He was behind her. She could hear the scuffing of his shoes against the packed dirt that lead away from the schoolhouse. When she turned onto the main road, so did he. It went like that for a quarter of a mile before she snapped and turned on him.
"Quit followin' me!"
Phil glared at Gertrude and said defensively, "I'm not. This is the way I live. We must live in the same direction." They glared at each other until Gertrude scoffed and looked away.
"I can't stand the noise your shoes make when you walk behind me."
"Well then, how about I just walk with you?" Phil asked slowly.
Gertrude immediately bristled at the idea, "You're not walking me home." There was no way she wouldn't get tormented if the other kids found out.
"I'm not," Phil placated. "We're just walking in the same direction, side by side." And with a teasing smile he added, "I won't even ask to carry your books even though I know you want me to."
Gertie felt the heat rise in her face and averted her eyes. She snorted in an unladylike fashion, "Whatever floats your boat, wise guy."
And so they walked in silence, Gertrude trying desperately not to look at him and Phillip searching for anything he could say, but such was that neither of them could, so silence was the third companion until Gertrude reached her gate. It had once been an attractive white picket, now with flaky paint and missing posts that were replaced with pits of wire, thankfully not barbed.
Gertrude didn't wave to the dark-haired boy that had walked her home, but instead had hunched her shoulders against the embarrassment of the small house that could be seen from the street. Thankfully it was commonplace for there to be such small houses at this far edge of the main bustling city—which still had dirt roads on the main drags, but had stories higher than five stories—but she was sure Phillip with his nicely pressed school clothes lived in a much nicer home.
She came through the door, calling out her arrival and her mother who had been lounging with a magazine and a cigarette on the couch threw down her reading material and sashayed over to her daughter.
"Oh my darling girl!" she cried out, kissing her cheek and Gertrude didn't hide the smile at her mother's show of affection. "How was your first day?"
Her mother, a blonde woman of exceptional beauty, with a fashionable svelte figure and sense of style (but horrid luck with men) took her bag from her shoulder and lead her into the "parlor". (Gertie knew this was supposed to be a dining room, but her mother was always so good at rearranging homes to suit her needs. And now, parlors were very in).
"It was fine," Gertrude said noncommittally as her mother gently pulled her pigtails out of their ties. She had offered Gertie to have her hair sheered so that she may look fashionable like magazine models that the young girl enjoyed impersonating when she played dress up, but Gertrude was too nervous (and now didn't want to be anything like the girls at school) to sheer the hair that she had faithfully grew to past her shoulders.
Her mother gently pressed her with the palm of her hand until Gertie laid her head in her lap, not that she needed much leading—she adored having her hair played with. Dressed in an elegant gown of gossamer white and pale pink with a string of rosy pearls trailing down her chest, her mother kneaded her elegant fingers through her locks soothingly and asked, "Did you make any friends at school?"
"I think so," Gertrude said, too relaxed to be able to focus on spinning a nicer tale for her mom. "The boy in the desk ahead of me shared his reading book with me. Thankfully when we do group readings, we all stick to the same reading level."
She yawned and didn't think much of her mother's pause in scalp massage (for as volatile as her mother's relationships with men were, she was very protective of even a ten year old Gertie around any boy, child or otherwise).
Her mother's voice was warm and enveloped her like a blanket as she spoke. "Well, you will be pleased to hear that I procured your books for you today in town, so you won't have to share anymore. Won't that be nice!"
"Oh yes," a sleepy-eyed Gertie agreed.
Truth be told, Gertie—at the risk of more teasing—pretended she didn't have her reading book the next few days ("The bookshop clerk told my mother that it would arrive Sunday") and then the next few weeks she would conveniently forget it ("-on my nightstand. I love reading before bed" a latter half being a true statement, nonetheless), all for the chance to share with Phillip Shortman, who always offered.
If Gertrude thought she loved him the first day of class, she would have laughed at her former self knowing how deep her love would dive just after a few months as they rounded into the holiday season. It was to be expected considering the amount of time spent together. Try as she might to deny it, Gertrude waited by the west-facing window of the parlor every morning and stepped out the door just in time for him to pass her gate. Him being a gentleman—not to mention much desiring her company—would await her presence at the gate, open it for her even under her callous insults and walk her to school. Gertrude always clung tightly to her books, and Phillip relentlessly teased her about letting him carry them.
