Deenie (11 page)

Before I could say anything Aunt Rae told her, "She's sick. She's got scoliosis."

"I'm
not
sick," I told Aunt Rae.

But Aunt Rae and the saleslady looked at each other as if to say I didn't know the truth and they did.

Meantime, Ma went through the racks pulling out things for me to try on. Size was a problem because the brace takes up a lot of room and everything I put on looked terrible. Besides, Ma and Aunt Rae were both talking non-stop about what kinds of clothes would hide the brace and pretty soon I did start to feel sick.

The saleslady kept taking things away and bringing them back in different sizes and after an hour of the same thing I couldn't stand it anymore so I said, "I don't want anything new. I like what I've got."

"But what you've got doesn't fit, Deenie," Ma said.

"So I'll wear Helen's old clothes. Just let's go home."

"We're all trying to help you," Ma said. "But if you won't help yourself there isn't much we can do."

"I just don't want to try any more on, that's all."

Aunt Rae rushed back into the dressing room. "I've found it," she told me. "The perfect dress." Then, for no reason at all, she turned to the saleslady and said, "Deenie's going to be a model, you know. Doesn't she have the most beautiful face?"

"Please Aunt Rae! I can't be a model now. You know that."

"Of course you can. Where there's a will, there's a way. I'll think of something. Here … try this on." She handed me the dress. "The high neck will hide the brace."

"I don't like it," I said, looking at the white ruffles on the sleeves. "It's too babyish."

"Try it anyway," Ma said.

"No!"

"Deenie, you're being stubborn!" Ma said.

"I'm old enough to choose my own things. Don't you think I know what I like by now?"

The saleslady was shaking her head and listening to every word. I wanted to yell at her—to tell her to mind her own business and get lost.

I got back into my things and told Ma, "I'm going to the Ladies' Room."

Aunt Rae followed me there. "You know Deenie, your mother would do anything for you. She's trying to make you feel better. It's not her fault this happened."

"Well, it's not my fault either."

Aunt Rae didn't answer that.

"It's not!" I said again. "There isn't anything that anyone could have done about it. And if you don't believe me just ask the doctor!"

On Sunday night we were sitting around in the living room. Me and Ma were watching the end of "The F.B.I." and Helen and Daddy were reading the papers. When the show was over I said, "I'm not going to school tomorrow so can I stay up for the Sunday night movie?"

"Why aren't you going to school?" Ma asked.

"Because I'm not ready yet. I need more time to get used to wearing this thing."

"I guess one more day won't matter," Ma told me.

But Daddy said, "Deenie's going to school, same as always." He didn't even look up from the paper.

"But Frank," Ma said, "if she isn't ready … "

Daddy didn't let her finish. "She isn't going to get any more ready sitting around the house feeling sorry for herself."

"I'm not feeling sorry for myself!" I shouted, jumping to my feet.

Daddy looked up. "Good … then there's no reason for you not to go to school."

"Even if I'm sick?"

"You're not sick."

"I think I'm coming down with something."

"Frank," Ma said, "maybe it's the flu."

"It's not the flu," Daddy told her, "and Deenie is going to school and that's that!"

"I never heard anything so mean!" I shouted.

"It's for your own good, Deenie." Daddy stood up and reached for my hand but I pulled away and wouldn't let him touch me.

Fifteen

On Monday morning I wore one of the smock shirts Ma bought for me on Saturday. Even though I told her I wasn't ever going to put on that stuff I was glad to have it.

"Hi," Midge said when I got to the bus stop. "I wasn't sure you'd be coming. "

"I had no choice," I told her.

As soon as we got on the bus some lady asked me if I had been in a car accident. And later, when we were getting off at school, this boy I never saw before asked me what was wrong with my neck. I told them both the truth, that I have scoliosis and would have to wear a Milwaukee Brace for four years to straighten out my spine. Neither one paid much attention to what I was saying. If they weren't interested why did they ask me in the first place?

At school it was worse. Everybody wanted to know what was wrong including my homeroom teacher who called me up to her desk and all the time I was explaining my condition to her she was patting me on the back.

Susan Minton practically glued herself to my desk and wouldn't leave until I told her the whole story. Then she said, "Well, if I can do anything for you, anything at all, I'd be really happy to. I could carry your books around or help you up and down the stairs … "

I told her I didn't need any help and that I was just the same as before but I could see she didn't believe me. When the bell rang Miss Greenleaf told her to sit down at her own desk. Before she did Susan said, "I think your haircut is terrific. I'm going to cut mine the same way," which proved to me that Susan Minton is as stupid as I've always thought.

I waited in homeroom until everyone else had left for their first-period class because I didn't want to risk passing Buddy Brader in the hall. On Mondays and Wednesdays I have sewing first period, which is a terrible way to start the day. My sewing teacher, Miss Wabash, is about one hundred years old and very mean. She doesn't like me because I don't know anything about sewing. I wouldn't take it except the girls have no choice in seventh grade. We're required to have one semester of sewing and another of cooking. At least the cooking teacher is nice. Janet has cooking this semester and she says they have a lot of fun. When they clean up they always pretend they're doing a cleanser commercial for TV.

Midge is in my sewing class. We fooled around a lot the first week of school so Miss Wabash separated us. Now Midge's machine is right in front of Miss Wabash's desk and mine is all the way across the room.

The minute I sat down at my sewing machine I remembered that we were supposed to buy our patterns and material over the weekend. As Miss Wabash called the roll each of us had to go up to her desk to show her what we had selected. It had to be either a skirt or a jumper. I hoped that Miss Wabash would understand why I forgot to get mine.

