"Now there are some things we all know, but we don't take'm out and look at'm very often. We all know that something is eternal. And it ain't houses and it ain't names, and it ain't earth, and it ain't even the stars… everybody knows in their bones that something is eternal, and that something has to do with human beings. All the greatest people ever lived have been telling us that for five thousand years and yet you'd be surprised how people are always losing hold of it. There's something way down deep that's eternal about every human being." - Thornton Wilder, Our Town
Cathy didn't know what to expect when Evie opened the door. She hugged the bouquet of roses close to her chest and for a moment she felt like she was playing Mystery Date, wondering who was behind door number 2. Evie had told the girls that she had a friend she wanted them to meet, someone who was going through something way worse than anything they had gone through this week.
"She'll love the company," Evie said confidently when Cathy worried about invading this girl's privacy. Despite Evie's assurance Cathy wasn't so sure.
Cathy had worked at the hospital for a few months and while she knew exactly how each of the E.R. doctors on her shift preferred their coffee (black, with cream, extra sugar, no sugar but triple cream, black-except on Friday evenings and then with a pinch of sugar, whiskey); her job never gave her much chance to actually meet any patients.
Evie's job was different, as a gift store employee she had direct interaction with the patients and their families, she delivered the flowers and gifts to each patient until they were either discharged from the hospital-or not.
She wondered if any of Evie's patients had passed away. What was that like? What would it be like to visit someone, if only for 2 minutes a day to drop off a bouquet of Forget-Me-Nots, and then slowly over the course of those 2 minute visits you begin to learn snippets of their life, you find out that his wife was from Altoona and that he served in Pershing's Army and that he has ten grandchildren. Then one day you press the elevator button to the third floor, just to say 'hello' before your shift begins and you see the orderlies preparing fresh bedding and linens and the whole process starts all over again.
But if it was hard for Evie, she never said anything about it.
The girl who sat up in her bed was named Lynette. She was an ordinary looking girl, one who could easily fit in blindly in the halls of Will Rogers, except of course for her condition.
It was Bridget who made the first move. Her hand outstretched she greeted Lynette with a warm 'hello.'
"I'm Bridget Stevens, and this is Ella Mitchell and Cathy Carlson and of course you know Evie." If Bridget felt shy, she sure didn't show it, Cathy thought admirably. Lynette's shoulders relaxed and she stuck her own hand out. "Nice to meet y'all."
Cathy was impressed with how much at ease Bridget made Lynette. It was more than just being polite, it was Bridget's natural personality, she was warm and gregarious.
Cathy looked around for a vase, "do you mind if I put these in your room?"
Lynette nodded, "Aww, those are gorgeous! I've never received flowers." She seemed genuinely appreciative and Cathy in that moment felt extremely protective of Lynette. It was strange, she knew the girl for less than thirty seconds yet she already wanted to make sure Lynette was okay. Just as she wanted to make sure Ella, Bridget and Evie were okay as well; for as much as she made jokes about being the oldest of seven she had a genuine maternal instinct.
"So, how was Homecoming?" Lynette asked with a grin. All at once Evie, Cathy, Bridget and Ella's eyes met, four sets of eyes: brown, grey, green and blue, all with different ways of looking at the world yet all bonded by their experience.
There was a slight tension in the air. Cathy still couldn't believe what Vickie had done, or tried to do to Evie, if it was her she would have to transfer to a new school, that was all. But Evie was a lot stronger than anyone gave her credit for. Cathy looked at Evie with new eyes it wasn't just the whole Vickie fiasco, it was that Evie's first thought after own humiliation was not to drown in self-pity, as much as she might have wanted to, but to reach out to another person who needed good friends even more than she did.
Cathy knew Evie was brave, but she now she realized just how big the girl's heart really was.
It was Evie who broke the tension by laughing, "it was a crazy night, I'll tell ya all about it later." Lynette looked at her with a raised eyebrow. But the other three girls could do was laugh, yup 'crazy night' that seemed to say it all.
XXXXX
Cathy paced her bedroom like a woman on a mission, or at least like a girl on her way to getting an 'incomplete' in art class. With all the hubbub over Homecoming she hadn't had the time to devote to her art project and every time she tried to sit down and work on it she was either interrupted by one of the younger children or she just couldn't think of what to draw to represent Ella. She must have started and stopped about a six different paintings, none of them good enough.
I'd rather she just have us draw hands, Cathy thought with rolled eyes as she stared down at her smudged fingers. The project was due tomorrow and Cathy the overachieving perfectionist had nothing done.
It was funny when she first got the assignment she thought would be a piece of cake, she looked at Ella with her wild, bushy hair and immediately thought of a bush or a Weeping Willow. But now that she actually got to know Ella she wanted to create an art project that would truly reflect her friend.
With a sigh she sat on her bed, her hair flowing around her like a wild black river and tried to think.
Flowers. That was it. She could draw Ella as a flower. It seemed that every other girl in their class was being drawn as a flower. One girl named Rose was being draw, predictably enough, as a rose. Cathy didn't want to do what everyone else was doing, she wanted to do something special. Besides, she thought with a smirk on her lips, after Georgia O'Keeffe she would never look at flowers the same way again.
M&M knocked on the door. Cathy knew it was M&M because he was the only one of her siblings who remembered to knock.
"Come on in," Cathy sat up on her bed. M&M always had good ideas, maybe he would help her with this project.
The two Carlson siblings sat side by side on her bed, trying to figure out what to draw for the art project.
"I'm sure you'll get an 'A'" M&M told Cathy with a serious expression, "you always get As."
