The Daring Game (16 page)

“Everyone's listening to you,” Helen muttered at last. Her mother glared at her, but the argument subsided. For the rest of the meal all the attention was focused on Tracy. Neither of her parents said anything to Helen, except to criticize her last report card. The only thing they said to Eliza was a question about where she came from.

Tracy and her father waited in the car while Helen's mother took them into the residence. She pecked her
daughter's cheek. “We'll see you at Easter, Helen. I hope you're behaving yourself.”

After she left, Eliza and Helen stood awkwardly in the hall. Eliza wanted desperately to say something sympathetic, but you couldn't criticize someone else's parents unless they did it first.

“Well,” said Helen, shrugging. “Now you know. I wasn't exaggerating, was I?”

Quickly, before she had time to feel self-conscious, Eliza squeezed Helen's hand. Then the two of them trudged up the stairs to bed.

14

A New Boarder

T
here were two events left in the second term: the School Play and the School Birthday. Helen was the only member of the Yellow Dorm in the play, and that was an accident. One evening on the veranda she'd been demonstrating to Eliza and Carrie how Fidget, who was plump, tried to pull up her girdle in class when she thought they weren't looking. Helen tugged and squirmed and panted, not noticing when the others suddenly quenched their laughter. Miss Tavistock had come up behind her and was watching her gyrations.

“That will do, Helen,” she said crisply after a few seconds. “Since you enjoy making a spectacle of yourself, perhaps you should try out for the play.”

“But I couldn't be in a play, Miss Tavistock!”

“Nevertheless, I expect to hear that you attended the auditions.”

Since this was clearly an order, Helen had no choice. And although she grumbled about it, she seemed pleased when she was chosen, especially since Pam, who had also auditioned, hadn't been.

The play was a musical—
Oliver!
Her dorm-mates had heard Helen rehearse the songs so often that they knew them all by heart. On opening night they sat with Eliza's aunt and uncle and Jean's parents, watching her proudly.

Helen was one of the street urchins. With torn knickers, bare feet, burnt cork smudged across her face and her hair sticking straight up with exertion, she looked just like a mischievous boy. She had no lines, but as she cavorted around the stage with the rest of Fagin's Gang, Eliza marvelled at her intense involvement. It wasn't like Helen to get caught up in school activities.

“Watch out for pickpockets, Scotty!” yelled Helen after the performance, leaping upon Jean from the bathroom doorway and tearing the other girl's dressing-gown pocket inside out. Eliza caught her eye and shook her head frantically. Someone might guess how suitable her role was if she kept this up.

Helen's high spirits infected the rest of them. They squashed together on the foot of her bed after Lights Out, recalling every detail of the play.

“You were
so
good, Helen,” said Carrie. “You really were.”

“Oh, it's just me natural self coming out. Did I look weird with my glasses on? I wouldn't have been able to see without them.”

Carrie assured her she didn't and Eliza listened to their friendly talk with relief. Now that Carrie was certain of spending Easter with Eliza, she seemed much more willing to accept Helen as part of their threesome.

Helen tried to chin herself on the railing at the end of Eliza's bed. “It would be great to live on the streets like that, doing what you wanted. Which reminds me—we haven't had a dare for ages, not since Eliza's.”

“I didn't think we were playing that anymore,” said Carrie. They had all forgotten about the Daring Game. Eliza was surprised to discover she felt too old for it.

Helen rooted around in her blazer pockets for some paper. “This will be the last one, just to end the term. I haven't done one yet—neither has Scotty or P.J.”

“You know I won't,” yawned Pam, getting into bed. But even she was being more tolerant of Helen than usual. It was Helen's night.

Helen shook the hat and drew out a name. “It's Scotty! I was hoping it would be—I have a perfect dare for you.”

“I don't think I want to play,” Jean's voice wavered.

“You don't have to,” said Pam. “Don't worry, Jean, they can't make you.”

“But we'll all help you with it,” entreated Helen. “Come on, Scotty, be a good sport. I heard something yesterday that gave me a great idea. You'll love it—you all will.”

