The Queen's Gambit by Walter Tevis

She pictured Fergussen as a student, taking true-false tests and holding his hand up when he wanted to leave the room. She had never liked him before, had thought of him as just one of the others.
    “Jesus, kid,” he said, “I thought Deardorff would
explode
.”
    She watched the trees go by outside the car window.
    “How many did you take? Twenty?”
    “I didn’t count.”
    He laughed. “Enjoy ’em,” he said. “It’ll be cold turkey tomorrow.”
    ***
    At Methuen she went directly to bed and slept deeply for twelve hours. In the morning, after breakfast, Fergussen once again his usual distant self, told her to go to Mrs. Deardorff’s office. Surprisingly, she wasn’t afraid. The pills had worn off, but she felt rested and calm. While getting dressed she had made an extraordinary discovery. Deep in the pocket of her serge skirt, survivors of her being caught, her trip to the hospital, her undressing and then dressing again, were twenty-three tranquilizers. She had to take her toothbrush out of its holder to get them all in.
    Mrs. Deardorff kept her waiting almost an hour. Beth didn’t care. She read in
National Geographic
about a tribe of Indians who lived in the holes of cliffs. Brown people with black hair and bad teeth. In the pictures there were children everywhere, often snuggled up against the older people. It was all strange; she had never been touched very much by older people, except for punishment. She did not let herself think about Mrs. Deardorff’s razor strop. If Deardorff was going to use it, she could take it. Somehow she sensed that what she had been caught doing was of a magnitude beyond usual punishment. And, deeper than that, she was aware of the complicity of the orphanage that had fed her and all the others on pills that would make them less restless, easier to deal with.
    ***
    Mrs. Deardorff did not invite her to sit. Mr. Schell was seated on Mrs. Deardorff’s little blue chintz sofa, and in the red armchair sat Miss Lonsdale. Miss Lonsdale was in charge of chapel. Before she had started slipping off to play chess on Sundays, Beth had listened to some of Miss Lonsdale’s chapel talks. They were about Christian service and about how bad dancing and Communism were, as well as some other things Miss Lonsdale was not specific about.
    “We have been discussing your case for the past hour, Elizabeth,” Mrs. Deardorff said. Her eyes, fixed on Beth, were cold and dangerous.
    Beth watched her and said nothing. She felt something was going on that was like chess. In chess you did not let on what your next move would be.
    “Your behavior has come as a profound shock to all of us. Nothing”—for a moment the muscles at the sides of Deardorff’s jaw stood out like steel cables—“
nothing
in the history of the Metheun Home has been so deplorable. It must not happen again.”
    Mr. Schell spoke up. “We are terribly disappointed—”
    “I can’t sleep without the pills,” Beth said.
    There was a startled silence. No one had expected her to speak. Then Mrs. Deardorff said, “All the more reason why you should not have them.” But there was something odd in her voice, as though she were frightened.
    “You shouldn’t have given them to us in the first place,” Beth said.
    “
I will not have back talk from a child
,” Mrs. Deardorff said. She stood up and leaned across the desk toward Beth. “If you speak to me like that again, you will regret it.”
    The breath caught in Beth’s throat. Mrs. Deardorff’s body seemed enormous. Beth drew back as though she had touched something white hot.
    Mrs. Deardorff sat down and adjusted her glasses. “Your library and playground privileges have been suspended. You will not attend the Saturday movies and you will be in bed promptly at eight o’clock in the evenings. Do you understand?”
    Beth nodded.
    “
Answer me.
”
    “Yes.”
    “You will be in chapel thirty minutes early and will be responsible for setting up the chairs. If you are in