Once they reached the school yard, she ditched him, flying away from Phillip like a gust of wind. He was always perplexed by her insults and her pranks, many of which were almost too intense to handle, but as long as she thought of him, he didn't really mind how she did it. Okay...that was a lie. He definitely minded when she poured honey on him and rolled him on an ant hill (she was freakishly strong) and he definitely didn't like anyone making fun of his batting stance during stickball, even if it was the girl he harbored deep, affectionate, unrequited feelings for.
But the walks to and from school made it all worth it. Away from prying eyes, she blossomed like a flower in the sun, slowly at first, but then animated, like she was caught in a breeze and her emotions swayed this way and that. It was at these times that he felt like he really caught a glimpse of the girl under the rough exterior and had an inkling that maybe the shy, sensitive girl that showed herself the first day of school was the real Gertrude.
But boy did he get a real view of Gertrude, not the bully, but the won't-take-shit-from-no-one, tough-as-nails-like-her-momma-raised-her Gertrude, and it all happened the day Gertrude met his sister, Mitzi. It was the first time Gertrude had come into his home to complete an assignment for their Christmas Concert.
Mrs. Crenshaw had called attention to them both when assigning dialogues to the children, though she asked them straight away, "You both play piano, correct?"
"Yes, ma'am." From Gertrude.
"A little." From Phil.
Mrs. Crenshaw raised an eyebrow mildly as she eyed the pair. "I assume both of you being pupils of mine can at least interpret and learn this piece by our Concert date?"
She presented them with one copy of music, which Phil took and Gertie studied over his shoulder. Silence from both.
Mrs. Crenshaw, having had it up to her glasses with their squabbles during class throughout the year, went so far as breaking her "no one is moving from their assigned desk" policy by switching the two of them so Phil would stop turning around to often to argue with his classmate (though this seemed to be at the request of his father who insisted that Phillip claimed that Gertrude was the root of all disruptions, but, in her experience in that tiny school house and others besides, it always took two to make an argument). That seemed to work in terms of either of them talking during class, but somehow the arguments continued, even without Gertrude needing to turn around. Mrs. Crenshaw was a firm believer in treating children like adults in the fashion of they had to come reach their own interpersonal resolutions. Her job was to instruct them and nurture them, not lead them by the bit like a horse, or in the case of the these two, drag behind her like a pair of asses.
By gum, this project was going to bring settlement or so help her they could spend the rest of their school days in opposite corners wearing matching dunce caps. (She also was attempting to knit a "get-along-sweater" for the two of them: two sleeves, one large head hole, and cinches to pull each opening tight for good measure).
Both scholars nodded their heads and she nodded with an air of finality. "Good," she said with an unsympathetic voice.
On the walk home, Phil broke the silence asking after Gertrudes piano ownership status, to which she informed him that yes, she did have one, but it was terribly old (being her grandmother's) and out of tune. They were almost to Gertrude's gate, and Phil suggested, "Well, we have an old upright that was actually recently tuned. You should come over today and we can practice some. Get better acquainted...with the ivory." The last bit tacked on hastily for fear of how it sounded aloud.
Gertrude bit her lip. The thought of going to Phil's house, well that made her jumpy from nervousness and excitement. It was almost too easy to casually chirp "sure". But that meant that she would have to drop in and explain to her mother where she was going, why her chores would be somewhat neglected, and yes, she will be on time for dinner.
"I have a project my teacher assigned me with-" The person I love more than anything else on God's good, green earth. The person that sends my heart flying through the clouds. My mortal enemy when the time calls for it. "A friend."
Gertrude was able to play it off so well that even she-herself believed how nonchalant her voice sounded. Her mother however, had a look on her face. To the outside eye of a stranger, it looked fairly neutral, on the pleasant side to be sure, but to Gertie she knew this face. Her mother was trying to figure her out, like a puzzle. This was the most critical look she could receive from her mom, and she fought hard not to squirm under the gaze.
But, the look broke after a beat, and her mother was back to skimming her magazine with an amiable expression. "Okay, dear. Have fun and be careful."
Gertrude made her way out the door and back down the lane, knowing her partner was waiting for her, but not knowing that her mother was watching her walk away beside the same boy she walked to school with each morning. The curtain dropped across the window pane and the two were out of sight.