O
N THE MORNING
of the School Birthday the sun illuminated the whiteness of the freshly painted veranda railing. Beside it an early cherry tree had unfurled its delicate pink blossoms. Eliza noticed it on her way into prayers. This leisurely Vancouver spring was continually presenting her with new surprises. It was so different from the prairies,
where it was snow one day, and mud and green leaves the next.

“Like the straightness of the pine trees / Le-et me-e upri-ight be.” She sang the words of the school hymn with gusto, watching the very upright figure of Miss Peck sitting in a wheelchair on the stage beside Miss Tavistock and the visiting Canon Finch. The old woman sang resolutely, without a hymn book. Then Miss Tavistock wheeled her aunt to the front of the stage.

“My dear girls—I'm getting much too old for long speeches, and I won't bore you with one this year. But let me just congratulate you all on our school's fifty-fifth birthday, and hope that we will continue for fifty-five more years to uphold the wise old traditions that have made Ashdown what it is.” They had to strain to hear her reedy voice. She looked so slight in the wide, cushioned chair, as if she had shrunk since Eliza had last seen her.

The Junior School presented homemade birthday cards to Miss Peck and Miss Tavistock, and baskets were passed for donations to the scholarship fund.

Then the prefects displayed their present to the school—the new Canadian flag. Eliza admired it as two of them held it up and everyone applauded. Its crisp maple leaf flanked by bright red borders looked so refreshing compared to the dingy Red Ensign drooping beside the stage. Eliza was proud that Canada now had its own flag. She remembered the impassioned school debate about it a few months ago, and a dinner-time conversation when she'd been at Miss Tavistock's table. “I do think it's a
shame to do away with the symbol of the old country,” the headmistress had begun. When the whole table drowned her out with violent disagreement, she laughed and said she supposed she'd better keep up with the times.

Now Canon Finch was speaking in his dry English voice. Eliza stopped listening and began to feel apprehensive about what was going to happen during lunch. It really was the best idea Helen had ever had; and even if it didn't work, none of them could get into trouble. But she wondered if Jean would go through with it.

Eliza liked Jean and shared with her an addiction to reading. Although Jean read nothing but animal stories, she must have gone through every one that had ever been written, and she had introduced Eliza to a lot of new titles. Eliza sometimes recommended books about other subjects, but Jean wouldn't touch anything unless it had a dog or cat or horse in it.

Carrie only liked Nancy Drew mysteries, and Pam and Helen never read outside school. Pam did her required reading diligently and wrote neat book reports that always got an A, but she often told Eliza she should be out playing games instead of curled up with a book. Helen couldn't understand why Eliza and Jean would want to do anything that resembled school work for pleasure.

Jean was awfully quiet, however; she didn't let any of them get to know her very well. They all protected her, although Pam's protection was more like smothering. Certainly Jean had never before done anything as nervy as this dare.

The assembly sang the school song, then “Happy Birthday, dear Ashdown.” Eliza thought this was silly, but everyone was getting giddy anyhow, especially when the house captains burst through the door with an enormous cake, blazing with candles. There were a few informal classes before the day ended in a half-holiday. Eliza had hoped to say hello to Miss Peck, but she saw the white-haired figure leave in a taxi.

At lunch Eliza watched Jean speak to the prefect at the head of her table and slip out of the dining room. A few minutes later Helen left her chair, approached Ann, the head boarder, and whispered to her urgently. The older girl shook her head emphatically several times. Finally, however, Ann sighed, got up and said something to Miss Tavistock. The headmistress looked surprised. She glanced over at Helen, who was bent intently over her macaroni, and tapped the bell she always kept beside her at the table. “Your attention, please, girls. Helen Beauchamp has an announcement to make.”

Helen skipped over to the dining room door and stood in front of its glass windows. “We have something to show you,” she said simply, and opened the door.

Jean walked in with her arms full of a wriggling grey bundle. Behind her, her face flushing with embarrassment, was Jackie Chung, a day-girl from 7B.

“It's a dog! Oh, it's so cute! What's it doing
here
?” Pandemonium broke out, until it was quelled by the sharp
ting
of the bell.