"Wilmadeene Fenner … " Miss Wasbash called.

Practically all my teachers call me Deenie by now, but not Miss Wabash. She refuses because she says we have to get used to our given names. Midge found out that Miss Wabash's first name is Matilda. I'd love to call her that. It really suits her.

As I stood up I could feel everyone in the class staring at me. I went to Miss Wabash's desk and told her, "I don't have my pattern or material yet."

Miss Wabash didn't look at me. She seemed to be concentrating on something on her desk.

"What is the reason?" she asked.

"I was busy all weekend."

"Doing what, may I ask?"

She still didn't look at me. I don't think she knew I was wearing my brace. Either that or she thought I always wore one.

I told her, "I was busy getting my Milwaukee Brace."

"Do you think that is a valid excuse?"

"I don't know," I whispered.

"I do not think that is a valid excuse," she said. "Therefore I will have to give you a zero in this assignment. If you have your pattern and material on Wednesday morning I will erase the zero and give you a fifty. Do you understand, Wilmadeene?"

"Yes, Miss Wabash."

"Good. Today you will practice seams on your muslin while the other girls cut their patterns. You may sit down now."

I wanted to run out of the room. I looked at Midge and knew she was embarrassed for me. I sat down at my machine and sewed the most crooked seams I ever saw. More crooked than my spine because I couldn't bend over to see what I was doing.

Second period I have math and right after Miss Varnicka put our problems on the board she came over to my desk to see if she could help. "I think you'd be more comfortable standing at a lectern," she said. "If you'd like to give it a try I'll ask the custodian to bring one from the auditorium."

"I don't think so," I said. I could just picture myself standing in the corner at a lectern while everyone watched.

"Well," Miss Varnicka said, "then how about if you move your chair way back and lean forward with your body … that way you'd be able to see what you're doing."

"I'll try," I said. I pushed my chair way back, then leaned over my desk, and it worked! I could see what I was doing again. It wasn't exactly comfortable and the kid behind me had to move his desk too, but it was better than before and much much better than standing alone at a lectern.

All morning I kept wondering what Buddy Brader would think when he saw me. Once he told me that he likes girls with long hair and that mine was just perfect. I won't be able to shake it at him anymore. Why didn't I think of that on Friday?

I was in the cafeteria, on the hot lunch line, when Buddy spotted me. He came right over and pushed in. The girl behind him yelled, "Hey … " But Buddy just said, "Hey yourself!" and he didn't move.

Then he looked at me and said, "I heard all about your spine."

"Who told you?"

"A lot of kids."

"I guess practically everyone knows."

"Yeah, I guess so. Now I know what you meant when you said you had a lot on your mind. Does it hurt?"

"No, it's just a little uncomfortable."

"You can take that thing off sometimes, can't you?"

"I'm supposed to wear it all the time," I told him. "Except for swimming."

"You even have to sleep in it?"

"Yes," I kind of smiled then, to show how brave I am.

The lady behind the lunch counter called, "Move along kids."

"No gravy," I told her, but she dumped a quart of it on my meat anyway.

Buddy said, "No gravy," too and she didn't pay any attention to him either. But as she went to put the gravy on his plate he moved it away and the gravy landed on the counter. "That's what you should do," Buddy told me. "Otherwise you'll always wind up with it."

The line was moving faster and I grabbed a roll and some Jell-O.

"I'm playing drums at the seventh-grade mixer," Buddy said. "You going?"

I was trying to dig out my lunch money to pay the cashier but I was having trouble holding my tray and getting into my pocketbook at the same time. "I don't know if I'm going," I said to Buddy. I had to put my tray down so I could pay.

"You should go," Buddy said. We walked across the cafeteria to where I always sit.

"Maybe," I told him.

"You never heard me play drums."

"I know," I said.

"I'm good."

"Well, maybe I will go … it all depends … "

"You should go."

"Well, I probably will." We were at my table and Midge was already there, peeling her eggs.

Buddy put his tray down and for a minute I wondered if he was going to eat with me instead of with his friends. He's never done that. But he didn't sit down. He reached over and put his hand on my head, kind of the way you'd pet a dog. "You shouldn't have cut your hair," he told me. "It was nice long."

I looked at Midge and she started choking on her eggs. She got up and ran to the fountain. "I had to cut it," I told Buddy, " … because of the brace."

"I didn't know that," he said. "It'll grow again, won't it?"

"Sure," I said. "I think hair grows almost an inch a month or something like that."

"Listen," Buddy said, "I've got to eat my lunch now. Don't forget the mixer … I've got a solo and all."

"I won't forget."

He finally took his hand off my hair. I may never shampoo it again.

Sixteen

That afternoon, when I got back to homeroom, Miss Greenleaf told me that Mrs. Anderson, the Vice-Principal, wanted to see me after school. I couldn't imagine what I had done wrong but I knew it must have been something important to get called to the office.

I grabbed my books and sweater and went downstairs. There were three boys sitting on the bench outside Mrs. Anderson's office and as I walked by they made noises at me. I tried to ignore them as I knocked on her door.

"Come in," Mrs. Anderson called.

I opened the door. Mrs. Anderson was smiling. I've heard she always does, even when she's punishing kids. Her desk was in front of a big window but she sat with her back to it so she couldn't see the pigeon standing on the ledge. Ma says pigeons are dirty birds with lots of germs and I should stay away from them.

"Deenie Fenner?" Mrs. Anderson asked.