Phillip's home was two stories and Gertrude felt herself gaping. What a beautiful home. Red brick, a cheery green door, and a big stoop.
"You live here?" Gertrude gasped before she could stop herself and heard a chuckle from her companion.
"Yeah, well me and my dad, and some other families. It's a boarding house, so we have tenants." Gertrude took in with wide eyes, drinking in the details while the boy called out, "Father? Father, I'm home!"
Phil heard footsteps, but not the heavy, long gate of his father, but quick, light footsteps. Short and clipped, but all heel-toe-heel-toe. "Oh no," he muttered under his breath and Gertrude could only send him a quizzical look before a rather tall girl, both her and Phil's age entered the room, all knees and elbows...and chin, entered the room with a no-nonsense and eager step. Her bright auburn hair was cropped short and she wore a smart magenta skirt and sweater over a pressed and starched white blouse.
"Hey, there Philly. Brought home a little playmate did you?" Phil felt heat rise in his cheeks. He hated when his sister talked to him like he was a baby. They were the same age!
Instead of answering her, Phil asked sharply, "What're you doing here, Mitzi?"
"Why, this is my home, Phillip. Or is your public school education turning you into such an idiot that you forgot?" Before Phil could even open his mouth to retort, Mitzi was breezing passed him and making her way toward his companion. Oh, no. If he wasn't already humiliated enough, his friendship with Gertie was just building up. It would topple like a house of matchsticks if Mitzi was involved.
His sister marched right up to the blonde and thrust her hand out to shake it. "I'm Mitzi Shortman, Phil's twin sister. Older by six minutes."
Gertrude crossed her arms over her body as she ignored the proffered hand and asked Phil,"I thought it was just you and your dad that live here."
"I have been away at Our Lady of Prompt Succor School for Young Ladies on scholarship. Philly, here, didn't get awarded any such scholarship so he lives here all the time with our father, getting ready to take over the family business I suspect, while I have the world open to me in terms of career choice."
Phil raised his voice in order to defend himself. He didn't want Gertrude to think he was an idiot.
"The all boy's school didn't have a scholarship to win, and even if they did, there are a lot more boys to compete with than girls!"
"You keep telling yourself that, Philly. You tried for that scholarship and you failed. But, you can't help it," she said placatingly. "After all, you're just a dunce."
With every syllable Phil felt his face grow hotter and hotter, knew not just his cheeks, but his entire face, even his ears resembled a tomato.
But a clear, strong voice rang out in the foyer.
"Phillip is not a dunce." It was Gertrude. He had seen her yell, pick fights, all with signs of classic anger: shouting, threatening, posturing, especially at the boys. But this? She looked enraged, but it played over her face in a calm, restrained way that hid the caged wrath inside. She went on to raise her nose in a somewhat haughty gesture, her voice smooth and controlled, not betraying anything but the whip-sharp whit that cracked like lightning in her mind. "In fact, he leads our class in all subjects, even over the older students. He is what Mrs. Crenshaw describes as a model pupil, a scholar for all to aspire to be. And anyhow, enough about him. I want to hear about all about how you were awarded that scholarship to an all girl's school with that face. With a chin like yours, how you weren't mistaken for a boy really is a miracle."
And she said it all with the most indulgent, dignified voice. Phil could kiss her, maybe even would have if his mouth wasn't hanging open, then covered with his hand to cover a hoot and laugh at Mitzi's face who was stricken silent. Such noise would have soiled Gertrude's mental victory, so he stayed smugly silent. Gertrude rose an eyebrow, waiting for a reply from Phillip's older sister, but when none came she said.
"Well, you can tell me all about it once you find your voice that was so present just a few moments ago." Then with all the derision and contempt that she truly felt added, "I'd love to hear all about Our Lady of Rapid Succulence."
She brushed passed Mitzi, reaching out to grasp Phillip's elbow in and lead him further into the bowels of the house. "Come on, Phil. I'd like to say hello to your father before we get started on our duet."
Hey all! A belated Christmas present! I spent the last few nights and this morning writing so I hope you like it! I hope you have spent the season with friends and family. Love you all! As my New Years Resolution I'm going to try to update all of my stories more often, and finish two of them!
Here's hoping this one is one of them!
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