Hannah (3 page)

Miss Robbin and Verna ran to help me up. “Carl Kleino,” Miss Robbin said. Her voice was sharp and cold like icicles. “I saw you trip Hannah. Go up in front of the room and stand by my desk. Your parents are going to hear about this. Hannah, are you hurt?” I shook my head. “You go out with the other children, and I’ll come out in a minute. I want a word with Carl.”

Verna led me outside. She tried to comfort me by telling me how Carl was always getting into trouble. “I don’t think he likes being the oldest one in school,” she said.

After a while one of Verna’s girlfriends called to her to come and jump rope. “I’ll just take one turn,” Verna said, and ran off. I was just standing there by myself. I thought about how I hadn’t been able to do any lessons and how no one talked to me. I wished I were with Mama. Suddenly, the only thing that seemed important was to get back home.

By going from tree to tree I felt my way down the path that led from the schoolyard to the road. Because I was moving through the trees, no one noticed me. When I reached the road, I was unsure about which way I should turn. I decided any way was better than staying at school. I had been there all morning and hadn’t learned anything. Miss Robbin had hardly spoken to me.

Under my feet I felt the sandy road with its wagon ruts. At first I began to run along the road. Then I thought someone might see me, so I turned into the woods. There was no sun in the woods, and I hadn’t taken my sweater. I began to shiver. Everything felt strange and unfriendly. Blackberry briars scratched my arms and snagged my hair. Branches slapped at me and tore my skirt. Every direction I turned seemed to lead me into more trouble. The ground gave way and slipped out from under me. I gave up, sinking down to my knees. At first I was too stubborn to call for help. Then, knowing I
was lost, I cried out. There was no answer. I was sorry I had ever left my house, where my mother watched over me.

Once, Johnny had caught a field mouse and put it into a little box to keep it safe from owls and foxes. I thought at the time, even with the danger of owls and foxes, I would rather be free than live shut up in a box. Now I wanted to be shut up in the safe box of my house.

I sat there on the ground, hugging myself to keep warm. I could smell the pine trees and hear the scuffle and scratch of squirrels running along the ground. I thought of getting up and trying to find my way, but I was afraid I would lose myself deeper in the woods and no one would ever find me. It seemed like I had been sitting there shivering for hours when I heard Papa calling to me. I called back. At first he didn’t hear me. “Papa,” I called. “Here I am. Take me home. I want to go home.”

Papa scooped me up and carried me to the wagon. “No need to cry, Hannah,” he said. “You’re all right now. We’ll have you home in no time.”

Mama was at the door to meet us. “She might have fallen into the lake,” Mama said. “That’s what comes of letting her do a foolish thing like going to school. Her place is right here with me.”

Mama made me hot chocolate to drink and took me upstairs to my bed. I guess I fell asleep, because when I awoke I heard Miss Robbin’s voice. “Hannah, I’m so sorry for what happened,” she said. “I blame myself. I should have kept an eye on you, but I wanted you to be independent. I didn’t want the children to think of you as the teacher’s pet, but as a student just like themselves. I promise you, if you come back I’ll see that you are never teased again.”

“But you made me sit with the little children.”

“That was just so I could be right there to help you when the time came for you to do your lessons. I had planned a special lesson for you after recess.”

“Carl said mean things about the way I look.”

“I’ll help you change the way you look. I’ve got three yards of the prettiest muslin you can imagine in my trunk. It has little yellow daisies all over it. I’ll cut out a dress for you and sew it this weekend. As for Carl, I don’t think he means the things he says. He’s unhappy because he wants to be outdoors working on his dad’s farm instead of in school. He knows he isn’t very good at schoolwork. I made a bargain with him. I told him that if he behaved and settled down to studying, I’d give him a whole week off during the potato harvest.”

I didn’t want to go back to school, but I had never had a dress all my own, just hand-me-downs from Verna. For a new dress, I thought I might go back to school. Just for a day.

Mama was against it. At supper that night when I said Miss Robbin would make me a new dress for school, Mama said, “Hannah, you’ve had all you are going to have of school.”