Cathy shook her head, "it's not about the grade; I really want to make something nice for Ella. She's a special person." Not about the grade, dear God, did those words really come from her mouth?
"She's reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, right?" Cathy scrunched up her shoulders, she wasn't quite sure.
"Um, I think so. How do you know that?"
M&M shrugged, "we talked about it at work, I told her I read it when I was eight, and that if she needed any help with it, I'd be happy to give her a hand."
Cathy winced to herself, M&M was a sweet kid and she knew he wasn't trying to sound full of himself when he told Ella that he read the book back in the third grade, but sometimes her brother didn't always think of how he came across. Come to think of it, the occasionally blunt girl thought to herself, it was a trait she and her brother shared.
"You were in third grade when you read it?" M&M had always been a prodigious reader.
"Nope, second, right after my birthday," he said evenly. "Well anyway, in the book there's this Tree of Heaven that's the symbol of the entire book, this symbol of survival and going on no matter what."
Cathy jolted up, yes this was exactly it! This what she would draw Ella as, The Tree of Heaven, graceful and strong.
"What does the Tree of Heaven look like?"
M&M scratched his head, "it's Latin name is Ailanthus altissima, it's a deciduous tree." Cathy had no idea what a deciduous tree was, but she nodded. M&M went on, "it's also known as the stink tre…"
"Edwin!" Cathy gave her brother a light slap across the arm, "I can't draw my friend as a stink tree! Oh my God!" She began to laugh and M&M only smiled slightly, his eyes as serious as ever,"it's still a nice tree."
XXXXX
Dallas Winston was up first. Cathy felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.
"If he humiliates her, I'll kill him," Cathy whispered to Ella.
Ella shook her head, "he won't."
Cathy still didn't like Dallas Winston at all, and she certainly wasn't going to pretend that she did, but she also knew what he had done for Evie and if she was honest with herself, she would admit that in the tiniest of ways her impression of the rough, towheaded teen had changed for better.
If the art teacher was nervous, she didn't show it. "You're up Mr. Winston," she proclaimed in a cheery voice as she pointed to the front of the room.
"I'll stay sitting," Dally said with annoyance and Cathy rolled her eyes. Evie's friend or not, he was still rude as anyone Cathy ever met.
"I drew you as a sun Mrs. G, cause you are my sunshine, my only sunshine." Dally said with a smirk.
Some of the kids let out muffled laughs.
But the teacher only smile, "I had no idea you were a Governor Davis fan, Mr. Winston." Dally's upper lip scrunched up, "huh?"
He then revealed his painting. To Cathy's great relief it was nothing offensive, it was just an orange circle. It was clear that Dally hadn't spent more than two minutes on the project, but he didn't humiliate her.
"I'm relieved and a bit surprised," Cathy leaned over and confessed to her friend.
"He can be decent, when he wants to be," Ella said with a new found confidence.
Cathy chewed on Ella's words. Dally was rude, had a bad attitude, could even be a bit of a bully, but unlike Vickie Harper he wasn't deliberately cruel. If she didn't know them, if she saw Vickie and Dallas walking in the hallway and she was asked who would be more likely to play a cruel trick at Homecoming, she would have guessed Dallas, and she would have been wrong.
"He can be nice, sometimes," Ella continued.
Something in Ella's tone caused Cathy to raise an eyebrow at her. Ella and Dallas?
Holy…
XXXXX
Cathy was nervous when Ella stood up to speak. She knew that Ella was shy and speaking in front of the entire class did not come easily for her, but she was also nervous about what Ella would say. Cathy was so use to analyzing and watching everyone else, she hadn't really thought of how she might come across.
Gosh how she wished she could take a smoke from her purse and just start puffing away. She was going to quit, she told herself, it was a nasty habit, but it was times like these that she really could use one.
As Ella walked up to the front of the room, Cathy's stomach churned, she tried to think if she did anything to offend Ella, if she made her mad in anyway. That's ridiculous, Cathy scolded herself, Ella was a friend, and she wasn't going to hurt Cathy. She trusted Ella.
"For my project I painted my friend Cathy." Ella looked at Cathy and smiled. Cathy smiled back and sat back in her chair, interested, but no longer anxious, in what her friend would have to say.
"I see Cathy as a nurturing person, she's calm, so I painted her as a rising wave over a calm sea, but she's also not afraid to stand up for what's right, she has a strong side, which is where the lightning bolt comes in." Then Ella looked directly at Cathy, "I admire her very much."
Her shaky stomach felt at rest.
Cathy felt a lot calmer than she did earlier in the day. Standing in front of the class, she revealed her picture. She drew a river, deep and blue, linking three islands covered with trees, plants and animals. Through the reflection of the river, the branches of the trees met each other.
Ella's painting was a lot better, Cathy thought dejectedly and for a minute she wished she could spend just ten minutes to add more details to the painting. But she had to go on. Even though she was scared, she knew she could handle it, and if she did mess up, if she get a, B or even lower, well, she would deal with it. She could handle it. She remembered Evie's words from earlier, she was brave.
It wasn't the same as facing an entire crowd of hostile teenagers, but Cathy promised herself she would handle whatever happened today with the same courage Evie showed at the dance. With a deep sigh, she collected her thoughts and began to speak.
