then shrugged. “All right, if you want it that way.”
Oh, gosh . . . I didn't want it that way! But my pride was as high as any mountain in the Willies.
He walked beside me toward the lower-grade classrooms. Any moment, I thought, he'd regret his invitation. Both Our Jane and Keith were waiting near the first grade, each seeming terribly anxious before Our Jane came flying into my arms, half sobbing. “Kin we eat now, Hey-lee? My tummy hurts.”
About the same time, Keith began jabbering about the tuna fish sandwich I'd promised. “Did Miss Deale send us another one?” he asked, his small face
bright and eager. “Is it Monday today? Did she send us milk?”
I tried to smile at Logan, who was taking all of this in and looking thoughtfully at Our Jane, then at Keith. Finally he turned to me and smiled. “If you'd rather have tuna fish sandwiches, maybe the cafeteria will have a few left if we hurry there.”
There wasn't anything I could do now that Keith and Our Jane began running toward the cafeteria like foxes on the scent of chickens. “Heaven,” said Logan with earnestness, “I've never allowed a girl to pay for her own lunch when I invite her. Please allow me to treat you.”
We no sooner entered the cafeteria than I could hear the whispers and speculationswhat was Logan doing with the crummy Casteels? Tom was there, as if Logan had invited him earlier, and for some reason that made me feel much better. Now I could smile and help Our Jane sit at a long table. Keith crowded as close to her side as possible and looked around shyly. “Everybody still want tuna fish sandwiches and milk?” asked Logan, who had asked Tom to go with him to help bring back our lunches. Our Jane and Keith stuck to their preference, while I agreed to try the hamburger and cola drink. I looked around while
Tom and Logan were gone, trying to see Fanny. She wasn't in the cafeteria. That gave me another worry. Fanny had her own ways of gaining a meal.
All about us, people kept whispering, not seeming to care if I heard or not. “What's he doing with her? She's just a hillbilly. And his family has to be rich.”
Logan Stonewall drew many an eye as he came back with Tom, both of them smiling and happy to deliver tuna sandwiches, hamburgers, french fries, and shakes, and milk too. Both Our Jane and Keith were overwhelmed by all the food, wanting to sip my shake, taste my hamburger, try the french fries, so I ended up with the milk and Our Jane drank my cola, closing her eyes tight with delight. “I'll buy you another,” Logan offered, but I refused to allow him to do that. He'd already done more than enough.
I found out he really was fifteen. He smiled with pleasure when I whispered my age. He had to know my birthdate, as if that mattered, and it seemed it did; his mother believed in astrology. He told me how he'd managed to have himself assigned to the study hall where I sat each day to do my homework. I always tried to finish it there so I could take novels home instead of schoolbooks.
For the first time in my life I had a real boyfriend, one who didn't presume I was easy just because I lived in the hills. Logan didn't mock my clothes or my background. However, from day one Logan made enemies in our school, because he was different, too good-looking, his clothes too “citified.” His poise was too annoying, his family too rich, his father too educated, his mother too haughty. It was presumed by the other boys he was a sissy. Even that first day Tom said that one day Logan would have to prove himself. The other boys tried all their silly, but not so harmless, pranks. They put tacks in his shoes in the gym; they tied his shoelaces together so he'd be late to his next class after gym; they put glue in his shoes, and backed away when he grew angry and threatened to beat the culprit.
Before his first week was over Logan was placed two grades above Tom's and my level. By that time he, too, wore jeans and plaid shirts,
Oh, gosh . . . I didn't want it that way! But my pride was as high as any mountain in the Willies.
He walked beside me toward the lower-grade classrooms. Any moment, I thought, he'd regret his invitation. Both Our Jane and Keith were waiting near the first grade, each seeming terribly anxious before Our Jane came flying into my arms, half sobbing. “Kin we eat now, Hey-lee? My tummy hurts.”
About the same time, Keith began jabbering about the tuna fish sandwich I'd promised. “Did Miss Deale send us another one?” he asked, his small face
bright and eager. “Is it Monday today? Did she send us milk?”
I tried to smile at Logan, who was taking all of this in and looking thoughtfully at Our Jane, then at Keith. Finally he turned to me and smiled. “If you'd rather have tuna fish sandwiches, maybe the cafeteria will have a few left if we hurry there.”
There wasn't anything I could do now that Keith and Our Jane began running toward the cafeteria like foxes on the scent of chickens. “Heaven,” said Logan with earnestness, “I've never allowed a girl to pay for her own lunch when I invite her. Please allow me to treat you.”
We no sooner entered the cafeteria than I could hear the whispers and speculationswhat was Logan doing with the crummy Casteels? Tom was there, as if Logan had invited him earlier, and for some reason that made me feel much better. Now I could smile and help Our Jane sit at a long table. Keith crowded as close to her side as possible and looked around shyly. “Everybody still want tuna fish sandwiches and milk?” asked Logan, who had asked Tom to go with him to help bring back our lunches. Our Jane and Keith stuck to their preference, while I agreed to try the hamburger and cola drink. I looked around while
Tom and Logan were gone, trying to see Fanny. She wasn't in the cafeteria. That gave me another worry. Fanny had her own ways of gaining a meal.
All about us, people kept whispering, not seeming to care if I heard or not. “What's he doing with her? She's just a hillbilly. And his family has to be rich.”
Logan Stonewall drew many an eye as he came back with Tom, both of them smiling and happy to deliver tuna sandwiches, hamburgers, french fries, and shakes, and milk too. Both Our Jane and Keith were overwhelmed by all the food, wanting to sip my shake, taste my hamburger, try the french fries, so I ended up with the milk and Our Jane drank my cola, closing her eyes tight with delight. “I'll buy you another,” Logan offered, but I refused to allow him to do that. He'd already done more than enough.
I found out he really was fifteen. He smiled with pleasure when I whispered my age. He had to know my birthdate, as if that mattered, and it seemed it did; his mother believed in astrology. He told me how he'd managed to have himself assigned to the study hall where I sat each day to do my homework. I always tried to finish it there so I could take novels home instead of schoolbooks.
For the first time in my life I had a real boyfriend, one who didn't presume I was easy just because I lived in the hills. Logan didn't mock my clothes or my background. However, from day one Logan made enemies in our school, because he was different, too good-looking, his clothes too “citified.” His poise was too annoying, his family too rich, his father too educated, his mother too haughty. It was presumed by the other boys he was a sissy. Even that first day Tom said that one day Logan would have to prove himself. The other boys tried all their silly, but not so harmless, pranks. They put tacks in his shoes in the gym; they tied his shoelaces together so he'd be late to his next class after gym; they put glue in his shoes, and backed away when he grew angry and threatened to beat the culprit.
Before his first week was over Logan was placed two grades above Tom's and my level. By that time he, too, wore jeans and plaid shirts,
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