All the nights spent at sock hops and parties soon caught up with them all. The semester was winding down toward winter break and Juliet awoke one morning, feeling slightly panicked, amazed at all the end-of-term work she had to do! There was that field study for Doug's class--a book report in lit--an algebra final--and, most importantly, a presentation to do for history class.
"Oh, how am I going to do it?" she moaned to Trudy as they stopped for coffee between classes. "I can remember every party I've been to all semester but I can't remember a thing about logarithms!"
"How are any of us going to do it?" Trudy despaired. "Oh, Juliet, I had a dream last night that I was giving my final report on Millay in my poetry class--and I looked down--and I hadn't a stitch on! And Les Cunningham is in that class. I woke up feeling mortified as if it had really happened--then, when I went back to sleep, I had the same dream again!"
"Trudy," Juliet promised seriously. "I swear on a stack of Bibles that I won't let you leave the tower unless you are fully clothed. As long as you can tell me something about fractals!"
"I haven't the foggiest what a fractal even is," Trudy lamented. "Or what class its for. I suspect its got something to do with math--and if it has--you should ask Blair. He's got a head for figures. And perk up, Juliet--no matter how badly we do on finals Alice is bound to do worse. I haven't seen her crack a book all semester. She was at Milly Lowbridge's party last night when she should have been studying. She's got a history final due for the same class as you and she hasn't even picked a topic yet."
Juliet had picked her topic long ago. One of the matriarchs of Guelph's most esteemed family, the Watsons--of Watson Hall fame--had hired Juliet to do a geneaology of the family. She'd given her old diaries, ledgers and notebooks, and in one of them Juliet had read the story of a young girl who's family had hidden escaped American slaves. They had been the final stop on the Underground Railroad--after their house, freedom!. It was a fascinating document. After Juliet had done more research she'd picked a final topic--she would write her report on Canada's influence on the American Civil war. She was actually excited about it, and couldn't wait to start writing it! Her fingers itched to pick up the old journal Mrs. Watson had lent her, but she made herself work on her other projects first.
She even went to Blair for help with algebra and to her surprise found it really quite helpful. She could almost understand quadratic equasions when Blair was done with her, and before she'd been like a sailor lost at see in a damp white fog. She was surprised at the way cheeky, out-going Blair slipped into a serious, forthright mode while teaching her.
"You should think about teaching," Juliet marveled. "You've really got a gift for it."
"I suppose I have," Blair said honestly. "But teaching doesn't interest me, Juliet. I hate kids--they're brats. And I'd rather do something I'm not already good at--and make myself excel. I'm a terrible writer--but if I can conquer that, I can conquer anything. Anyone can be a teacher."
Juliet disagreed but said nothing. And she wished she could forget those several times in the lesson when she had looked up after finshing a problem and been paralyzed by Blair's seeking gaze.
Finally it was all done--the algebra exam, the paper for Doug on the benefits of earthworms to the plains agriculture, the book report on Eliot's The Wasteland which she'd found vastly depressing. Juliet got out her notebooks and pens and books and blotter paper and sat down at her desk to work on her history report.
She was still working when Greta came back from the library, and when Trudy came back from dinner with Carolina. She was still working when the other two girls finished their own studying and went to bed. Her hands were smudged and inky but she didn't even notice. Juliet felt possessed--by something greater than herself. She did not know where all the words came from--they simply flowed from her fingertips onto the page. Juliet had never understood how Mother could sit up and write all night--but she did now! Line after line of black, forthright writing appeared on the page. Where did it come from? She didn't feel like she had anything to do with it.
She finished up her written draft and lugged her old typewriter out into the hall and was working away still when Alice came home well after midnight. Alice, in her filmy blue dress and matching scarf--she stopped for a moment and watched her, a funny, wistful look on her face.
"What're you working on?" she queried.
Juliet looked up in surprise although Alice had been there several minutes and hadn't exactly been quiet coming up to the door. It was as if she were in a trance. "History paper," she said curtly, wishing Alice would go away.
"What are you writing it on?" Alice asked. Why wouldn't she go away? "I haven't started mine yet."
Juliet told her and Alice's eyes gleamed.
"What are you looking at me that way for?" Juliet asked peevishly.
