The Heart Specialist by Claire Holden Rothman Page A

sweltering heat, and most of them were not bookish or concerned with school grades. Miss Symmers registered none of this. She stood above me smiling. I was supposed to collect the purse, the one that would pay my way to McGill, and then give my speech. I had rehearsed it many times, but all of a sudden it did not seem so straightforward. I stood at the podium, gazing out at the sea of glistening, blurry faces and realized I could not remember a word of it. I had scribbled the main points on cards, and I read from these now in a pinched and little voice. Not the speech I had painstakingly planned, but a choppy, truncated thing that could not have made much sense to anybody bothering to listen. Miss Symmers smiled bravely through it all and then came forward to embrace me, but I was already lurching away, heading for the exit. I fled blindly, without a plan, my heart pounding so hard it drowned out all other sounds.
    The first thing I saw with any clarity after the fiasco was Miss Skerry’s face. She had raced after me, following me outside with my glasses. Laure came out next and gave me an unexpected hug. I had taken refuge under a willow at the far end of the school’s playing field. During the school year I had come here to read. It was at the edge of the school grounds where few girls ventured. Its branches dipped all the way to the grass, providing a natural cover.
    “Your headmistresses will worry,” said Miss Skerry. “We ought to go and tell them you’re all right.”
    I shook my head. My pride was still stinging so we stood together under the willow as the others began to file outside. Miss Skerry spoke softy to me, telling me it was all right, commending the speech, even though I felt I would die of shame for making such a hash of it. Eventually Miss Skerry sent Laure to tell Miss Symmers and Miss Smith where we were and to collect my purse.
    “How will I face them?” I asked when we were alone.
    Miss Skerry shrugged. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Agnes. I think you should go out there. Enjoy the graduation. Rejoice in the fact that you will be moving on to bigger and better things.”
    I shook my head, having none of the faith of my former governess. Grandmother was quite adamant that my future held a move back to the small and dismal St. Andrews East.
    We stood for a while longer behind the branches. A canvas awning had been set up in the middle of the field, under which tea and sweets had been laid out on a table. Several girls from the next grade down were serving food.
    I spotted Grandmother walking across the lawn with the two headmistresses. Laure ran up to them and gave them the news of where I was and they turned and peered in my direction. They crossed the field with Laure to seek me out. Grandmother was not quite as willing as my teachers to forgive my gauche departure. She walked over to the table and started a conversation with Mrs. Banks Geoffreys. I raked my fingers through my hair, pulling loose a braid.
    “Your hair!” said Laure, who had just made it back to the tree with Miss Symmers and Miss Smith. She retrieved a fallen ribbon and approached to reattach it, but I shook my head. “Oh Agnes,” she sighed. “I was just trying to help.”
    I pulled out the other ribbon and pins, letting my hair down just as my headmistresses ducked under the branches into our hiding spot.
    “I can fix it,” said Laure, more to the headmistresses than to me.
    “I’m very good with hair.” And right there in front of them she began to braid it again, smiling sweetly as if she really had it in her power to set every awkwardness aright.
    “She’s always been like this,” my sister explained, tugging at me fiercely. “She’s never cared about ordinary things.”
    Miss Skerry intervened. “Agnes is not an ordinary girl, Laure. That has been clear for years now, and frankly it is what I appreciate most about her.”
    Miss Smith laughed. And Miss Symmers, bless her, reached into her pocket and took