"For my project I painted Ella Mitchell, over the course of the semester I got to know her and I now consider to be a good friend. This semester I got to meet three girls I probably would not have met otherwise. We didn't have a lot in common, and I guess some would say that we still don't. But even so, we became friends, and the reason I think we became friends is because of Ella. I painted Ella as a river, strong and steady, but deep and reflective. In this painting the river unites the disparate islands, forming one complete landscape. Without the river the islands would be left adrift. I drew the islands with a lot of flora and fauna and it's the islands that first capture your attention, but without the river the islands wouldn't exist, neither would the animals or plants. The river is quiet, unobtrusive, but the strongest force of all."
XXXXX
"I like Cathy, you two are great together." Ponyboy Curtis blinked. He wasn't surprised that Soda liked Cathy, Soda liked everyone, but Darry? Even though he and Darry were getting along better Pony was sure that his brother would disapprove of Cathy in some way.
"Yeah, thanks," Pony smiled at his older brother. He liked Cathy he really did. On paper, she was perfect. What did he write in his essay, that he didn't want to end up with a scatterbrained broad? Well, Cathy was the complete opposite of a scatterbrained broad, she was smart, had her head screwed on straight, was nice, dressed decent.
Now wonder Darry thought she made a good girlfriend for his brother, she was a less temperamental version of himself.
Yet as much as Pony liked her, she intimidated him. He didn't like to admit it, it made him feel weak and small inside, and hell, he certainly wouldn't tell the guys or maybe even Darry about his feelings. It was odd, Cathy was only a year older than he was, but in a way she acted a lot older.
If he was honest with himself, deep down he wondered what she saw in him. He was a quiet, almost shy guy, who thanks to Bob's death and the events that followed, had a rep for ill and good, depending on who you talked to and what story you believed. Pony gingerly touched the spot where George Clayton punched his face. He wondered if things would ever return to normal for him.
What did Cathy see in him? Did she see the tough hood who hung out with Curly Shepard and Dallas Winston? Or did she see the local boy who saved those children from the fire? Did she see him as the dreamer, like Cherry Valance did? Or maybe she just saw a teenager like her, trying his best to navigate a treacherous confusing road to adulthood, just like she was.
Pony stood up and glanced out the window, the sun was about to set. He wondered if Cathy could see the same sun from the hospital snack shop. Suddenly, he had an idea.
"Hey Darry, since it ain't a school night, I'm gonna visit Cathy, I think she might like the company."
Maybe, they would look at the sunset together.
XXXXX
When Bridget got a note in second period that simply read, What's the story, morning glory?, she knew immediately who it was from, and with a sneaking glance at both her friend Missy next to her and Mr. James lecturing at the front of the classroom, she wrote beneath Two-Bit's message, What's the tale, nightingale? and passed it right back.
Have you heard about Hugo and Kim?
What do you want?
Oh, FINE. Meet me at the usual place at seven, Ann-Margret.
Ah, yes – the usual place. The steps of the school. Meeting up with Two-Bit always felt so taboo, so…so naughty, almost. Just the thought of it as she did her homework after school was enough to make her blush. She and Jerry had gotten through homecoming unscathed – as a couple, at least – but the whole ordeal had only made Bridget more curious, and want Two-Bit more, even if that wasn't the right thing to do.
Speaking of the right thing:
Another thought came to mind as she put the finishing touches on her's and Lucy's English project. Vickie hadn't made contact with anybody after the dance, not the entire weekend. Nobody heard a word. Bridget, Missy, Cherry, Marcia, and Penny held a crisis meeting at Marcia's house, attempting to get Vickie to pick up her phone, but no luck. And she didn't show up to any Halloween parties – at least, not the one Bridget had gone to (dressed as a cowgirl, which everyone got a hoot out of seeing the city slicker in that get-up, thanks very much). That, it seemed, was that, then. Until Monday morning, this morning, when Bridget shut her locker to see Vickie waiting for her…
Bridget jumped. "Vickie! You scared me," she added gently.
"We need to talk."
The shorter, smaller, meeker girl knew exactly what her maybe-friend was getting at. "I think you're right."
Vickie bit back a snarl. "I don't know what came over me. Look, Bridget – I'm just trying to look out for you. You've built yourself a good reputation here. Girls like Ella and Catherine…they're…fine," Vickie lied for her friend's benefit, "but Evie? She gets herself into some pretty scary situations, and I don't want anything to happen to you," she finished gently.
Bridget didn't know what to make of this. Maybe Evie did get herself into scary situations – maybe Bridget could do with a little scaring. "Well, you still didn't have to do what you did."
Vickie wilted a bit. "You're right," she admitted. "Just because I think the two of you shouldn't be friends – the four of you, really – doesn't mean that I should have let it bleed over into the evening. It was wrong of me, and I'm sorry."
What was this? Vickie Harper, apologizing? Bridget was almost too shocked to respond. "Well, yeah…"
"I hope you can forgive me," Vickie continued. Because what she had done on Saturday really had scared the blonde a little bit. She did believe Evie Martin was a whore and Ella and Cathy were a couple of dopes, but sometimes…well, sometimes she just lost control of herself. She really should've kept this to a smaller scale. "I might not like with them" (understatement) "but it was still wrong."
Bridget sighed. Of course, she'd forgiven Vickie. She had such a grip on her, which she hoped to break from someday. Perhaps it had been a moment of weakness. The whole weekend had left her feeling pretty drained, really; first with the excitement of Evie's salon, meeting some so-called "rough" girls like Angela Shepard, and then the dance itself. All of it had culminated in her getting sick in the girls' restroom the night of the dance, which was embarrassing even if Evie, Ella, and Cathy were the only ones who knew. She'd carried a sick feeling with her all weekend, and probably shouldn't have gone to that party or to see Lynnette…but Evie had insisted.
