I told myself that I would go with full concentration and effort the rest of the school week in my two problem classes. And, I did try, but at lunch our topic
of conversation was the dance on Saturday, and where to go for our dinner. Kenny, Trent and Guthrie left it up to Lori, Kristen and me, though they offered
some suggestions. So-in my excitement about it all, and also my extra-excitement because it had almost been taken away by Brian-well, that made it
even more fun to talk about it. And, also easier to push thoughts of grades and classes away.
Lori wanted to try someplace new. Kristen, as usual, was quiet, and said it didn't matter to her where we ate at. Kenny asked me, and I said I would go along
with whatever everybody else wanted. Trent suggested that we go to the country club in Stockton, where his parents had a membership.
Sometimes I forget how wealthy Trent's folks are. They don't flaunt their money or anything, but they're definitely not poor ranchers.
"The steak there is really good," Trent said.
"Is it alright for all of us to go there?" Guthrie asked.
"Sure. I'll have my dad call ahead and make a reservation for all of us," Trent told him.
The three guys looked at us girls. "What do you think?" Guthrie asked Kristen.
"Is it really dressy there?" she asked.
"Well, yeah. No blue jeans or anything allowed," Trent said.
"We'll already be all dressed up anyway," Lori said. "Come on, it'll be fun."
So, we all agreed that's what we would do for supper. Just looking forward to Saturday night made me feel happier somehow.
7
Mr. Price caught me as class was being dismissed, and asked to talk to me. I immediately felt a pit in my stomach. This couldn't be good.
In all honesty, I had no reason at all to believe it would be anything positive. As the classroom cleared out of the other kids, I held my books
to my chest and went towards his desk, waiting in dread for him to say what it was.
"I won't keep you but just a minute or so, Harlie," Mr. Price said. "I wanted to visit with you about your grade in here."
I nodded, but found it hard to say anything.
"You started the school year strong," he said. "The first nine weeks you did fine. Just the occasional bump in the road." He peered at the grade book
on his desk for a long moment, and then turned it so that I could see the small squiggly numbers written there beside my name.
"Here's where things started to go south," he said, pointing. "Poor test scores, failed quizzes, and one-two missing homework assignments-"
The test and quizzes I'd known about, but the missing homework? I didn't remember not turning things in-
I told Mr. Price that, and he looked up what the missing assignments were and told me.
"Oh," I said, weakly, feeling embarrassed and as though I could sink thru the floor. This wasn't like last year when Miss George told me off
about my grade. She'd been rude and I didn't like her. This was different. I did like Mr. Price, and he was a good teacher. Also, he was being
so kind, not as though he was scolding me or anything.
Mr. Price leaned back in his chair and looked at me. "Is there anything in particular that's causing problems for you?" he asked, still kindly.
I nibbled at my lower lip. I didn't want to say that I just felt less motivated, or that I just wanted to enjoy myself more, and not worry
about school grades so much-or any of that. You can't say that to a teacher.
I pulled my standard answer from my magic hat. The statement that I had found worked on the occasional teacher talk, like now, and
even once in a great while, with Crane. "I guess I'd better start working harder," I said.
Mr. Price gave me a long look, and I got the feeling that he wasn't buying my easy answer.
"It's a tough class," he said. "But you were doing fine before this nine weeks, so I know you can do it."
"Yes, sir," I said, hoping he was going to let me go.
"This is the time to get a handle on it, Harlie," he cautioned me. I thought briefly that in that moment he sounded just like
Crane.
I nodded in response to his warning. "Okay."
"Progress reports are in another ten days or so," he said. Ah. Another warning.
In my head, I was saying, 'bat shit' but to Mr. Price I said, only, "Yes, sir," again.
"Alright, well I just want to give you the opportunity to turn things around."
A sudden thought occurred to me. "Is there extra credit work I could do?" I asked, hopefully. "To bring my grade up?"
"I don't usually allow that," Mr. Price said, and I felt my hopes fall.
