I slept not so well that night, and woke up with a feeling of dread hanging over me. It was after breakfast, and Hannah caught me as I was
leaving the kitchen. She wrapped her arm around my waist, and leaned in close to my ear.
"I'm going to pray for you today," she said.
"Thanks," I told her. "I'll need it."
In the living room, I was gathering my backpack, when Crane came down the stairs.
He walked over to me, and said, "Which did you decide on? Family Finance or Home Economics?"
I shrugged. I had honestly been going to wait until I got to school to decide at the last moment.
"It doesn't really matter, I guess," I said, dully.
"It does matter. Your attitude matters," he said.
Adam had walked into the room, coming from the kitchen, still carrying a cup of coffee. He paused nearby to listen. I assumed it
was to listen.
"I guess Home Economics," I said. Lori was in that class, so at least I'd have a friend in there to talk to.
"Okay. That's good," Crane said.
I didn't see anything good about it, but it wasn't going to get me on the way to school quicker if I said that.
So, instead, I slung my bag over my shoulder, and said, "I guess."
"Harlie. Come on," Crane said, sounding short. "It's not going to help anything by going in having that attitude."
Quick tears sprung to my eyes. "I was agreeing with you," I protested. "You're picking on me, Crane."
I'd surprised him. I could see that.
"I'm not trying to seem as though I'm picking on you," Crane said.
"It feels as though you are," I persisted.
"Alright. I'm sorry if it seems that way," he said.
Now, I was the one who was surprised. By a couple of things. By the fact that Adam had stayed quiet during Crane and I's exchange.
By the fact that Crane was apologizing for how I felt he was treating me. I hardly ever found that tears or weepiness worked with
my brothers. I hadn't been pretending at my emotions, but I still filed my tiny success away in my mind. I would have to remember
that I could stop a lecture occasionally with hurt feelings.
"Okay. Well, bye," I said, in a general way, and headed outside.
Adam followed, taking his spot on the porch, against one of the porch columns, to say his morning goodbye to Guthrie and I.
Guthrie was coming from the barn, and Adam spoke quietly to me, "The ball's in your court now, sugar. It's up to you how it
plays out."
In other words, in Adam-speak, what he meant was-get it together, and have a better attitude, and don't go around
boo-hooing all the time.
"Okay," I said, in answer. What else could I say?
7
When I got to school, I had to go to the office. Mr. Best had told me last week to come in to see him, and let him and Mrs. Wilson
know which class I was choosing to be in. I already knew that I would have a study hall for one of the two hours.
I entered the office with less than enthusiasm. Mrs. Wilson greeted me with her usual business like way.
"Good morning, Harlie. I'll tell Mr. Best you're here."
When Mr. Best stepped to the door of his office, he motioned for me to come into his office. I had no fondness for it, remembering the
last time I'd been in here, and he'd told me I was out of the program.
I chose to stand, not bothering to sit.
"Have a seat, Harlie," he said, gesturing to a chair.
"No, thank you," I said.
"Well, what class have you decided on?" he asked me, sitting at his own desk, and sifting thru some papers.
"Home Ec."
"Alright. I'll let Mrs. Baker know to expect you," he said.
I nodded, and he said, "I'm sure you'll do fine."
I wasn't sure what he thought I was going to do fine at, but I didn't really care.
I turned to go without saying goodbye or thank you or anything else that resembled good manners.
7
At lunch I picked at my food, and was mostly silent, even though the group at the table, Lori and Kenny and including Guthrie, all tried
to enter me into the conversations. Kristen was quiet, too, though as we were gathering our trash to throw it away, she
said something about how kind Crane had been to her when she'd been over to the house on the weekend.
"He always knows what to say," she told me. "No matter what's going on, he knows what to say."
"Uh huh," I said, vaguely.
"He gives the best advice," Kristen went on. "You're so lucky, Harlie."
This isn't the first time or even the second that Kristen has said this. I know how she feels about Crane. And, most of the time,
I agree with her about Crane. Right at this particular moment, though, I wasn't feeling all that warm and fuzzy about him.
"Yeah," I said. "Lucky. That's me."
Kristen paused and gave me a puzzled look. "What's wrong?"
"If he was your brother, you might not feel that way," I said, not nicely.
Even more puzzled looking, Kristen said, "What?"
"He's always on me about my grades, and it gets really annoying," I said.
For a moment Kristen was quiet, as though she was thinking over what I'd said.
"I guess I don't know what that's like," she said. And, even though I knew she didn't mean it in a bad way, I still felt
irritated.
"Exactly," I said, pointedly.
Kristen sort of blinked at me, and even looked hurt. Guthrie had walked up to hear the last, and said, "What's goin' on?"
Kristen looked towards him, and then away. "Nothing," she said. "I need to get my books for the next class."
She walked towards the school, her posture sort of dejected.
Guthrie was staring at me. "What the hell," he said.
Now Kenny was standing there, too, just to my right.
"What are you sayin' to her?" Guthrie demanded.
"We were just talking," I said.
"She's upset, though. What'd you say?" he insisted.
"It's none of your business, Guthrie," I said.
Now Guthrie was looking at me in surprise just like Kristen had.
"It's not," I said.
"Gosh dang, Harlie," Guthrie said, sounding mad. He gave me another pointed look, nearly a glare, and then he stomped off to
catch up to Kristen.
I turned to find Kenny eyeing me, as well. He was quiet, but I could tell he was wondering what the heck was going on
with me. He probably thought I'd gone off my trolley, too.
"You, too, huh?" I said, and flung my trash into the blue trash can nearby.
"Not me, Harlie," he said, and took my hand.
I was suddenly very grateful for Kenny. "Thanks," I said.
An hour later, at the time of day when I usually left for Ivy's, I was walking instead with Lori, to the Home Economics room, which is
upstairs.
"It's not a bad class," Lori was telling me. "Sometimes on Fridays Mrs. Baker lets us just bake brownies and sit around and talk
all hour."
"That sounds alright," I said. When we walked into the classroom, there were a couple of other girls there already, freshmen, I thought.
Mrs. Baker turned from where she was putting towels into a drawer in the kitchen area.
"Hello," she said. "Harlie, come and see me for a moment, please."
Lori went to find a chair and I went over to where Mrs. Baker was. "How are you today?" she asked me. One of those questions that
adults ask that is just to make conversation.
"Fine."
"Well, it's good to have you here," she went on. "I have a book for you." She went to her desk, and I followed behind her. She sifted thru
things, and then handed me a textbook. Titled Home Economics Education.
"You can sit wherever you like," Mrs. Baker said, and smiled at me.
By now there were more girls in the classroom, filling up the chairs at the circle tables. There were a mixture of freshmen to seniors.
I went to sit down beside Lori, who'd been guarding a chair for me.
The lesson began on the topic of grocery shopping. It turned into a discussion and then into stories from some of the girls about
humorous grocery store trips with their grandmothers or little sisters and brothers.
When we left the classroom to go back downstairs for the last class of the day, which was study hall for me, I was actually thinking
that maybe Home Ec wasn't going to be so unbearable. Nobody had said anything to me as yet about why I was still at school, or not in the
work program, or anything.
Maybe I'd been wrong about kids saying things about it. Maybe nobody would even notice. Or care.
I was wrong about that, though. And, I found that out when I went into study hall.
7