Schooling (33 page)
at the slightest provocation. It will roll off to land in the gutter or on a doily. I watch my wrist the line it forms with my thumb and pen. Watch as I ratchet my shoelaces to keep my feet attached to their ankles tighten my moneybelt to keep my halves together. This collection of spares. But the tunic the kickpleat the outline suggest a plan for harmony. You led me outside the pacing stopped. Vicar looked at me finally he understood. You smiled at everyone because it was a Misunderstanding. Giddy leaned in a doorframe she wouldn’t look at me but told Butcher to come by later and she’d show her the crocus. Butcher said have you had your good-bye yes you said yes we’ve said good-bye. At some point crossing the parlor and out the door you managed to smooth your hair so as not to appear untidy. The Amateur Botanist said it will all be over soon and you said you only had the girl’s best interests at heart. He wouldn’t answer he wanted to help me into my coat he wanted to take my little case we all take up so much room in the corridor coatrack overflowing with all the company. No hard feelings you said your hand out to him he shook it without looking at you wouldn’t look at me so I watched your hand on the doorknob behind you turning white as you gripped it camouflaging your scar. I am trying to tell you one thing I am trying to tell you well what if that night the night of the moth the night you sat on the bed the night you closed the door forever what if well. Couldn’t we have ourselves back. Why did we. I wish we had never stopped for chips I wish the sunset had been pink and light not purple not red I wish it had never led you to Fauvism. He took me out to his car his hand still on my shoulder I wouldn’t take my eyes off you no matter how impolite it was when Vicar and Mrs. Ingle were saying good-bye. You said how long have you been driving this machine Patrick it’s not the one we see you with at school. Oh this I use for scaring around the countryside. It was his triumph we knew it would be. The one he drives toward Araigny to ask for her hand. I got in the car I still had Father’s bag strapped around me I wouldn’t wear my coat what was the point I opened the door I looked back and saw you off to one side Giddy in the cautious doorway so as not to let in the draft you held one arm crooked in the other a breeze disturbed your hair my knees buckled I wanted to be strong I wanted to be thewy God help me have thews I ran back up the steps I pulled open my bag you looked confused I took the pear by mistake my thumb cut the soft skin left some meat under my nail I pushed it aside to find what I wanted the driver climbing out to pull us apart I was aware the expression I had was severe my eyebrows drawn up as if you were going over the edge of a cliff I was throwing you a rope but all I had was the handkerchief I balled it into your palm you took it you knew what it was you said You Know I said Yes or maybe I only thought it but I meant to say it I meant to say Yes you are my one hundred. Pick up the fruit and nut the purple foil because you like to have something to squeeze. There were penguins from a machine. And you had them again the day of the mudscape. He had machines explode on him in bus stations but he protected you. He said you are a wild beast you have a talent for color and off color. You said this isn’t much of a landscape where’s the green and he tried to show you some. You couldn’t find it which might make you a cynic. I’m sorry I’m sorry. I would find it today I would find it now. He wrapped his arms around you he lifted you up he lifted you up he said One muddle doesn’t mean betrayal. He made it alright to cry. But was it only a road to moquette. Betts interrupts wants a Penny for them. You say They’re worth so much more than that. Well I’ve only got a fiver. Not even for that. We’ll be there soon he says too bad we’ve run out of chocolates but you’re off again leaving traveling in the opposite direction with the volvo the peugeot the honda a truck. He says Your father but you aren’t listening.
Heather McGowan
SCHOOLING
Heather McGowan’s play
The Return of Smith
was staged at Lincoln Center’s Living Room series in 1997. She lives in Providence, Rhode Island.
FIRST VINTAGE CONTEMPORARIES EDITION, JUNE 2002
Copyright © 2001 by Heather McGowan
Vintage is a registered trademark and Vintage Contemporaries and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
The Library of Congress has cataloged the Doubleday edition as follows:
McGowan, Heather.
Schooling/Heather McGowan.—1st ed.
p. cm.
1. Teenage girls—Fiction. 2. Boarding schools—Fiction. 3. Mothers—Death—Fiction.
4. Americans—England—Fiction. 5. Teacher-student relationships—Fiction.
6. England—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3563.C36495 S36 2001
813’6—dc21 00-047452
eISBN: 978-0-307-42763-2
v3.0