That was the one bright spot in all of this, meeting Lynnette. She really did have it rough, just like Evie had said. As the bus let her off and Bridget walked to the back of the school, she made a mental note to bring her some chrysanthemums, or something seasonal, and pay her a visit. Maybe they could do nails, or something.
As promised, Bridget found Two-Bit lounging on the concrete steps, like some cool cat, smoking a cigarette. He didn't have any pomade in his hair, which she found a bit odd, but she liked it. "Hi, Two-Bit."
He looked up and smiled at her as she walked over to him. "Howdy, Bee. Glad you could make it."
Bridget stopped just short of the steps and smirked, putting her arms a bit out to the side as if to say What'd ya expect? "Don't I always?"
He nodded. "Ya do," he allowed. "Wanna sit? Ya look a little peaked."
"I'm fine," she mumbled. Just the simple act of talking was enough to drain her. It took too much energy. Getting through this weekend hadn't helped her to feel as good as she thought it would. "Well, better, at least."
"That's good. Yeah, I'd noticed the uh…" He gestured to the edge of his mouth, underneath the right corner. "On Saturday night, when we talked, you had a bit dried there."
Bridget blushed and her eyes went wide. "I did?" She squeaked.
Two-Bit chuckled. "Aw, Bee – trust me, I've seen women in worse ways. And believe me, I've been hungover enough times in my life to know what dried-up puke looks like." Oh, but his voice was smooth. Even when he was talking about vomit. The sound of it sent a shiver down Bridget's spine. He noticed. "Y'okay?"
"Cold," she sort-of lied. It was a lie in that it wasn't the cause, but it was true all the same. Winter was starting to bear down on them, and it wouldn't be long before the holidays came, and with it break. Bridget held her arms closer to her chest. Two-Bit frowned, and – being the gentleman that he sometimes was – took off his jacket and held it out to her.
"If you'd like," he said, remembering the last time he'd offered his jacket to her and she snapped at him. It still smelled a bit like she did: the powdery, talcum-sweet scent of Pond's; White Shoulders perfume; a bit like homemade bread. In short, she smelled fucking wonderful. She'd refused at first last time, but this time she wordlessly accepted and shrugged into it.
"Thanks," she said, finally sitting beside him.
"Welcome. So."
"So."
"About the dance…"
"Yeah," Bridget sighed. "That was a mess. But really – thank you, for what you and Dallas did. Who would have won, by the way?"
Two-Bit took another drag off his cigarette and seriously considered not telling her. Because it had surprised him and Dallas good. "Well," he drawled. "There was a tie."
Bridget sputtered. "A-a-uh-a tie?" She repeated. "What – ?"
"I know," Two-Bit sighed. "Between Vickie and Evie. Seems Miz Harper didn't do her math right," he winked.
"Or Evie got the votes on her own," Bridget whispered solemnly.
"Or both! But shoot, kid, it worked out."
"Sorta," Bridget grumbled. "Did your friend Ponyboy have a good time, at least?"
Two-Bit snorted. "Guess so. He said he did, but he was a bit baffled when his date disappeared for a little bit there…" He slid his eyes over to Bridget. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would ya?"
Bridget blushed again. "I might," she whispered. "Cathy's a good friend – she stuck up for Evie to the end. And I think she always will."
Two-Bit hummed lowly. "That's good. She ain't a thing like Pony, from what I can tell."
Bridget smirked. Two-Bit was such a male; from what she could tell, Ponyboy and Cathy did have things in common. But…"It won't last."
"Not at all."
Bridget slid her eyes over to Two-Bit and tried to hold back a big grin. "He's too thin."
Without missing a beat, "She's too tall."
Bridget couldn't help but giggle. "So, what, are you secretly some big Bye-Bye, Birdie fan?"
She laughed harder at Two-Bit's expression. "Nope! Kathy dragged me to see it a couple years ago – she's into that girly musical shit like you are."
Bridget's laughter wound down. "You should tell me about this Kathy of yours sometime."
"Fuck no. We ain't even really together anymore. Hey, you need a ride?"
Bridget felt like he was being too kind. And that's what it was – he was being kind. Really, he'd been nothing but kind to her for the longest time. Ever since that incident in class with Jimmy Hopper. Sure, there was some ribbing still, but…well, things had been different for a long time now. And she suspected they would continue to become more and more different. And if they kept going on this trajectory…well, she could only imagine (could only hope) where they would end up. But Bridget imagined that wherever they ended up, they'd be together, somehow.
"You really don't have to. I'm sure you have places to be."
Two-Bit looked at her funny, but he was smiling. "Not really. I don't mind, peach. C'mon, lemme give you a lift. Won't be good for ya to walk home in this weather, you'll just get sick again."
The problem with Two-Bit, Bridget realized, was that he was always genuinely concerned. Even thought it had just been nerves (and disgust with herself), other boys wouldn't have – and historically haven't – looked out for her wellbeing, and Two-Bit seemed to be doing a better job of it than Bridget herself. Any other boy would have sounded so fake making the same offer, but Two-Bit never did. No, he never did. He looked at her with the kindest of eyes and asked to make sure she was alright, and probably in more ways than one.
She could fall in love with a boy like him.
But that didn't mean that she still didn't need to keep up appearances.
"Just this once," Bridget allowed. "But I can't keep imposing on you like this."
When Two-Bit helped her up into the cab of his truck, before shutting her door, he smiled at her – not the hundred-watt grin, but a real one all the same – and said, "Darlin', you could never be an imposition." He sure did have a way with words. But they let Bob Dylan do the talking on the way home, crooning on about tambourine men and rolling stones.