For the first time, Mr. Price looked less kind and more stern. "Extra credit's not always the answer, Harlie. If you get back on track-then
you can finish the nine weeks strong."
"Alright. Thank you," I said. I wasn't sure just what I was thanking him for, exactly-but he had been mostly nice about it.
"You can go. Have a good rest of your day," he told me.
As if, I thought darkly to myself. But, all I said was, "Thank you," again, as I left his classroom.
7
I was subdued the rest of the school day. It was only another hour or so after my chat with Mr. Price that it was time for me to
head out to work. Once I got to Ivy's office, I changed into my work clothes, and started doing some of my regular work tasks. I was grooming
the horses that Ivy's boarding right now, when she came out to talk to me.
"Hullo," she greeted me with a smile. "I didn't see you when you got here."
"You were busy. Talking to Mrs. McClean. I didn't want to bother you," I said.
"You could never be a bother," she said, with another smile.
"How's Butch?" I asked her, speaking of Mrs. McClean's poodle.
"He's doing well after the surgery. All recuperated."
I nodded, and kept currying the bay horse.
Ivy grabbed another brush and began brushing the second horse. The paint.
"How's your day been?" she asked me.
"Okay," I said.
"School okay?" she asked.
I really, really like Ivy. I do. And, I don't mistrust her. It's just that, with Crane being the main authority in my life concerning anything school-related,
and with her and Crane being a couple, well...It might make Ivy uncomfortable if I asked her to not mention something in particular to Crane, or it
might slip out while they were talking-so it was just best if I avoided anything about school or the direness of my situation right now.
So, in a way, that made me feel a bit awkward and wary while I was talking to Ivy. And, I hated that part of it. Our conversations had always
been so free and easy. Almost as easy as when I talked to Clare.
So, in answer to her question, well, I didn't. Answer. Not exactly. I just told her about Saturday night, and how we were going to go to the
country club for dinner before the dance.
Ivy's eyes sparkled, and she seemed genuinely excited for me. She asked about the dress I was wearing, and shoes, and all of that. And, like she'd been
doing lately, ever since Adam had made his decree, Ivy sent me on my way home by 3:55 p.m.
She'd eyed the clock in the back, and finished putting up the shipment of medications, and said, "Five minutes till. Time for you to head out."
For some reason, that irritated me. I don't even know why. I mean, I could tell time just as well as she could. I suppressed it, though. I didn't
want to add to my problems by getting rude with Ivy. That would be horrible. She was so nice to me, and it wasn't her fault that Adam had
demanded that I leave so promptly every day...
I gathered up my bag of school clothes, said my goodbyes, and went on my way.
7
I drove home slowly, the radio cranked up, blaring some Reba McEntire. It always helps my mood to listen to Reba. Or to Dolly Parton.
I went over my conversation with Mr. Price in my mind. Even though I'd not had the best attitude lately about my school stuff, it didn't mean
that I wasn't feeling low about it all. Guilty about my deception of things to Crane. Or-if not open deception, then I for sure was guilty of
evasion of the truth of the matter.
I had eight days until progress reports came out, and there'd be no further evasion possible at that point. Crane, and everybody else at home,
would know it all.
The thought of it-it made me cringe and it felt as though I had a pit in my stomach. Knawing at me. I should just make a clean
breast of it to Crane. Now. Tonight. But-I'd only gotten Saturday night just given back to me...and it was hard to say what Crane
would say about that. He'd ground me until my grades were up. I knew that. But-I didn't want to miss Saturday night. It's almost as though
Saturday night was the high point of my life right now. Just the thought of possibly getting it taken away again made me feel sick.
There was, for sure, the possibility that Crane might not ground me from the dance and all, and ground me for after that, because he's
not unreasonable. And, he's kind. But, also, he wouldn't know the full extent of everything concerning my grades until the progress reports
came in the mail in a few days. If he did know, if I told him just how dire it was, well, then he might very well take Saturday night away.
So-I decided to keep quiet for now. I told myself that I would talk to Crane Sunday afternoon, when he was relaxed and all that. And, after,
the dinner and dance.
7