"Nothing," Alice said admiringly. Alice--admiringly? "Only--you're so smart, Juliet. I wish I could be as smart as you. I know I'll never think of anything half so good as your idea. It's an awfully good topic."
Juliet felt a flash of kinship spring up between her and Alice. Poor girl--she really did look so forlorn.
"The only thing I'm really good at is going out and being social with people," Alice sighed. "But you don't know how many times I wish I could be a good student! I'd rather go out than do my work--not because I'm lazy--but because I know it won't be good. It's like a way of--escaping."
"Listen," Juliet said suddenly. "Alice, I know we haven't gotten along. But--I'll do anything I can to help you with your paper. All you have to do is ask."
"Wow!" Alice beamed down at Juliet. "That's really--very nice of you. I'd appreciate that. Even though I know it won't be anywhere near as good as yours."
'We'll go to the library tomorrow," Juliet promised. After Alice had gone inside, she typed the last few lines of her paper in the solitude of the hallway and pulled the final page from the typewriter with a resounding zip! Then she stood up and danced a silent jig in the hallway, and--
--and kicked over a bottle of ink. A soggy black pool spread over her paper. Juliet held her head in her hands for a minute and sighed, then sat back down and retyped it again. No matter--this would give her a chance to correct some of the mistakes she hadn't seen before. She crawled into bed when the sun was just peeking up over the horizon. Trudy was curled into a little ball, and Greta was snoring softly. And Alice--Alice lay dreaming with a small, sweet smile on her face.
"Oh, how wrong I was about you!" Juliet murmured, looking at the girl's sleeping form. Her eyelids fluttered. "Usually I don't like being wrong--but in this caseI do!"
* * *
True to her word Juliet did help Alice find a topic for her report. The girls went to the library and Juliet put together some notecards on the French-Indian war. Alice gushed her thanks.
"I don't mind--really," Juliet said. "I just wish you'd have come to me earlier so I could have been more help! The paper's due tomorrow--you'll have to stay up all night if you want to get it done."
"Oh, don't worry about me," Alice said, with a flippant wave of her hand. Juliet frowned. She certainly was taking this lightly! For a girl who'd been so upset last night. Well, maybe she worked well under pressure? Mother was like that--always calm and levelheaded in the face of the storm. "Do you want to go to lunch, Alice?" Juliet asked.
From across campus, Evelyn called Juliet's name and waved.
"No--you go," said Alice with a smile. "I'll go back to the tower and start on my paper."
But when Juliet got back from lunch the notecards were still in a stack on Alice's desk, and there was no sign of any work having been done. There was also a note from Alice taped to the door: Gone out. Don't wait up!
* * *
Juliet had a hard time falling asleep the night before her report was due. She was so nervous! She tossed and turned and tried to count the stars--she even crept down to the dorm kitchen for a glass of warm milk. Finally, when the stars in the east had just begun to dim, sleep overtook her.
It seemed like she had only been asleep for a moment when she awoke--to sun streaming in the windows. Juliet knew it must have been much later than she had planned to wake up. She'd set her alarm for eight o'clock so that she could read over her paper one last time before it was due. That was odd! Juliet followed her hand from along the cord at the back of the clock to the wall. It had been unplugged, but her wristwatch said it was five minutes to eleven! But--but--class was at eleven! And--why hadn't Alice woken her?
Juliet flew out of bed and dressed in a hurry. She pulled her hair into a quick braid and then looked in her desk drawer for the folder containing her report.
It was not there.
A chill overtook her, and Juliet shivered. She ransacked the room, looking for her fat blue folder.
It wasn't there--it wasn't anyplace!
Juliet cast one last, desperate glance at the clock. She had to go now, or she would be late. She would try to explain to the teacher later--! Where on earth could that report be?
Hair streaming behind her, Juliet flew in the classroom, the door shutting with a bang behind her. Everyone looked up and the teacher distinctly frowned. Meekly Juliet took her seat. Oh, there was Alice, up at the podium, about to give her own speech. Juliet crept quietly to her chair to listen.
"Miss Burns, you may go now," said the professor. "I trust there will be no more interruptions."
He cast a frosty glance in Juliet's direction.
