Evil Friendship (5 page)

C
HRISTMAS
W
EEK
, 1955

The halls at Chillam were hung with holly and mistletoe, branches of fir trees, and there was the smell of pine.

But in the gymnasium were the smell of chlorine and Miss Nicky’s face looking more wooden than a carved head.

Martha Kent, standing with her coat on before Miss Nicky’s desk, tried to sneak a glance at her wristwatch. She had an appointment with Mary Drew at five, in the woods just beyond Chillam. They were to have their secret Druid ceremony, the cutting of the mistletoe. Christmas was still a week away, but this was to be their Chillam Christmas celebration, their most mysterious ritual of all, just as it was getting dark.

“Do you want to know the time, Martha?” Miss Nicky snapped.

“Well, mam, I — ”

“Three-fifteen.”

“Thank you.”

Miss Nicky said, “Remove your wrap.”

Martha hated her at that moment more than at any other time. Chillam was tradition-bound at Christmas, and with the traditions came duties. Martha had just finished the stencils for the crib in the chapel, painstakingly lettering out
JOY TO THE WORLD, PEACE ON EARTH
, and
A LITTLE CHILD IS
BORN
until her fingers were crooked and stained with India ink. And there was still the table of candy figurines to arrange in the main hall of Old House, before she flew off to meet Mary Drew. Now Miss Nicky had intercepted her in the main hall and forced her to come here to the gymnasium.

“You are not attending the Christmas party this evening, are you, Martha?”

“No, mam. It’s optional for day girls.”

“It doesn’t matter to me very much that you have no school spirit, Martha, but other things do matter.”

“Mam?”

“Did you know that sometimes I’m called ‘Hawk-eye’, Martha?”

Martha lied. “No, mam.” Everyone knew Miss Nicky was the most incredible snoop in Chillam or anywhere within a five-hundred-mile radius of Chillam.

“Well, I am. And for good reason.” She fixed Martha Kent with a hard look. “Hand them over,” she said.

Martha blushed. “Mam?”

“The candies, Martha. Place the Christmas candies on my desk!”

From her pocket Martha took the two sugar statues she had managed to slip from the large box in the main hall. She had planned to take them to the Druid ritual for her and Mary Drew to eat.

The two she had taken were statues of the Wise Men. There were others of the Holy Family, and at Chillam at Christmas time they were placed on a large table, around which everyone gathered for ceremony and singing.

Miss Nicky said, “If you had chosen to attend the party this evening, you would have been entitled to a candy. One! But you did not choose to attend, and you took two!”

“There were so many,” Martha said. “I — ” “Decided to steal.” Martha said nothing.

“Very well, then you will pay the penalty for this. I’ll see that your name is removed from Main Hall Duty, or it’s quite possible you’ll walk off with the Holy Family as well as the Wise Men. As for now, you may report to the ‘Points Off’ Senior for this month. Report now.”

“Yes, mam.” There would be more penalties, more study halls to attend during free periods, and all the other unpleasant tasks assigned to girls with low points. It would be up to the Senior in charge.

“Do you know to whom you are to report, Martha?”

“Yes, mam. Anna Swanson, isn’t it?”

“It would be, if it were not for the fact that Anna lives in Geneva. In order to allow her to spend the holidays with her family, she received permission to leave a week ahead of the others. I suppose day girls wouldn’t even be aware that Anna left last Wednesday.”

“I didn’t know, Miss Nicky.”

“Of course not. You and Mary Drew don’t know or care about anything that occurs at Chillam. Well,” passing over that remark quickly, Miss Nicky said, “Evelyn Rush is Senior in charge. You may go directly to her room at Old Main.”

“I see … Will she —
be
there? Everyone’s so … occupied.”

“Rush will be there. She’s making window decorations there.”

“Yes, mam.”

“And Merry Christmas, Martha,” Miss Nicky said as Martha, grabbed her coat and ran.

