himself. He stopped in the doorway and gazed around. When he saw me, he flashed a look of surprise at the sight of Philip as well. Then he headed quickly to my table. He slapped his bag on top and flopped into a seat.

"Hi," Philip said. "How's it going?"

"Stinks," Jimmy said. "Just got bawled out for putting my feet on the rung of the seat ahead of me. I thought she would keep me there right through lunch."

"Gotta watch that around here. If Mrs. Turnbell comes by and sees a student doing something like that, she bawls out the teacher first, and that makes the teacher get even madder," Philip explained.

"This is Philip Cutler," said Dawn. "Philip, my brother, Jimmy."

"Hi," Philip said, extending his hand. Jimmy looked at it suspiciously a moment and then shook quickly.

"What do they think this place is, gold?" Jimmy said, getting back to his problem.

"Did you make any friends yet, Jimmy?" I asked hopefully.

He shook his head.

"I gotta get my milk." He got up quickly and went to the lunch line. The boys in front of him looked nervous when he approached.

"Jimmy's not overjoyed about being here, I gather," Philip said, looking his way.

"No, he's not. Maybe he's right," I added. Philip smiled.

"You've got the clearest, prettiest eyes I've ever seen. The only one whose eyes come close is my mother."