Saint Ursula Academy - Scroll Yearbook (Toledo, OH)

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From Cousin Laura 6 WON'T argue about it, llother. I just won't go if I have to wear a made-over dress. She knew she wasn't being fair at all to Nlom, -and that lXfIom's allotment checks went just so far and no farther. But this time was too important to be fair. But Sue, it won't be a made-over dress. If only yould put it on, you'd see that it fits you perfectly, lt's exactly what you would choose and it must have cost at least . . . Here Rlonfs voice trailed off. She certainly was no expert on expensive formals. Sue could remember when she actu- allly looked forward to those big boxes. sent every so often by wealthy Eastern aunts. Every box contained the usual assortment of clothes: a few drab un- appealing dresses that Nlom would cut down to fit her own slender figure -and a bundle of Cousin Laura's things, the lace and ruffles still fresh and pretty. But now at sixteen, Sue loathed these boxes because they contained the bar- riers that held her from exciting shop- ping trips. True, they provided her with things to wear, but nothing she could call her own. She almost loathed Laura. the unseen cousin whose Hour- grownsu she had worn ever since she could remember. And now one of the bundles had arrived just in time to climax the disaster of the junior dance. As if things weren't bad enough. Darling, please try it on. Cousin Laura has your coloring, and this shade of blue is just right for you. I'll press it and hang it in your closet. l know how you feel. but of course youlll go to the party. That was the last strawl How could lylom know how she felt about this tall-important dance. If she did, she wouldn't try to make her wear that dress. She just wouldn't do it, and thatls all there was to it. Don't bother, Nlom. Put it any- Page Twenty-Iwo 0 where you want. But you can't expect me to go to any formal in some one elsels dress. Sue was sorry the min- ute she had spoken, sorry over that cold tone. sorry her mother didnyt know the whole story. But she walked away with the air of having given up her heart's desi1'e to a cruel tyrant. Of course. she'd already made up her mind not to go to the dance even be- fore the box came. Chris Larsen asked her weeks ago, before she could think of any excuse for refusing, and Chris was well known as an Uodd number . She'd probably be stuck with him all evening, her only hope of cut-ins being to wear a knockout new dress. She didn't even glance at Cousin Laura's Hold rag , hanging in her closet. And on Xlonday she began her explana- tion to the gang. Of all thingsfy she spoke out in the middle of her soda, it looks as if my father might get a furlough Satur- day. Natuually it's not definite, but l'd like to be there if he does. f'Really, Susie. you don't have to 'QYifil' 'O' 'I' '4 lf'4' ? O 'vlr1lfi l By Mary Pat Brunner make excuses for us, Golly, lid sure hate to be stuck with that big Swedefl That was her pal, Barbara, who could afford to be generous since she was go- ing with the class president. HOh, l don't mind about Chris, she said in a tone that implied that was just what she did mind. After all, Chris Larsonls folks were foreigners and nobody knew them. He was queer too, spoke perfect English, better than most kids. He seemed to be in good standing with the boys but never paid much attention to the girls.

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nw fl! . is yt U if ll Nt llaqj lf ' .ffl l f jiu lk lk ll! ! Lf fe' i !fT? fV ! ! ! P' ' i f ffE3e , .gzVf' all ' s ' 6437521 . fps Gia two pages of the text and hurriedly leafed through to the end, seeking- seeking-seeking . , . Gregory's mind whirled like a coun- try boy at a city dance: VVhat did l say last? . . . 'You dolts, you geese, you worse than little clods' . . . clods . . . clods . , . thatls hunks of mud . . . dry lllllil . . . wet mud . . . well. anyway. mud . . . most likely dry mud . . . wet mud would be wet . . , yes. dry mud . . . and then what? . . . Oh. this is awful . . . am I sweating! VVhat'll mother think! . . . VVhat will the old man think! What'll the people think! . , . lly arms are dead . . . if they only were not over my head . . . l canlt keep waving them much longer . . . theylre dead . . . but they had to be over my head for the next line pulled them down . . . Nliss Humphries said it was the most important gesture in the act . . . but do I pull the mud down over me? . . . that,s not it . . . what DOES come after the clods? . . . a broom. a vacuum sweeper . . . Oh! Oh!!! my left arm has sunk down. ltls numb , . . Oh, thank God, the curtain is down, and my arms are down, and l'm down-and l've got to live in this town all my life!!! . While this was going on in Gregory's mind, his mother sat in the fourth row, center, and slowly went down for the third time under the waters of despair as she watched the downfall of her child as a Thespian. She was calm and un- moved in appearance as if viewing ob- jectively the failure of a perfect stran- ger. But her mind was racing: Go on . . . go on . . . go . . . on! Emphasis? , . . lfmphasis doesnlt demand that long a pause . . . A pause? . . . Rather an intermission. VVe could go home and return in this time . . . He's forgotten . . . he's forgotten . . , lvhy not be truthful with myself? . . . He just hasn't got it . . . Those love scenes . . . Ligh! . , . wooden as a hobby-horse . . . just like his father . . . all the fervor and Ere of a cook book . . . lf he keeps waving those arms any longer l'll scream . . . Uh! the audience is begin- ning to laugh! Somehow l must smile . . . grin . . , grimace . . . Oh! one of his arms fell . . . like a log . . . hels exhausted . . . Oh! there goes the cur- tain . , . Thank God! Thank God! . . . l'll have Greg fire that Humphries hag . . , hre her. . . Ere he1'! . . . fire her!! . . . fire her!!!!! ln the wings, Bliss Humphries lia- bored over the Christian slave. trying to improve her makeup so that the audi- ence would not abandon completely all belief in the pull of Christianity, VVhen Gregory forgot his lines, Kliss Hum- phries couldnlt move. For the life of her she could not move. She stood with a rabbit's foot dripping red powder, one arm firmly holding the Christian slave. Go on . . . go on . . . 'You think to pit the might of Rome against the power of the mind' . . . go on , . . go on . . . Prompt hi1n! Prompt him! . . . yell it at him . . . walk on stage and put it in his hand to read . . , Oh, the prompter has lost the place . . . look at the goose , . . leafing. . . leahng . . . leafing . . . Find it, you loon, find it . . . don't let him stand there . . , Oh, his arm is wavering . . . it's down . . . he's going to faint . . . Oh, whv did l ever pick him , . . just because his father is Pres- ident of the Board of lfducation . . . Ring down the curtain . . . the cur- tain!! . . . Oh, thank God. the curtain is down!!! The Spring Festival of the Fairchild High School was over. Inge Twenty-one

