Debutante Hill (10 page)

“I don't have a sewing machine,” Anne said, “but I made the curtains and slipcovers in Home Economics class. You should have seen me lugging those darned slipcovers back and forth on the school bus! I had to fit them almost every night, to make sure I was doing them right.”

“You mean you made the sofa cover yourself?” Lynn exclaimed. “Why, Anne, you're a positive genius! I never knew anybody before who could make slipcovers. And those water colors are charming. Where did you ever find them?”

“I painted them,” Anne told her simply.

“You painted them yourself!” Crossing the room, Lynn stood gazing at the pictures with a critical eye. “They're wonderful, so gay and full of life! I've always loved to draw, but I could never do anything like these. Why on earth aren't you in the Art Club?”

“I would be but—” Anne shook her head. “Oh, you know as well as I do that the Art Club belongs to the Hill crowd. It's more a social club than one devoted to art, isn't it?”.

Lynn nodded. “I suppose it is, really,” she admitted slowly. “I never thought of it that way before, but it
is
pretty much all the crowd from the Hill. That shouldn't make any difference, though, Anne. Not one of them can paint like this.”

“It does make a difference, just the same,” Anne said. “You know it does. I could go in there with my little paintings, and everybody would say, ‘Aren't they clever?' and I'd still be just as much out of things as ever.”

She spoke with no bitterness. Anne seemed to be a person incapable of bitterness. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned into the little hall. “Come on, I'll show you where we'll be sleeping tonight. You can unpack your things.”

Lynn followed her through the hall into a tiny room. It was not really meant to be a bedroom—it was more like a pantry or a snug storeroom—but there was a bed in it, and Anne's deft touch had made it into a dainty little boudoir. The one small window was bordered with fluffy white material and the walls were painted pale blue. There was a checkered blue and white spread on the bed and a little gray chest of drawers with a mirror over it against the other wall.

“Not even room for a chair.” Anne apologized, laughing, “but I guess we can sit on the bed. Dad and Dirk share the bedroom. They're never in it at the same time, though, because of Dad's working the night shift. Which reminds me, I'd better get his dinner ready. He goes to work at six.”

She left Lynn to unpack her pajamas and other overnight things and lay them out on the bed.

Alone, Lynn glanced around the tiny room, wondering how Anne had managed to make such a charming place for herself out of what was no more than a cell. On the walls were more of the attractive water colors but these were softer scenes, little landscapes in blues and greens and golds. Lynn examined them more closely, her admiration growing.

I'd love to have some like these for my own room, she thought, but I don't know how to ask for them. Of course, I'd want to pay Anne for her work, and yet it would be awkward to offer her money.

She turned to follow her hostess out to the kitchen.

In the hall, she encountered Anne's father, emerging from the bedroom. He was a short, stocky man, with faded blue eyes and a heavy way of moving. Lynn quickly introduced herself, thinking that Anne and Dirk must both take their looks from their mother, for there was nothing of Mr. Masters in either of them.

Then, to her surprise, he smiled at her, and it was Anne's sweet smile that flashed from his weathered face.

“Lynn Chambers, huh? Well, I'm glad to meet you, Lynn. It's good to have Anne bringing her friends home with her. I wish that boy would do the same, but he seems to prefer to meet his pals on street corners.”

He went on down the hallway and Lynn joined Anne in the kitchen. She stood as close to the wall as possible, trying not to get in the way as the other girl moved deftly about in the small space, preparing dinner.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Yes,” Anne said, “you can fix the salad. The greens are wrapped in a towel in the refrigerator.”

Lynn opened the refrigerator door and took out the damp towel which held the salad ingredients, trying not to look surprised at how empty the refrigerator was. The Chambers' refrigerator was always overloaded with food for snacking—apples and plums and ice cream and Cokes and all manner of other things. Rosalie saw to that. The Masters' refrigerator contained the basic necessities—milk, eggs, margarine, some bacon and cheese—and a few covered jars.

Lynn shut the door and laid the salad greens on the counter.

