A Dream for Addie (12 page)

“That's right!” he said with an air of finality.

“My gosh!” I said. “We're the only people in this whole town without a telephone. We're living in the eighteenth century! It's a miracle we have indoor plumbing around here!”

“You just be thankful we do,” said Dad. “I sure didn't have it when I was a boy!”

“Well, this is 1949!” I said, exasperated. “The telephone is a miracle of modern communication, and we should participate in it!”

“You can put in a miracle whenever you can pay for it,” he said.

Money was usually the end of every conversation with Dad. Our house was comfortable, but very plain, and there wasn't an object in it that could have been referred to as a luxury.

Suddenly I had an idea how to get the conversation rerouted toward Irene again.

“Speaking of money,” I said. “I gotta have a new dress and a pair of high heels for the Valentine's Dance next week.”

“What?” said Dad, sounding shocked. “High heels? You don't wear high heels!”

“Well, I'm going to!” I said. “The girls are all going to get them for this dance … it'll be the inauguration for all of us.”

“Inauguration?” he said.

“For wearing high heels the first time!”

“You're too young for that!” he said.

“I am not! I'm thirteen! I can't go to the dance looking like a five-year-old!”

“She's right, James,” said Grandma. “I talked to Mrs. Carter the other day, and she said Carla Mae and all the girls are going to wear their first high heels to the dance.”

“See?” I said to him. “And I need a new party dress.”

“Oh, boy,” he said. “There goes another twenty dollars.”

“Well, I'm not going looking like an eighteenth century farm maid, even if they did do that when you were a boy.”

He glared at me. “I was born in the twentieth century, too, you know,” he said.

Then I moved in with my idea.

“And I ought to get a permanent, too,” I said, watching Dad closely.

“A permanent!” he said, giving me a sharp look. “Since when did you ever need a permanent? You've never had one in your life—haven't been able to drag you near a beauty parlor for thirteen years!”

“That was when I was little!” I said.

“She oughta have one if she's goin' to the dance in a fancy dress and high heels,” said Grandma.

“Yeah,” I said, warming up to the idea. “I can't go in pigtails! It's not sophisticated.” That was a bonus I hadn't even thought of. A permanent would make me look older.

“Sophisticated!” he snorted. “Huh! Don't know why anybody who spends half her time playing baseball and basketball would worry about being sophisticated!”

“I don't do that!” I said. In fact, I always had played baseball and basketball and every other sport available. But recently most of the girls had begun to lose interest for some reason, and my only choice was to give it up or play with the boys and take the teasing that went with it.

“Every other girl in our class got a permanent centuries ago,” I went on. “Carla Mae gets one every year. Think of all the money I've been saving you for thirteen years.”

“You don't have to do it just because everyone else does,” he said. “Grandma can curl your hair with the curling iron. She always did when you were little.”

“Oh, that won't do,” said Grandma, smiling. “She wants to look her best for Billy.”

“Oh, my gosh! I told you I don't even like him!”

“Did he invite you to the dance?” she asked.

“No,” I said, sounding disgusted, “but he's going to. I suppose I'll have to go with him too; there's nobody else worth going with in that dumb bunch.”

“Well, you'd better make an appointment for your permanent pretty soon,” said Grandma.

“Yeah,” I said casually, watching Dad out of the corner of my eye. “I'll go see Irene Davis tomorrow.”

“Irene Davis?” said Dad, looking at Grandma. “I thought Grandma always went to Mrs. Jacobsen.”

“Oh, she does all the older ladies' hair,” I said. “Irene is more stylish. All the girls go to her.”

Grandma was looking over at me to see if I was up to something. She was almost always able to tell, but I kept an absolutely straight face and didn't let on a thing. She could usually read my mind, but this time she wasn't quite sure. However, I could see that she was all for the idea of my going to see Irene.

She smiled. “You better get your appointment tomorrow, Addie,” she said, “before Irene gets busy with the other girls.”

“Right,” I said. “I'll do that.”

Grandma looked very pleased, and Dad looked more uncomfortable than ever.

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About the Author

Gail Rock grew up in Valley, Nebraska. After receiving a BA in fine arts from the University of Nebraska, she moved to New York and began a career in journalism. She has worked as a film and TV critic and has done freelance writing for newspapers and magazines.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 1975 by Gail Rock

Cover design by Kelly Parr

ISBN: 978-1-4976-7383-0

This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

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