"Thank you, Professor Jones," Alice said prettily, and cleared her throat. "I had a lot of ideas for this report, but after long and careful research, I chose the topic ofCanada's Influence on the American Civil War."
Juliet covered her mouth with her hand. That was her report! Alice was supposed to be doing hers on the French-Indian War! And she had--copied Juliet's idea. Juliet listened, shaking with rage, as Alice passed off Juliet's words as her own. She saw Professor Jones shaking his head in approval. Shake--shake--shake--she could not take it anymore.
"Judas! Traitor!" Juliet shouted, leaping to her feet, cutting Alice off midsentence. "That's my report!"
"Miss Kent!" Professor Jones, too, was on his feet. "What is the meaning of this?"
"She stole it from me!" Juliet cried, furious, frustrated tears running down her face. "That's my work, not hers."
"Juliet!" Alice laughed--a snide, hollow laugh without any mirth in it. "How dare you?"
"How dare you?" Juliet cried back. "Oh, you're a Judas--Judas!"
Professor Jones looked from Juliet's stricken face to Alice's haughty one.
"Girls," he said authoritatively. "I'd like to speak to you both after class."
* * *
"Professor Jones, I wrote that paper," Juliet said earnestly, her hands pressed together in a supplicating gesture. "I swear to you--you have the word of a Kent, of a Murray from New Moon--I did!"
The vow of a Murray from New Moon understandable had little effect on Professor Jones--and next to none on the history dean.
"You wrote it!" Alice countered. "I've been working on it for ages!"
Juliet ignored the other girl, but she was shaking like a leaf. "Professor--Dean," she said. "My two roommates saw me working on it. Mrs. Watson gave me the diary that I--she quoted from! They'll all vouch for me."
"Greta saw me working on the paper," Alice said. "She'll vouch for me."
"No, she won't," said Juliet, her eyes flashing. "Greta wouldn't do a thing to help you. You treat her so horribly!"
Juliet cried for a moment, and then peered out through her fingers. She had an idea.
"Professor!" she cried. 'Take Alice's--I mean, my--notecards away from her. Then ask her what the first sentence of the second paragraph is."
The Professor looked questioningly at the dean, and decided to do as Juliet bid him.
Alice did not know. Nor did she know the first sentence in the first paragraph, or the tenets set down in the footnotes on the third page. Juliet knew them all. She'd written the paper and typed it three times, remember! She started at the first word of the first line of the first paragraph and repeated the whole paper back to the amazed adults--and Alice--verbatim. It was obvious that she had written it. They watched the Kent girl as she talked--with such fervor, such passion about her subject. When she was done, both of the men clapped and the dean turned his cold eyes on Alice Burns and spoke for the very first time in this encounter.
"Miss Kent, you may go," he said. "And if Professor Jones doesn't give you the top grade for this paper than he'll be fired--anyone who couldn't see how good this was doesn't deserve to be a teacher at this institution."
Juliet gathered her things, with an odd, triumphant sense of light-headedness enveloping her. Her paper was good--the dean thought so--and it was hers. Alice started to get up, too, but the white-haired dean stopped her with a frosty rebuke.
"Miss Burns, please stay," he said and it was more of a command than a request. "We have certain things to talk over, as I'm sure you know."
Poor Alice--no! Juliet would not waste a moment of concern on her. What a terrible thing she had done! But it was over now.
"I suppose I've learned a valuable lesson," Juliet said to herself as she danced back across campus to Watson Hall. "I should have gone with my first impression of Alice. I won't say never, oh no--but I have learned this during my short sojourn on this earth: I didn't like Alice from the start, and first impressions are rarely wrong."
* * *
Glad you all are liking the story!
Terreis: Update your story soon! I know you just did, but I'm getting greedy for more Chris.
Miri: I've never been to Guelph, or Canada, but am frequenting their website for information. That's where I learned about Watson Hall--and the site says that you can "see the whole city" from the top!
Anonymous 327: Yes, Gilbert died. I'm sorry. But all of those first generation characters are getting old, and I wanted it to be realistic. Plus, I had a really good idea for a plot later on in the story that only works if he's goneand maybe Juliet and Blair will just stay friends? We'll see--I haven't thought that far ahead yet.