XXXXX
"Alright – here it is."
Bridget thrust her (and Lucy's, she supposed) paper in Lucy's face, who just smiled benignly and took it from Bridget's hands. She looked it over as if she were some big-time persnickety editor who had the gall to think she had any sort of say in what the paper said even after doing nothing, not even bothering to read her own book. Bridget had felt pretty heated about the whole thing, and the whole ordeal reminded her why she didn't exactly like working with partners or groups; nobody ever did the work, and used her benevolent and timid nature to their advantage and made her do all the work. And you'd think that since she could recognize the problem she'd be able to do something about it, but…no.
"Looks great! Thanks so much, Bee, I know I was sorta a lousy partner, but you know how my math grade was…"
There were three things wrong with that statement: Lucy didn't look at it long enough to even know what the paper said, she hadn't said a thing about a lousy math grade, and where the hell did she get off calling her Bee? Goodness gracious. Instead of saying all that, though, she just coldly said, "Why don't you go put it in the tray?" and left it at that.
A few rows over, Evie and Ella were going over their report one final time, making sure there wasn't a comma or integral detail out of place. Well-manicured fingers traced underneath lines of a poetic essay that compared two female characters that represented the strength of the so-called gentler sex. Hester and Franny would be proud.
"Think it's good?" Ella asked, and Evie nodded.
"I think it is," she said confidently. But both girls thought quietly to themselves that the grade on this silly project didn't matter – what was important was that the stupid thing had brought them together and made them friends.
"Alright, class," Miss Tracy started right away as the bell rang and she waltzed into the room, "if your paper isn't already in the tray, go ahead and get it in." And then a swarm of kids got out of their seats and shuffled through the line to submit their papers, and then shuffled back to their seats, giving their partners those smiles that said Well, nothing left to do for it now!
"Wonderful, thank you for getting those in," Miss Tracy grinned, and Evie watched her with a critical eye. She didn't look like some scheming ho-bag; she looked normal. She looked like a perfectly normal teacher who probably wouldn't sneakily call out one of her students. Right? "I'll get those graded as soon as possible. I hope you enjoyed the books you each got to read. I tried to give you each something I thought would resonate."
Nevermind.
"The next book we'll be reading as a class is Thornton Wilder's play Our Town, and I thought it might be fun to read it aloud, since it's a play…."
Evie ended up tuning her out. How could Miss Tracy expect her to care about Our Town when it had become abundantly clear (in Evie's mind) that her own English teacher was out to get her? Well, she wouldn't let her get away with that, no ma'am. When the bell rang to end class, Bridget bolted out of there as fast as she could, but Evie hung back. Ella gave her a strange look.
"Are you coming?" She asked, clutching her books to her chest. Evie waved her off.
"I have a question. See ya later, Ella."
Ella could only hope she would, so she gave Evie a little wave and left. Evie waited for everyone to leave the classroom before she approached Miss Tracy's desk, The Scarlet Letter in hand, and feeling emboldened. Miss Tracy was sitting behind her desk doing teacher stuff when Evie slammed the book on her desk and made her look up.
"Evelyn - ?"
"Why did you give me this book?" Evie asked bluntly.
Miss Tracy looked confused, which Evie thought was just rich. There was no point in her playing around like this; she had assigned her that book because she thought she was a whore – Evie just wanted to hear her say it. "Did you not like it?"
Evie huffed. "That's got nothin' to do with it – "
"With what?"
Evie rolled her eyes. "The book is fine," she clarified. "It's…fine. But why did you have me read it?"
Miss Tracy had never had a student speak to her in this way before; however, she was sort of glad that Evelyn was. Maybe the book had done its job. "Well, I just thought – "
"Did you?" Evie asked, her voice cracking just a bit. "Because, well, not only does the entire school think I'm a whore, but so does my teacher. And that ain't right, I don't think. I know I may not be the smartest student you have, Miss Tracy, but I thought that was pretty low."
Now Miss Tracy was really confused. She glanced down at her desk, feeling her ears burn a bit at the accusation. Though, now that she thought about it, Evie was making some sense – she could see how she was conflating the events of this past weekend with this book. Hopefully, she didn't think she had anything to do with the troubles the teacher had heard she'd gone through. But she'd never meant to make her feel this way. "Evelyn – "
"Evie," she corrected.
"Evie, I didn't assign you that book for this reason. I assigned it to you because I thought you might draw something from Hester's strength. You never really said much before, and I know you aren't exactly friends with some of the other girls in this class" – Evie swore she could hear the unspoken adjectives: the other rich, modest, bright girls – "and I thought perhaps maybe you might be able to identify with her. And-and I paired you with Ella not just because both of the books' central characters being female, but because I thought perhaps that book might help her in the same way, and that the two of you could maybe…help each other?" She finished.
Evie stared dumbfounded at her teacher. So…so she hadn't assigned her that book because she thought she was some sort of slut? But that had been the only reason she could ever come up with, even if she had ended up identifying with Hester in some way. She wondered if Ella had felt the same with her book. "Oh," Evie whispered, feeling a bit embarrassed now for a different reason. "Um. I guess I didn't consider that."
Miss Tracy gave her a kind smile. "That's alright."
"So…you don't think I'm a slut?"
"No," Miss Tracy vehemently shook her head. "Not at all. Of course not! Look…all of you girls are different. It's none of my business to tell you what your style should be, but I think you would all benefit from judging each other by the contents of your character, not what the other girl is wearing. The way you dress is no better than, say, the way Bridget dresses. Neither one is right or better, just…different."
