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When a Daughter Became a Woman
Chapter 4: Family (Nathaniel Dixon's POV)
What was wrong with this girl? What have I done to offend her? First she yells at me, and then she slaps me. I do not know what I have done to offend her, but I will find out.
I stood up and walked down the hall to Ms. Hiller's room. I knocked on the door and waited. A few moments later the door opened. Ms. Hiller had a smile on her face as she opened the door; but when she looked up and saw me, she frowned. She glared at me with her blue eyes and I glared back. Her eyes were full of anger and hatred. Then quickly, her eyes softened, and she looked down the hall quickly. She stepped to the side and I walked into her room. She closed the door and leaned against it.
"What do you need, Mr. Dixon?" asked Ms. Hiller, bitterly.
"I need to know why you slapped me, Ms. Hiller," I replied calmly.
"I thought I had already explained that to you."
"No, you did not explain it to me…you yelled it at me."
"What are you looking for?"
"An answer would be nice."
"Well then, I did slap you; and I slapped you because, you read a letter that was addressed to me. Do you not know that it is rude, to read someone else's letters?"
"Yes, Ms. Hiller, I do know that it is rude."
Ms. Hiller stared at me, confused. Yes, I told the truth. Lying would not help anything. My father always told me that honesty was the way to solve disagreements. And I believed him; after all, my father could solve any disagreement.
"Ms. Hiller I apologize for reading your letter. It just looked interesting to read," I whispered.
Ms. Hiller looked up at me and smiled, "I accept your apology, Mr. Dixon. Just promise that it will not happen again."
"It will not."
"Then we need to get back to work," said Ms. Hiller, opening the door.
I followed her out, not knowing what would happen next.
By the time the sun went down, I was tired of correcting articles. Ms. Hiller on the other hand, was still as happy as she was when we started. I set down the piece of paper and stood up. I stretched my arms and legs. I walked over to the window, and looked out at the starry night sky. Since we had talked, Ms. Hiller and I had not said another word. At dinner, we did not talk to each other either. It was better than her yelling at me, but not by much.
I stared into the night sky. All of the stars in the sky seemed to get along, yet Ms. Hiller and I could not. What was I doing wrong? What was Ms. Hiller doing wrong? I knew that answer: not giving me a chance.
"Are you bored Mr. Dixon?" questioned Ms. Hiller.
I walked over to her desk and pulled up a chair. I sat down and watched her, as she continued to correct an article. She seemed to enjoy this.
"You could say that," I answered.
Ms. Hiller laughed and then smiled, "I am as well, but mother always taught my brother and I the importance of correcting articles."
"I do not mean to pry, but how old is your brother?"
"My brother is fifteen."
"He is fifteen, and your parents let him go to Europe by himself?"
"Yes they did. My parents were fifteen, when they would go around the country, and write about the war."
"You have a rather interesting family, Ms. Hiller."
"I know, but I love them anyway."
"What about me?"
"You are not family, but if you learn more about being a newspaper apprentice…you may be."