The Slipper by Jennifer Wilde Page B

them.
    â€œThank you,” Carol replied.
    Jim turned to Julie then and gave her a lovely smile. He really was a handsome boy, Julie thought, and she knew that beneath all that phony swagger he was a very nice boy as well.
    â€œWhen am I goin’ to do a scene with you, Julie?” he inquired.
    â€œI—I’m just observing,” she said shyly.
    Jim gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. “I’ve got a feelin’ you’d be terrific to work with.”
    â€œYou were very good today,” Julie told him. “So much intensity. I was actually frightened.”
    â€œYeah, I really got into it there for a minute. You ever decide to get up there and show your stuff, you can count on me to help. I’d be glad to rehearse with you beforehand.”
    Julie gave him a shy smile. Jim patted her shoulder again and swaggered away.
    â€œYou know him?” Carol asked.
    â€œNot—not really. I was coming out of the library one evening last week with an armload of books Doug needed and I—I tripped on the steps and fell. I sprained my wrist. Jim happened to be walking by and he helped me to my feet and gathered up the books for me and insisted I let him take me to the infirmary to see about my wrist. I—I assured him it was only a light sprain. Jim said I was in no condition to carry all those heavy books, and he walked me back to the apartment, carrying them for me.”
    â€œThat was very thoughtful of him,” Carol said.
    â€œHe—he really is a very nice boy. He was warm and friendly and witty, not at all like he is in class. He didn’t mumble, didn’t swagger—he wasn’t even wearing his leather jacket. He’s actually quite sensitive and—extremely talented.”
    â€œHe’s a very good actor,” Carol agreed. “If he’d stop trying to copy Marlon Brando and develop his own technique he’d be wonderful.”
    Carol put on her coat. It was a soft blue wool with belted waist and a full gray fur collar. Carol always dressed so beautifully. Most of the girls in drama class affected black leotards and wraparound plaid skirts and black turtleneck sweaters, very hip, very bohemian, their hair pulled back in pony tails tied with colored scarves. Not Carol. She had her own individual style. Julie always felt dowdy beside her, but there wasn’t any money to spend on clothes. Even if there had been, she’d never have Carol’s flair.
    â€œYou were excellent today, too,” Julie said quietly. “That part about not being sure his parents would approve—it was inspired. It gave the girl definition.”
    Carol tied a blue silk scarf over her head. “Nora and I are planning to meet at the SUB for coffee and sandwiches,” she said. “I wish you’d join us, Julie.”
    Julie shook her head as the other students noisily made their way out of the classroom. “I’d love to, Carol, but—I’d better get home to Doug. He’s studying for an exam today and probably hasn’t had any lunch. Besides, I—I have to report to work at three.”
    â€œMay I speak to you a moment, Mrs. Hammond?”
    Both girls turned as Julian Compton approached. Carol squeezed Julie’s hand and left. Compton and Julie were alone in the classroom. She felt ill at ease, even though she knew that he liked her, even though he was the kindest man she’d ever known.
    â€œI’m disappointed you didn’t feel like participating today, Julie,” he said. “I wish you could bring yourself to take an active part. You’re every bit as good as any of the others. Better than most of them.”
    â€œYou don’t really know that,” Julie replied.
    â€œI know,” Compton told her. “I have instincts about these things, and the one time I coaxed you up to read, you were magnificent. You were Hedda Gabler. You forgot all about Julie Hammond, forgot your shyness. Everyone