Not better, just different. Evie tucked that away in the back of her head and held onto it for when she needed it. "I s'pose," she allowed. "Bridget's a friend of mine now," she said, surprised she'd tell a teacher something like that. And that she would ever consider Bridget Stevens a friend.
"You seem friendly with each other."
"Why did you give her the book you gave her?"
Miss Tracy chuckled a bit. "That girl was in serious need of a spiritual wake-up call. She's looked scared since the first day of school, and didn't start to get better until she read that book. At least, for me."
A spiritual wake-up call. Huh. Evie was going to have to ask her about that. If only Cathy had been in here with them! They could have some sort of book club. "Well. Sorry to bother you, Miss Tracy."
"Don't be sorry. And don't be sorry about being different, Evie – we're all a little different in our own way. We just have to find the people who see that different and embrace it."
XXXXX
The locker rooms were steamy and hot, and Ella felt like her lungs might collapse from how deep her inhalations were. She had never been a fan of gym class, or anything involving sports, especially when participating involved going outside. It was a particularly humid day, and Ella was so longing for the much crisper and cooler days—it was November already, for goodness sake.
The brown-haired girl ran her fingers through her wet locks, studying her face in one of the mirrors of the girls' locker room. As she stared at herself almost critically, she remembered Cathy's painting from earlier that morning in art class, wondering how she could view herself so differently. She certainly never saw herself as someone emitting strength, but then again, what had happened during the homecoming dance, along with the events that had taken place beforehand, proved that Ella, Cathy, Bridget, and Evie all emitted some form of strength in one way or the other. Ella smiled, remembering that night and how anxious they had all been—it seemed like a lifetime ago now.
Oh, but how she wished her hair could stay the way Evie had perfected it—in beautiful ringlets. Now her hair was back to its normal chaotic, mind of its own, catastrophe—and Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, but it was wet, no less. Ella sighed, reaching for her brush to pull the thick and frizzy strands out of her face when another girl—one that made Ella internally cringe—came to stand beside her at the sinks.
"Hi, Angela," she greeted, voice low and almost quivering.
The black-haired girl raised an eyebrow, glancing back at Ella through the mirror. "Ella, right?" she asked, beginning to fix her makeup coated eyes. "I remember you."
Ella nodded. "Yeah."
"Shame what that Harper bitch did to Evie, even if I don't really care for her either way," she remarked, almost sounding casual. But Ella knew better. "Harper will get what's comin' to her, though, and I hope her Soc-y ass is ready for it." A lethal smirk crept along her lips. "Ya know, our kind don't take lightly to when one of our own is fucked with, and Evie is no exception."
The older teen could only stare. "I suppose, but I think there's been enough . . . drama to last the rest of the school year."
Little Angela only chuckled. "Sure, sure. I'll bet your friend, Bridget, is already making up with her—Harper. It's how things go, you know? She might be an acquaintance of yours now, but watch. And mark my words, Ella, Bridget and her will be back to prancin' along as friends in no time. Just because y'all had some friendly project to work on for homecoming don't mean nothin', and it won't in a few weeks. Things'll go back to normal soon. You'll see."
When she walked away, Ella felt a sinking feeling in her gut. She wondered, then, what would happen after that day—when she and Evie, and she and Cathy, were no longer partners for any project—would they remain friendly? Would they go back to ignoring each other? It was a bitter feeling to have, one that Ella really didn't want to think about. But Angela had been right, or somewhat right, on one thing. Bridget and Evie would never be in the same crowd, even if they could remain courteous toward one another, and Cathy was already worldly—in some way—strong and nurturing. She was going places, Ella was sure, and she couldn't help but see her as a future teacher some day.
Still, she wondered what would happen to the four of them after this day.
Meanwhile, across the locker room, Evie was rummaging through her makeup bag for her liner, a scowl on her face as she wondered where the hell it was. She was never without her beauty supplies—call her a girlie girl or whatever, but Evie had always been prepared to look her best . . . for any event, rain or shine. Pursing her lips, Evie tossed her hands up in the air, a deep sound rumbling in the back of her throat as she silently cursed everything under the sun.
"Lookin' for this?"
Evie jerked around, brows furrowing as she glared at Sylvia. "You stole my liner?"
Sylvia shrugged, and Evie wanted to sock her right in her perfected outlined eyes. "I might've snooped around your belongings while you were showering." She held her hand out to the taller girl, a defeated expression crossing her face for a second as Evie snatched the makeup out of her hand. "Look . . . I heard about . . . what happened—"
"Don't," the brunette responded sharply. Glory, but she had gotten enough strange looks that day to last her an entire lifetime. Well, at least she and Steve were okay—even though they hadn't exactly made up just yet—which was just about the only good that had come out of the homecoming disaster dance. "It's over."
"I know," Sylvia said, and plopped down on the bench beside Evie. She rolled her eyes, looking like what she wanted to say was going to take a lot of effort for her to get out. "I'm sorry that I acted like a bitch the other week. I didn't mean to get all over your shit about the Stevens chick."
And Evie gave her a surprised look, standing up straight as she placed her hands on her hips. Sylvia had always been . . . well, stubborn, and Evie was certain that she had never—not once—heard any form of an apology from her. Still, there was a sound in her voice that let Evie know that she was actually being sincere, and judging from her pleading—and disgusted—expression, she did mean it.
The girl sighed, shoulders dropping. "Don't worry about it, Syl. I told you it's all over."
