Cumnock School - Chronicle Yearbook (Los Angeles, CA)

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L I T E R A T U R E girl she had met in the hall that afternoon. Was Sophie coming to the meet- ing in the sitting room after dinner? Sophie blinked several times and almost choked in her haste to swallow the bread she was eating so that she might answer. Breathlessly Sophie said: Why-why l'd love meeting with the others after dinner. Where do I go? After Sophie had been told where the sitting room was she became si- lent. She felt that she was no longer a sharer in the conversation. lt seemed to her she would rather move around followed by her scolding step-mother than to be smothered here. She felt caged and confined. How ghastly! Here in this mocking, Smirking place she must stay while all of the world outside plunged itself headlong into the frolicking days of Christmas vacation. But she had made up her mind that although the conversations at home had never been shared with her, all of these new things were going to be. At last her first dinner came to an end. She had tried, even fought against letting herself slip within her own person. Yet the struggle was not half over. She must above all else become a part of this world. With the idea of this hope in mind, Sophie moved dejectedly down the hall. Her feet scarcely leaving the heavy plush that carpeted the floor, she half-heartedly made her way to the girl's sitting room. The door of the room was closed. As she stopped in front of the door, her head drooped slowly forward, until her chin rested on her hard and bony little chest, she swayed slightly. She couldn't do it! Co in that room and meet all of those strangers? l-ler heart was beating madly, fighting against being crushed. lt seemed to Sophie that all of the life in her body was pushing, forcing, trying to escape. Her tem- ples throbbed. Her head was bursting. That door, she must go through that door. Why were there always doors? She, Sophie, against the world of doors. Struggling, constantly struggling against that shutout feeling. Was it that this life was not hers? Could it be that she didn't belong? Why was she here? Nothing was for her, she was always shut out . . . shut out . . . As a person suddenly breaking away from the power of an awful nightmare, Sophie raised her thin hand and placed it on the strong, shiny knob-she turned it,-another door opened. Once inside the cheery little room Sophie felt almost at ease, but the groups of chattering girls seated in small circles looked very forbidding to her. The warmth of the bright wall paper only helped to emphasize the cold 85

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L I T E R A T U R E place, uncertain where to rest their frightened gaze. Sophie's shaky little frame was badly in need of a covering of warm padding, for blade-like bones jutted out between her narrow shoulders and her emaciated neck. From her pale brown leather shoes to her pathetic head Sophie measured five feet three. Muttering some words of recognition to their introduction, and trying to control her mirth, jessica turned quickly and walked rapidly to the sitting room. Once inside, with the door closed, she gave way to a gushing well of laughter. The girls, seeing her laughter-stricken face and her shaking sides, leaped from their chairs anxious to learn the cause of her hilarity. Between great spurts of laughter jessica managed to give the girls enough account of Sophie's appearance to send them into gales of laughter, equalling those of her own. As Sophie entered the dining room that night for dinner, she felt the prickle of the many eyes turned towards her, staring, looking straight through her unprotected being. There welled up within her an almost over-powering desire to cry aloud. She felt like a frightened bird just about to be swallowed up by a greedy cat. lf only she could turn and run from that brightly lighted room, with dancing eyes peering forth at herl But no. She could do noth- ing, for there was Miss Bates' kindly hand motioning her into a chair next to her own. Scarcely able to move, Sophie dazedly made her way to the table and sank miserably into the chair. All of her stepmother's final words of warning rang harshly in her ears, Don't sit and miope. Talk, talkl Say something. People will think you nothing but a dunce. You make people uncomfortable in your sticky presence. They feel a desire to shake you off. Your silence presses around them, driving them away. As far back as Sophie's miserable memory could recall, phrases such as these had been hurled at her. Across from her a mouth was wagging. What was it saying? Did she think she would enjoy school? Sophie knew the wagging mouth would expect some reply. Forcing herself to speak, she told the mouth she believed she would like school-there, she had been able to say something! She told herself that maybe her stepmother had been wrong. Maybe people did want to hear what she thought and felt. Oh, yes, she guessed she would have a piece of bread. The next voice addressing her came from her right side. This voice rolled smoothly, vibrated slightly, looking in the direction of the voice, Sophie faced a very lovely girl. It was that nice 84

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' L I T E R A T U R E aloof air of the girls. She realized with a pang of sadness that the girls had shared their remarks with her at dinner only because Miss Bates had been present. All of her determination to fit into this chattering group left her, and she was just turning to pass out through that dreaded door, which leered at her saying, Almost, but not quite. You thought you could pass by me and escape life! But the ghastly thing opened and Miss Bates, all warmth and smiles, entered the room. The girls hastily stood up. Sit down, girls. I just stepped in to tell you of an idea which came to me a little while ago. jessica darted forward, offered Miss Bates a chair, and seated herself on its arm. The other girls, being satisfied with jessica's last gesture, moved hurridly into seats around Miss Bates. To avoid the onslaught of the girls, Sophie melted back against the wall. Unnoticed she stood listening to Miss Bates. As you know, girls, it has always been our custom to do something for the poor at Christmas time, and this year I thought, that is, if you girls would like, we could fill baskets for them. Not waiting to hear any more, jessica haughtily announced, That is an excellent idea, but I think it would be a fine idea to elect a chairman who could appoint a committee or make arrangements, you know, a person who could guide the others in their tasks. The inevitable happened. All voices sang out, 'Yes, yes, a simply ducky idea, jessica. To jessica it was all settled. They would elect a chairman, she would be chairman. She was amazed, for from the expression in Miss Bates' eyes she could tell that it was not all settled. Girls, I would like you to think this idea over. Think who would make the best chairman, then tomorrow evening you may hold your election. Having nothing further to say, she went out. Could the world be going to end? There arose a great stir in the sitting room after Miss Bates' departure. Imagine thinking it over! Why there was no one but jessica for the job. Yet Miss Bates had actually walked out with- 86