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Great Writing - Home > Extended > The Tattered Rose (Chapter 5)
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Extended Work
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| The Tattered Rose (Chapter 5) | |
| By beatricelouise | ||||||||
| 12 April 2008 | ||||||||
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The boots Mamma picked up from the church continued to be a constant nuisance, once more brimming over with packed snow. Flopping myself down on the bottom step of the long stairway, I removed one boot at a time dislodging the frozen accumulation. The white substance clung to my long, rippled stockings. Brushing my legs with both hands, I wanted to remove the snow before it melted. “What am I to do?” I grumbled in a low tone. I wanted to begin the New Year with a changed mind-set; however, I could see that my mulish character was in charge. Immediately, the school bell rang. Hurry! I must hurry! Both feet slipped back into my boots, unlaced as usual. I scurried to the top of the stairs. For once, I’d be first in the line up. Sister Marie would be proud once the changes began to transform me. Children collected at once, two by two, boys to the right and girls to the left. Attention to detail was my objective for the upcoming year. Tardiness wouldn’t do. What better time to establish a clean slate but at the beginning of an unmarked year. The flag was raised, the roll called, the anthem sung and the Lord’s Prayer offered. School was now in session. First class of the day--literature. Sister Marie, our fourth grade teacher, had high expectations, and didn’t bend the rules. She carried with her an instrument, which at first sight appeared small in size, but its functions were endless. “Lucy. I’d like you to come to the front of the class and recite the poem by Longfellow.” Taken aback, I thought. Who me? In front of the class? “Um, yes Sister Marie.” What else could I say? No? Ask someone else? Usually she called on her pet to show off her skillfulness. This might be just the time for me to prove myself to her. I must be bold. Suddenly, my lungs were desperate for air. The walk to the front was mind-numbing. I turned and faced giggly, scornful faces; faces that would rather see me breakdown than do well in my endeavor. My first thought suggested running and hiding. Then I noticed my feet, icy, cold but my forehead swimming in droplets of moisture. I used the sleeve of my blouse to dry my brow. Then, I was tested with a decision. Dash out, be laughed at and ridiculed or remain to face these tyrant’s head on. I began with a tranquil voice. “The Arrow and the Song* by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.” “Lucy, could you please raise your voice for all to hear?” said Sister. I turned and gazed into her face disappointed she interrupted my recitation. I did so want to get this over and done. “Yes, Sister.” I started the recitation one more time. This time resolution took hold and I addressed the classroom with punch. The thought to make Aunt Rebecca proud struck me. This was the moment in time to be obstinate. I stood straight and tall, shoulders held back and head up. I fixed my eyes above the heads of my rivals, words gushing out of me as though I was an old hand at this sort of thing. I returned to my seat, dumbfounded as all they who stared at me with eyes of astonishment. “Well, Lucy! I see you’ve been doing your homework. You’ve done the bard proud, I’m sure.” Sister looked as though she wasn’t persuaded I could carry out such a feat in front of this malicious assembly. She continued, “It pays to study and perform the tasks that are asked of you, isn’t it? “Yes, Sister.” The students replied in unison. “Now we will begin out lesson, class,” she said. “Have you considered the lesson we addressed before Christmas? I want to return to that topic briefly. When we’ve given our word and disclose the matter to another, we have broken our trust. In short, if you can’t keep a secret, you can’t be trusted. Class! I want each of you to construct a poem on the theme, *TRUST*. The poem must consist of at least eight lines, must rhyme and be written tidily in the final copy. Please have the poem placed on my desk by next Monday morning, first thing. An excess of whining followed the announcement. I guessed adding my opinion wouldn’t modify the instruction one bit. I went all the way in this last milestone just to arrive at the depths of despair. Write a poem! The assignment sounded too difficult for me. The matter of keeping secrets was making my life utterly miserable. I did suppose however, Sister Marie was somewhat taken aback. Little Miss know it all, Sister’s pet, must’ve been squirming in her bloomers right about then dreading I might knock her down a nick or two. Wouldn’t that’ve been just glorious? The little snoot! “Lucy!” Sister Marie said, just as the final minutes drew to a close, “Would you please stay after school to clean the blackboards?” “Why, yes Sister Marie.” Not just anybody was invited to perform tasks alone in Sister’s presence. Immediately, following the class’s dismissal, I erased the blackboards, went outdoors and whacked the grey, felt brushes together to rid them of the chalky residue and wiped down the blackboards with an oily smelling cloth, saturated with a special cleaning solution. It left the blackboards like new. Cleaning the chalk trays, I then placed the clean brushes and fresh chalk on the trays. “Is there anything else you’d like me to do, Sister?” “Yes, dear. There’s one more thing.” Sister moved the bulky, wooden chair from her desk and pointed to a pair of boots stashed in the corner. “Would you please hand me my boots?” I kneeled down and crawled to the corner. The black waxed scent tickled my nose, bringing to mind old man Higgins’s Shoe Shop. Laces criss-crossed to the top of the boots and short heels were connected. I handed them to Sister. She took them in her hands, inspected them and said, “These boots are too tight on me. They press against my bunions making them impossible to wear, and therefore, are just dust collectors. Would you try them on Lucy? Maybe, you could make use of them sooner or later.” “Sister, are you sure?” I was in a state of shock. Earlier in the winter, Sarah gave me a pair of priceless skates and now I was being given a new pair of boots. Untying them, I slipped one on. “See, Sister? They do fit.” Well, practically. With an extra pair of stockings, they would fit even better, I thought. And by next year at this time, they would fit to perfection. “Thank-you so much, Sister Marie. I’ll treasure these for my entire life. You’re so good and kind. How’ll I ever be able to repay you?” I might have seemed a bit melodramatic, but when one lives the impoverished life as I had, my reactions were not an act. I meant every word I said and was unable to restrain any emotion that escaped. I saw a tear escape Sister’s eye. She turned. Grabbed the edge of her apron and wiped it away. We both stood, silent. She turned and gazed at me. “Oh, nonsense child. Repay me? Why, you’re doing me a favor. They were taking up space for nothing. You must go now or your Mamma will become troubled.” Sister Marie began gathering her papers and tidying up her massive desk. I wanted to embrace the saint that stood before me; the one clothed in humility, but I refrained from the action and moved away with regret. My thumb, about to press the door latch, was stopped short. “You did admirable work on the blackboards, Lucy. Thank-you! Would you mind keeping the boots a secret from the rest of the pupils?" I nodded. The subject of keeping secrets was frequently crossing my path. I ran all the way home to tell Mamma of my newest treasure. The boots might appear an odd sight in contrast to the rest of my attire, but that thought didn’t cross my mind at the time.
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