"So, we're good, then?" And, not waiting for an answer, Sylvia continued on sounding almost relieved and ecstatic, everything else forgotten. "I was wonderin' if you wanted to get together after school, you know, to hangout like old times? I think Kathy is gonna—"
"I don't think so," Evie cut in, turning to draw her liner on. "I've got other plans tonight, so I ain't gonna be around."
For a moment, Evie thought that Sylvia looked upset, but the look on her face was rapidly wiped away, replaced with the more sarcastic one that seemed to be glued to her skin. Evie didn't exactly have any plans that evening, but . . . she needed a break. She needed a break from school, projects, gossip, drama, hair, beautification . . . The list seemed to be never ending, but Evie couldn't help it. She just wasn't in the mood to celebrate anything. And there was some part of her that didn't want to go out and celebrate old times with Sylvia—not then, and certainly not any time soon. It was as if, in the weeks that past, Evie had become a different person, the things she once cared about not seeming to really to matter all that much anymore.
She figured that she was fortunate, though. She didn't have a lot, but she had enough, and she was okay with that. Of course, Sylvia was her friend, and she always would be, but she just didn't feel the same way about her or Kathy that she once did. She wondered, if only briefly, if Bridget felt the same way about Vickie Harper, or Cathy about Angela Shepard, or Ella about Dallas Winston.
Huh, perhaps they had all grown in some way, having learned from each other, having listened to each other, having understood each other . . .
Perhaps each of their stories had been rewritten by being each others friend.
XXXXX
Dallas crossed his arms, running his tongue over his teeth, as he pressed his back against Ella's locker, a scowl on his face. He wasn't thrilled about seeing her, or rather, waiting for her, but he figured that they had some things to discuss. He could have waited until later that afternoon when they met up for the tutoring, but the blond wanted to get this shit over with, and quickly. His expression shifted once he spotted the brown-haired girl's frizzy mane, a smirk forming across his lips as he considered taking a jab at her hair—Jesus, but it sure could have used some TLC . . . in the form of a bushwhacker, no less.
"Hey, sweets," the towheaded teen greeted, looking down at her impishly. At Ella's bewildered and stunned countenance, he continued on arrogantly. "So, exactly how long did it take Evie to tame that hair of yours, pooch?"
Ella, for all her worth, shot him an incredulous look, eyes broad and jaw nearly dropped. But she was quick to straighten up, chin raising as she glared straight into Dallas's icy eyes. "Less time than it would take to fix any part of you, Winston." She shook her head, turning away from him to spin her combination. "A good bath would probably kill you to start."
"Feisty today, huh," he replied, stepping to the side so that she could open her locker door. "Anyways, now that this dance shit is outta the way—"
Before he could finish, Ella cut him off. "Yeah, about that. I told you that Bridget Stevens had nothing to do with what Vickie Harper was doing."
Dallas scoffed, not in the mood to hear about Buzzing Bee Stevens, but he had come to find that Ella had been right all along. He didn't particularly care for the Soc chick, but . . . she had helped Evie out in some way, so he figured that she was . . . fine. And that was it. Still, admitting to Ella that she was right, and that she had been, wasn't something he was going to do, so he ignored the girl's statement, deciding she could bask in her own excitement.
"Whatever," he bit out, and nearly cringed when she began braiding that mane of hers. "I've been hearin' a lot of shit about Evie and some picture or somethin'."
And Ella felt her heart plummet downward. "Oh, yeah. Well, Vickie had copies of a picture of Steve and Evie . . . kissing and placed them on the table. That's what her announcement was all about; she wanted to humiliate Evie in any way that she could."
The blond rolled his eyes. He remembered Two-Bit going on about Vickie having a back up plan if things didn't go her way, and he remembered the announcement from the Harper bitch, but he hadn't stuck around long enough to see exactly what the hell had happened. He had left the building, and only met up with Two-Bit a while after, until they were interrupted by Buzzing Bee Stevens.
Whatever. It didn't matter any more than chatting with Ella did—at least, to Dallas, it didn't. Things would eventually clear up, and everything would fall back into place, going back to the way it was—it always worked like that.
"That all?"
Ella nodded. "Evie will be okay, though. I know she will."
"Sure," Dallas said, and yawned, itching for a smoke. "So, about this afternoon, sweets . . ."
XXXXX
Evie and Steve hadn't done a lot of talking in the past few days, but they seemed to be fine at the dance the other night. Still, Evie wasn't sure that they were exactly okay just yet, and the growing need to speak to him was irritating her. Usually, their arguments were light and never lasted more than a day, because neither one of them could bear the thought of intentionally hurting the other. But Evie was still stubborn, and she wanted Steve to come to her.
"Eve . . ."
Speak of the devil!
Evie jerked around, surprised to hear his voice, but a gloomy expression was still plastering her face, and Steve's own look of sheer hesitation caused her to freeze momentarily. She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow as she stared up at him, willing herself to not give in so easily. But damn, his eyes, those eyes . . . Evie deflated, no longer in the mood for this bullshit. She just wanted to forget about everything, just wanted to put the last few weeks behind her.
"Steve."
He rubbed the back of his head, pursing his lips. "Look, I didn't mean what I said the other day, ya know? I was . . . worried about ya, and . . . damn, Evie, I'm sorry, alright? I never meant to hurt ya or nothin'."
Evie shook her head, though. "You were right, Steve. I mean, I wouldn't have listened to ya even if I knew what Harper was plannin', but . . . I'm sorry, too." And then she sighed, shaking her head a little before peering back up at her boyfriend. "Can we just forget this?"