While she cut up tomatoes and lettuce for a salad, she noticed how quickly and efficiently Anne went about her chores, putting peas on to cook, brewing tea, frying hamburgers. The meal seemed to fly together at her touch.

“Do you always do the cooking?” Lynn asked, greatly impressed.

“Almost always,” Anne said, flipping the hamburgers onto the plate. “We eat sort of oddly because of Dad's working hours. He goes to work at six, so we have an early dinner. He gets off at two in the morning, so I leave a supper ready in the refrigerator for him to eat then. He's always asleep when Dirk and I get up, so we eat breakfast and leave the dishes for Dad to do when he wakes. He fixes himself a
lunch, or breakfast, or whatever you want to call it, around ten. Then he has an afternoon job, working part time in Mr. Hendricks' Grocery Store.”

‘Two jobs!” Lynn exclaimed. “Why, he must be exhausted!”

“He is,” Anne said, dropping her voice. “Sometimes I think maybe that's why he's so hard on Dirk. He's just so worn out, he can't relax and take things easy. And Dirk—well, Dirk could be making things easier for him if he wanted to. Other boys work in the afternoons, after school. Look at Ronnie Turner, for instance! But not Dirk; he's too busy with his own activities.”

Lynn asked, “Will he be here for dinner?”

“I certainly hope so,” Anne replied. “If not, this will be the third time this week that he's missed dinner, and Dad will be furious.”

But Dirk did not show up. The meal was a hurried one, as Mr. Masters was running slightly behind schedule and had to be at his job in a short time. He bolted his food, scarcely stopping to chew it, got up quickly without excusing himself and snatched his jacket off the back of a nearby chair.

Now I know where Dirk gets his manners, or lack of them, Lynn thought with distaste. She could not remember ever seeing her father shovel food into his mouth or leave the table before her mother was finished, unless there was an emergency call from the hospital.

But then, she reminded herself sharply, Daddy's had advantages Mr. Masters hasn't enjoyed. Perhaps he was brought up this way and honestly doesn't know any better.

Her opinion of him softened as he stopped by her chair
and laid a hand briefly on her shoulder.

“I'm glad you came, Lynn. You and Anne have a good time together. Poor kid, she must get lonely in the evenings with nothing to do and no one to talk to.” He turned to Anne.

“'Night, baby. Thanks for dinner.”

“Good night, Dad.” Anne's face was tender as she rose to give her father a quick kiss. “I'll have something in the refrigerator for you when you come in.”

“Fine!” Her father started for the door and then turned back. “When your brother gets in, you can tell him for me—

“Now, Dad,” Anne broke in gently, “we don't know what delayed him. I'm sure he has a reason for not getting here in time to eat with us.”

Her father did not bother to answer. He merely opened the front door and went out, shutting it a little too loudly behind him.

After helping Anne to do the dishes at the miniature kitchen sink, Lynn wondered what in the world they would find to do to pass the evening. It was only six-thirty and still light outside. There was no television set or record player, and she could not remember seeing even a radio. She glanced at Anne.

Anne caught the look and interpreted it correctly.

“There isn't much to do here in the evening. Usually, I study and read or paint for a while and go to bed early. Sometimes, when Dirk is here, we play cards together. Or I go over to Clara's, or walk downtown.” Suddenly her face brightened. “Why don't we go to a movie?”

“Fine,” Lynn said. “If we leave right away, we can make the early show.”

They left the dishes stacked in the drying rack and caught the bus at the comer. When they reached the movie theater, she hesitated in the lobby, waiting for Anne to lead the way to where she wanted to sit. She was relieved to see that she did not choose the balcony. Though, there's no reason why she would, Lynn reminded herself. Anne may be Dirk's sister, but she certainly doesn't go around with the disgusting people he does.

The movie was a long one, and there were a lot of short subjects, so it was nine-thirty by the time they got out. They wandered through town, looking in lighted store windows, and stopped at a drugstore for a Coke before catching the bus for home. By the time they reached the Masters' house, another hour had passed, and it was almost half-past ten.