“Girls, girls! Now, Jean, what is all this about?”

Jean looked caught between laughing and crying. The small dog had crooked its front legs over her shoulders, as if it were hanging on. It trembled violently. “Th-the Yellow Dorm would like to present this dog to the boarders as a birthday present,” Jean squeaked, then put the dog on the floor and picked up the leash that trailed from its collar.

A universal “Ahhh …” filled the room, and chairs were scraped back as some people stood up to get a closer look.

Miss Tavistock stood up too, and banged the bell. Eliza watched her face; it looked stern, but she couldn't tell whether this was because of the noise or the dog.

“Sit down, everyone, and be quiet! You're frightening the poor animal. Now look, here is a surprise for your dessert.” A tray of ice cream bars appeared from the kitchen, distracting some of the boarders' attention. “Everyone take one and go quickly outside—everyone except the Yellow Dorm. And Jacqueline, what are
you
doing here?”

Holly paused to stroke the dog on her way out. “Oh please, Miss Tavistock, can't we keep him?”

“We'll see, Holly, but I doubt it very much. Now hurry along outside. The rest of you sit down.”

They sat in a row at one of the tables, and Eliza thought of the Yellow Dorm's feast, which seemed so long ago now. Jackie was at the end, the dog huddled on her lap.

Miss Tavistock half-smiled at them, but she looked bewildered. “Now, it is very nice of you to give the school
a birthday present, but where did this dog come from? Is it yours, Jacqueline?”

Jackie nodded unhappily, but didn't seem to be able to speak. She buried her face in the wavy grey fur of the dog's neck.

“Pamela, you're the dorm head—suppose you explain.”

“Oh, but Miss Tavistock, it wasn't
my
idea!”

Coward, thought Eliza. Pam had been just as excited about it as the rest of them.

Finally Helen explained, with help from Jackie, how the day-girl's family was looking for a new home for the dog “because we think my little brother's allergic to him.”

“We thought he could live at the school. Then Jackie could still see him a lot, because she lives across the street.
Please,
Miss Tavistock,” begged Jean, unusually bold.

“Who would take care of him?” The headmistress frowned, but patted the dog as he got down and sniffed her feet.

“
We
would,” they chorused.

“What about the holidays? You can't expect the kitchen staff or the matrons to take on that responsibility, and I am certainly not going to. I really think, Jacqueline,” she continued gently, “that you'll have to find another home for him.”

“I would take care of him in the holidays,” said a gruff voice from the back. It was Mrs. Renfrew, lurking at the other end of the dining room.

The Pouncer! Who would have thought
she
would help them out! The matron came over and picked up the
dog. He stopped shivering and rested his head on her shoulder.

“The poor, wee thing,” she murmured, in a purring voice none of them had ever heard before. “He is just like a dog I had as a child.”

Miss Tavistock looked completely taken aback. “But Mrs. Renfrew—surely you don't want the added work of an animal to look after!”

“I would like it very much. And Jean can help me,” she added. Jean was the only boarder the Pouncer seemed to like, presumably because she had a Scottish background.

“Will you come into my study and discuss it? The rest of you wait out here and eat your ice cream. Jacqueline, you may have some too.”

They gave the dog a whole bar to himself, broken up in a dish. He lapped it up daintily and Jean wiped the white drops off his whiskers.

“His name's Bill,” said Jackie. “Oh, I hope it's all right. I could see him every day.”

After a while Miss Tavistock came to the door and called in Jackie, saying she must phone her mother—that sounded hopeful. And ten minutes later it was decided: Bill would live at Ashdown, basing himself in Mrs. Renfrew's room in the New Residence.

As the Pouncer and Jean led the dog away, and Jackie left reluctantly, Eliza wondered privately if the rest of them would ever be allowed near him. But just to have a dog in the school—even though he was such a small,
timid dog and she preferred large ones—made it seem more like home.

“T
HAT
WAS
a wonderful dare,” she told Helen, as the two of them and Carrie spent their half-holiday looking for lost tennis balls in the trees behind the courts.