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She knew she was going to break the date with Chris, and the sooner, the better. She caught him Thursday on his way to the art room. He was quite good in arty he had even sold some of his works. 'iChris, hey, Chris, wait a minute! I want to talk to you about something importantf' Hello, Suelll He turned and waited for her. Come into the art room with me. I want to get the key to the supply room before Sister leaves. Sue had to move quickly to keep up with the tall boy. HGoodness, Chris, what I have to say won't take long-, but somehow she couldnlt be curt with him. I know, but I've been wanting to talk with youd' She tried to break in but he went right on talking. I think it would be nice if we could get acquainted better before we go out Saturday. I wanted to take you for a soda and to meet my parents. but some- how I never could find you. You bet he never had a chance to nnd me, she said to herself. And what was this funny thing Hmeet my parentsn? VVell, she didnlt want to meet his parents and sheld tell him so right now. But would she? He was odd all right--if a nice odd. Sue fol- lowed him into the art room. Chris, I want to tell you about Sat- urday night. Golly, this was going to be hard. He held his brush in mid-air and was looking at her intently. He was odd, not at all like other boys. Older. somehow, Sue realized she wasn't talking-just st-aring. Chris broke the awkward pause. And I want to tell you about Satur- day. I'm glad I'm going with you. Sue. I had a hard time trying to bring myself to ask youf' He reddened a little. The boys she knew never would have talked like that. But none of the boys she knew had been born in a for- eign country -and had gone to school in :mother country or could paint or work or were quite like Chris. 'iThere's one thing, though, Sue. Riost of the boys are wearing tuxedos. I haven't any. But my father is happy to let me wear his good blue suit. Do you mind if itls a blue suit of my fa- ther's ? Of course, I don't mind. I donlt mind a bit. She knew what she'd done and couldn't help,it. 'lI'm glad. And another thing. You must tell me what kind of flowers to send you. In my father's country, a young man always sent Howers to the girl he was taking to a dance. Nly' father told me about the flowers-to send them, I meanfl Sue was silent for a minute. Nobody sends flowers to girls for this kind of dance, but she didn't tell him that. His father might be hurt if he didn't take his advice. and Sue knew how it was to hurt a parent. Besides, Chris was terribly proud. No, it wouldnlt do to tell him. It was so unimportant some- how. Sue slid from the stool, moved closer to watch him work. She touched his arm timidly a11d started for the door. Quickly, she turned back to the boy who was watching her, We'll have a lot of fun Saturday, Chris. And about that suit thing- you know most of the boys borrow tuxes from their fathers or older broth- ers. lXIy dress is sort of borrowed too!-it belonged to my cousin back East. Nobody thinks about things like that anymore. And as she waved good-bye, Sue suddenly knew it was true. Ki if ,ly fi I ,ig rmx ., g il s,:ff. is -1 ,, fill Q W 'ex af- ers, vff4,am2f' , 1 , 'f -12.343 +212 1 , ff- ,fa -ff I Q 6 Q L Q. . E if -. fs ik: i :rg - - iff,--v'g11'3',