Dirk was sitting in the living room, eating a sandwich. His eyes widened when he saw Lynn.

“What the heck—”

Lynn smiled, enjoying his surprise. “Hello, Dirk; we missed you at dinner.”

“Lynn is spending the night with me.” Anne turned to him accusingly. “We
did
miss you at dinner, Dirk. Where were you?”

Dirk said, “Out.”

“I know ‘out.' Out where? With that Brad Morgan?”

“So, what if I was?” Dirk retorted defiantly. “I guess I'm old enough to pick my own friends.” Then his voice softened before the concern in her face. “Don't worry about me so much, Annie. Be a good kid and run out to the kitchen and fry me a hamburger. I'm starved, and this peanut butter doesn't exactly hit the spot.”

“All right, but you don't deserve it,” Anne said.

She disappeared into the kitchen.

Lynn hesitated and then seated herself on the far end of the sofa. The silence was awkward.

She thought, I should say something—no, why should I be the one? Let Dirk speak first. I'm a guest in his house; let him be polite to me.

Dirk shifted uncomfortably.

Finally he said, “So you're spending the night with Anne? I didn't know you two were that close friends. I—I—” He fumbled for words. “I'm glad you did come.”

It was the friendliest thing Dirk had ever said to her.

Lynn said, “I'm glad, too. I like your sister very much. I didn't realize before how talented she is. Why these water colors—” She gestured toward the walls. “They're just wonderful!”

Dirk brightened, his discomfort seeming to fall away.

“Aren't they good? She's never had any instruction, either. She just picks up a brush and goes to it, and those pictures come out.” His face was gentle when he talked of his sister. “With all the work she does here, the housework and cooking and her schoolwork, you'd never think she'd have time to work on something like that. She's a great girl. She deserves a lot more than she's got.”

“What do you mean?” Lynn asked softly.

“I mean at school mostly. Anne deserves to be in the clubs and on the student council and at all the parties—you know, one of the Crowd who run things. Just because she's so quiet and doesn't come from the Hill doesn't mean she doesn't have a lot on the ball!”

“Yes,” agreed Lynn sincerely, “I realize that now. I never really knew Anne until recently. I guess I was too tied up
with my own friends to try to get to know somebody else. But I do know her now, and I'm going to do everything I can to see she's included in everything that comes along.”

Dirk was quiet a moment. Then he said, “Thanks.” After a moment, he reached across and put his hand over hers. “About the other evening—I'm sorry.”

He opened his mouth, as though he were going to say more, and then he closed it again. Lynn felt his hand tremble over hers. She turned toward him and found him looking at her. There was nothing defiant in his eyes now, nothing mocking. She felt strangely confused by the intensity of his gaze.

“That's all right, Dirk,” she said, surprised by the tremor in her voice. “I—I guess—Let's forget about it, shall we?”

He nodded without speaking.

They sat there in companionable silence, listening to the clatter of dishes from the kitchen. The little room was warm and cozy in the light from the lamp on the table.

Lynn thought, I've never seen Dirk like this, just relaxed and comfortable and happy. He's always fighting something when I see him at school, trying to get the best of somebody, to show the world that he doesn't care. He's much nicer like this. And much more attractive.

Later that night, when she lay beside Anne in the narrow bed, Lynn thought about Dirk again.

He
is
a nice boy, she decided. Underneath all that hardness, there's somebody worth knowing. Maybe he's confused and doesn't know which direction to take, but that's because he doesn't have a mother to help him. People react in different ways to loneliness. Somebody like Anne matures with it and learns to take over and bear up and live
things through. But somebody like Dirk, somebody not quite as strong as Anne, can go to pieces.

She thought, he needs somebody! He really does!

It was a strange thought, Dirk needing somebody.

Lying there in the cramped bed, listening to Anne's quiet breathing beside her, it was exciting to think of leading a wandering boy back onto the right path—exciting and inspiring and a tremendous challenge.