“I’ve Got the World on a String.” Alice wore a black leotard and tights and ballet slippers and she had carefully painted whiskers on her face with a charcoal stick. Laura had dressed in a pink tutu with her long slender legs encased in white tights and her blonde hair lying loose around her shoulders and cascading down her back. She had refused to paint her face with whiskers, even at Mother’s insistence that, “all the other girls will be painted up and you will look like a fool.”
And now she was gone, she had disappeared into the crowd, and Alice had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. The last thing Mother had said to her as they left the house was, “Don’t let her out of your sight.”
She made her way slowly around the room, adopting a false, casual manner, stopping to sample hors d’oeuvres and chat with several of the girls. Laura was not in the room. Alice was certain of that. The next logical place to look would be the kitchen where her sister could often be found sitting and chatting with the servants, and if she wasn’t there, chances were good she’d given Alice the slip, and had left the house for an assignation with some unknown beau.
Heat rose in her face at this thought, followed by a quick stab of anger at her sister, and at her mother for making her responsible for Laura’s actions. Always responsible for Laura. Always having to stop her from making some catastrophic mistake that would bring shame and despair down on the rest of them.
“Looking for someone?” Adele stood at the edge of a group of girls who were all staring at Alice.
Alice sipped her punch. “No,” she said.
“Because if you’re looking for your sister, I saw her disappear up the stairs with my brother not five minutes after you got here.”
Alice stared at her above the rim of her punch glass. She set the glass down carefully on a table. “Maybe you should have said something.”
“Why should I?”
“Because your brother is three years older than my sister.”
“What difference does that make? Your sister will go with anyone.”
For a moment Alice thought she might strike her. Her hand tingled with the imagined slap, the weight of her flesh against Adele’s rouged cheek. But then she saw the faces of the girls arrayed behind Adele, their expressions closed, accusing.
“My sister is a good girl,” Alice said serenely.
“She’s not,” Adele said.
“Everybody knows she’s not.”
“My mother says she’s boy crazy.”
“My mother says girls like her always end badly.”
“Your mothers are a bunch of jealous old biddies,” Alice said, turning away from them.
She could feel the weight of their eyes as she climbed the stairs. She walked slowly, deliberately, with no apparent concern. At the top of the stairs, out of view of the living room, she paused. She heard giggling at the end of the hallway, and she followed the sound to a closed door. Turning the knob, she put her shoulder against the door and shoved hard to open it.
Laura sat on the edge of the bed, naked from the waist up, her pink tutu bunched around her hips. Her lips were red and swollen and her hair rose like a cloud around her lovely face with its expression of guileless innocence.
“Sister,” she said sweetly.
Charlie Gaskins knelt in front for her. “G-get out!” he said.
Alice picked up a wooden globe and hurled it at him. She followed this with a copy of “Shakespeare’s Sonnets” and “The Divine Comedy” which caught him in the temple, causing him to cry out and hold his head in his hands. She crossed the room and took Laura by the arm and yanked her upright, pulling up the straps of her tutu. She pushed her sister ahead of her into the hallway. In the doorway, she turned and looked at Charlie.
“If you touch my sister again I’ll kill you.”
They went quickly down the backstairs, through the kitchen, and out the back door into the cool night air. Laura was crying softly. Her hair glowed in the
And now she was gone, she had disappeared into the crowd, and Alice had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. The last thing Mother had said to her as they left the house was, “Don’t let her out of your sight.”
She made her way slowly around the room, adopting a false, casual manner, stopping to sample hors d’oeuvres and chat with several of the girls. Laura was not in the room. Alice was certain of that. The next logical place to look would be the kitchen where her sister could often be found sitting and chatting with the servants, and if she wasn’t there, chances were good she’d given Alice the slip, and had left the house for an assignation with some unknown beau.
Heat rose in her face at this thought, followed by a quick stab of anger at her sister, and at her mother for making her responsible for Laura’s actions. Always responsible for Laura. Always having to stop her from making some catastrophic mistake that would bring shame and despair down on the rest of them.
“Looking for someone?” Adele stood at the edge of a group of girls who were all staring at Alice.
Alice sipped her punch. “No,” she said.
“Because if you’re looking for your sister, I saw her disappear up the stairs with my brother not five minutes after you got here.”
Alice stared at her above the rim of her punch glass. She set the glass down carefully on a table. “Maybe you should have said something.”
“Why should I?”
“Because your brother is three years older than my sister.”
“What difference does that make? Your sister will go with anyone.”
For a moment Alice thought she might strike her. Her hand tingled with the imagined slap, the weight of her flesh against Adele’s rouged cheek. But then she saw the faces of the girls arrayed behind Adele, their expressions closed, accusing.
“My sister is a good girl,” Alice said serenely.
“She’s not,” Adele said.
“Everybody knows she’s not.”
“My mother says she’s boy crazy.”
“My mother says girls like her always end badly.”
“Your mothers are a bunch of jealous old biddies,” Alice said, turning away from them.
She could feel the weight of their eyes as she climbed the stairs. She walked slowly, deliberately, with no apparent concern. At the top of the stairs, out of view of the living room, she paused. She heard giggling at the end of the hallway, and she followed the sound to a closed door. Turning the knob, she put her shoulder against the door and shoved hard to open it.
Laura sat on the edge of the bed, naked from the waist up, her pink tutu bunched around her hips. Her lips were red and swollen and her hair rose like a cloud around her lovely face with its expression of guileless innocence.
“Sister,” she said sweetly.
Charlie Gaskins knelt in front for her. “G-get out!” he said.
Alice picked up a wooden globe and hurled it at him. She followed this with a copy of “Shakespeare’s Sonnets” and “The Divine Comedy” which caught him in the temple, causing him to cry out and hold his head in his hands. She crossed the room and took Laura by the arm and yanked her upright, pulling up the straps of her tutu. She pushed her sister ahead of her into the hallway. In the doorway, she turned and looked at Charlie.
“If you touch my sister again I’ll kill you.”
They went quickly down the backstairs, through the kitchen, and out the back door into the cool night air. Laura was crying softly. Her hair glowed in the
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