Papa said, “Don’t be hasty, Martha. What happened today set me to thinking. We can’t let Hannah stay helpless. She has to learn to take care of herself. You and I aren’t going to be around forever. The time will come when she’s going to be on her own. She can’t go getting lost every time she puts her foot out the door.”

Nothing more was said, but when Saturday came, Miss Robbin began to make my new dress. Mama couldn’t help herself exclaiming
on how pretty the material was. “I don’t see why you want to waste it on a little girl’s dress,” she said to Miss Robbin. “You’ve got more than enough there for a dress yourself.”

“I’d rather see Hannah in the dress,” Miss Robbin said. “Besides, it was my fault that Hannah tore her dress. I should have done a better job of watching over her.”

I could tell from Mama’s “humph” that she was getting a little more soft-hearted toward Miss Robbin.

“I’m putting a ruffle around the bottom of your skirt,” Miss Robbin said to me. “Here, Hannah, you can feel it.”

The material was soft when I touched it. It had a sharp new smell. Even the collar had a little ruffle around it.

Saturday evening, when we got the bathtub out and put it in the kitchen, Mama said, “Hannah, I believe I’ll cut your hair before I wash it. It’s looking kind of stringy.” I guess she didn’t want Miss Robbin to be the only one to fuss over me. I could feel the weight of my hair grow lighter, and little pieces of it fell down my dress. “There now,” Mama said when she had finished, “your hair crimps up into real pretty curls. It’ll be easier for you to comb, too.” And then, like she was choking down some bitter medicine, Mama added, “… when you have to get dressed for school.”

I could hardly believe my ears. Mama was actually going to let me go back to school. I reached out and hugged her. “Heavens,” Mama said, “there’s no need for that.” She began to pour the hot water from the stove into the tub. “All right, Johnny, you’re first.” Johnny and I and Verna all took turns. Later on in the evening Mama would pour clean water into the tub. Then she and Papa would retire to their bedroom so Miss Robbin could take her bath.

After we were sent upstairs to bed, I could hear Miss Robbin working at Mama’s sewing machine, making my dress. Mama had the paddle of the butter churn going. She was keeping Miss Robbin company in the kitchen. If Miss Robbin and Mama got to be friends, I thought, maybe Mama wouldn’t need me so much.

When Monday morning came, I had second thoughts about school. I nearly hid from Verna when it was time to go, but the crisp feel of my new dress and the ruffle around the skirt gave me courage. Mama had even found a yellow ribbon to make into a bow for my hair.

When we got near the schoolhouse, I started to get scared again, and Verna had to drag me along. A girl whose voice I didn’t recognize came up to us. “Your sister’s got
a pretty dress, Verna,” she said. Another girl named Effie said, “What did your sister do to her hair?” Just because I can’t see, strangers think I can’t hear either. Or they believe I am stupid. I was pleased, though, to hear the girls say I looked nice even if they didn’t say it to me.

This time Miss Robbin let me sit with Verna instead of making me come up to the front of the classroom. And Carl kept quiet.

Miss Robbin said for our history lesson she was going to tell the class a story about the first president of the United States, George Washington. She wanted us all to listen carefully, and then she would ask us questions. If we knew the answers, we must raise our hands.

She told us lots of things. George Washington was born in 1732. He grew up in a four-room farmhouse on a river with a pretty name—the Rappahannock. He couldn’t spell very well. He liked to wrestle and dance and act in plays. In the French and Indian War he had two horses shot from under him. Then she told us all about the Revolutionary War and how Washington didn’t want to be president. When she finished, Miss Robbin started to ask us questions. I kept putting my hand up. I was used to listening hard and memorizing what I heard so I wouldn’t lose it. Sometimes I was the only one who had the answer.

At recess Effie asked, “How did you know all those things?” Some girls took my hand and asked me to walk around the schoolyard with them. They said I had pretty hair and wanted to know if I minded not being able to see, and I told them, “Sure I do.” Then they wanted to know if I just saw darkness, and I told them I didn’t see anything. Pretty soon they stopped asking all those questions and started to talk about which boys they liked best. Effie said she had a new baby sister that cried all night. Another girl said she wished she lived in a big city, and someone else said they hated to gather eggs because the hens had fleas.