And with that, Steve visibly relaxed. "I think I'd like that." He gathered her in his arms, pulling her body closer to his, breathing her in and relishing in the feeling of her being that close to him. God, but he sure loved her.
Evie pressed her head against Steve's shoulder, fingers digging into the back of his shirt. "You know, I don't got any plans for tonight."
"That an invite?"
"It might be . . ."
Steve pulled back to give her a small smirk. "I don't got any plans for tonight, either." His lips found hers a second later, and in that second, both teens allowed themselves to forget about the events that had led them to this point, that had caused their fight.
But Evie quickly pulled back, an almost worried look on her face. "I don't think I want anymore pictures of us doin' this kinda thing in school."
Steve stared at her for a good moment, before laughing. "Ya know, Evie, that picture was kinda hot . . ."
A light whack on the shoulder only made him laugh harder.
XXXXX
Four girls met up in the student parking lot after school that afternoon. It felt odd in a way, since they had always met up to discuss the salon, details, plans . . . but now there was nothing left to do, and they didn't exactly have anything left to discuss business wise. Each girl wondered about the other, though, wondered what would happen, or become of them. In the end, they had all learned something from each other, had grown to understand one another, and each girl had been a lesson to the other.
"So," Cathy said, for once sounding indifferent, as if she were at loss for words. "I can't believe that we survived the dance."
Evie allowed a smirk to brush her lips. "Yeah, I suppose I'll always have an award to remember it by."
Ella chuckled lightly as Bridget smiled. "Well, if there's ever another dance . . ."
There was a pregnant pause as each girl glanced at the other, eyes meeting for only a second. Would there be another time that they would get together? Ella would still see Cathy and Evie and Bridget in class every day, but would things after this still be the same? Well, in the end, Bridget was still a Soc, Evie was still a greaser, and Cathy and Ella were both in the middle, thrust in the center of a divide that was only visible to that town it seemed.
Bridget spoke up, then. "If there is ever another call for business, my house is always open to you three."
"Thanks . . . Bridget," Evie said, a sincere sound in her voice. "For everything."
And the black-haired girl nodded. "You, too . . . Evie."
A car horn pulled the girls away from their conversation, and they looked back to see Steve whacking Two-Bit upside the head from driver's seat, Ponyboy laughing in the back seat, and Dallas smirking ever so casually beside Two-Bit, who was leaning against Steve's car, still trying to reach in to honk the horn again.
"Well, I guess I'll see y'all around," Evie said.
There was a chorus of "Definitely", "Of course", and "Absolutely," that followed, and as each girl went their separate way that afternoon, they all hoped that they would, for four girls met up in the student parking lot that afternoon, and those four girls walked away from each other only moments later, knowing that the bond they had formed over the past few weeks would never be forgotten.
XXXXX
Author Notes:
Cathy Carlson became Mrs. Curtis. Mrs. Darrel Curtis, that is. Evie Randle did her hair and makeup for the wedding and assured Cathy that no one could even tell she's pregnant. "Besides, who the hell cares what others think," Evie said with a grin. I'm told that Cathy's hair and makeup that day looked fabulous. But what else would we expect from Evelyn Martin Randle? Cathy and Darry would go on to have four children, Karen, Carlson-Darrel, William and Thomas. Between her part time job as a hospital administrative assistant, member on the PTA Board (Harper Valley has nothing on Tulsa!), service organizations, Cub Scout Den Mother, and serving as a chauffeur to her four children and whatever friends they bring home, she keeps herself busy. But every now and then she remembers three girls she met her Sophomore year of high school. It is because of those girls that every so often she'll volunteer to take flowers up to a patient's room and visit with them and to see life beyond her bubble and to be grateful for all that she has. Then she'll remember a quote: "Nobody sees a flower - really - it is so small it takes time - we haven't time - and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time." She'll sit down, smell the roses, look out the window and remember what her friend and brother-in-law told her, and she'll watch the sun set. Then as always, she'll go back to her work. Cathy's story is continued in The Visit, and if you ever catch her sneaking out to take a smoke, well, that will just be our little secret.
Bridget's story is furthered in the Don't Think Twice series, but in case you're curious, Angela is right and wrong: Vickie does get what's coming to her (in a manner of speaking), but things don't exactly go back to normal, and she and Bridget part ways (let's just say there's another memorable dance in their future). The transplant leaves Tulsa after high school and returns to the Big Apple - but this isn't an instance of choosing a career over love because the dumbass she fell for in high school follows her up there (eventually), and they get their own wonderfully fucked-up version of happily ever after with the house and the kids and the jaunty singing of old songs around the piano (and the kids will wonder who let Fred and Ginger into the house.) As for her new friends? Bridget doesn't forget, and she would never forget three of the girls who made her time in Tulsa bearable (and Mrs. Evie Randle won't let her, considering they're glued to each other at family functions.) As her husband would say, those few weeks in the fall of 1965 would make a helluva story someday.
Ella's story continues on through Green Light, where she learns many valuable lessons about life, herself, people, and friendship. But the most prominent friendship and lesson she always remembers is the one she learned through three girls, three girls who became a large part of her life in the beginning of the school year (1965-1966). Ella goes on to form some unlikely friendships—especially with the one person she couldn't stand—but her later run-ins with Evie Martin caused a closer friendship between the two girls that neither expected.
The three of us - This Is Melodrama, lulusgardenfli, and AndThatWasEnough - want to thank all of you for your support, feedback, and enthusiasm for this story. Thank you for reading!