• • •

She could have been called back for running, called back and made to report even more points off to Rush, but she had begun to run so instinctively that she had not cared about the rule by the time she knew she was running; and Miss Nicky, perhaps pleased that she should speed to her doom, did not halt her.

Ever since Martha had returned the ring minus the blue stone to Rush, both she and Mary Drew had waited for Rush’s promised revenge. Apart from the bore they thought she was, both knew her certain uncanny cleverness, her patience, and her power among the Chillam girls. Those three things were her forte.

Now she was in Rush’s hands, and there was no way to tell Mary Drew. Because Mary Drew had been assigned to make the Christmas wreaths in the Craft House, where there were two faculty members, six other girls, and a No Admittance posted. It was another Chillam tradition that only those involved in making the wreaths were to see them before the unveiling at the Christmas party.

The halls in Old House were named after martyrs, and Rush lived along St. Stephen, who was stoned to death for blasphemy. So St. Stephen hall had been come to be called “Goddam,” and Evelyn lived at 7 Goddam.

When Martha arrived at “Goddam” she heard voices. The door was pulled to, but ajar, and Martha heard Beth Dragmore say, “… nothing ever has to
you!
Oh, you’re cruel, Rush.”

Rush said something Martha could not hear.

Then, Beth: “And how pompous you are about them all! All of them, trophies!”

“Why do you make a scene? Can’t your pride prevent it?” Rush’s voice.

“Pride!” Beth was screaming now, near hysteria. “What do you care — about anything, you damned — ” and there was the sound of flesh striking flesh, the quick whip-snap sound of a cracking slap. Then, a slow second of silence.

Rush’s voice broke the silence. “Get out.”

Martha anticipated more words, but before she could move back down “Goddam,” the door swung open, and Beth Dragmore, tears streaming down her face, one side of it red-burned where she held her hand to comfort the aching, spun into the hall. She faced Martha head-on, and in that instant of recognition, her eyes widened, she stopped short. Then she said, with weepy-sounding words, “Oh yes, Rush has your revenge planned too!” Her eyes sharpened then to two little brown needles and she hissed a single word, as though she were too full with emotion to frame it into a sentence. She said, “Hate!”

She ran blindly on down St. Stephen’s hall, and Martha found herself looking straight at Rush.

“Is this a Christmas call?” Rush said.

“Not exactly, no. I’m reporting to you. You’re Senior in charge?”

“Yes,” Rush said, “Come on in.”

Martha followed her into the small, compact room like all Seniors’, one of the cherished Senior Singles. In the window was a saint’s head, a prop left over from one of the miracle plays. At Chillam it was part of the Christmas tradition to hang them in the window.

“Sit down,” Rush said, “and make yourself comfortable. Would you like some Christmas cakes?”

She reached for a box in her bureau and passed it to Martha. She said, “Every year at Christmas my mother sends them to me, for the faculty and any of the girls who can’t go to their families for the holidays. I’m very fond of them myself. I have a hard time not eating them all up before I’ve passed them on.”

Martha reached for one gingerly, trying to figure Rush’s mood. But the handsome face, with the twist of hair across the forehead and the winning smile, gave no clue. But for some reason, Martha did not feel afraid. Rush seemed all right — pleasant, impersonal.

“Now what did you want to report to me about?”

Martha told her then, straight-forwardly, and Rush propped herself on the side of the desk with her arms folded, just listening. When Martha was finished, Rush sighed. “Those candy statues,” she said, “they are rather irresistible.” She gave a little chuckle. “Miss Nicky’s a quick one.”

“I never thought two missing would make so much difference,” Martha offered.

“Oh, you know Miss Nicky. She’s so hipped on Chillam tradition.”

“Yes,” said Martha, knowing no one really loved Chillam more than Rush, “I know.”

“I am too, rather.” She pointed
at
the window. “Do you like St. Thomas?”

“Oh, yes. He’s — very good!”

“I’m fond of Chillam and Christmas both. Where I come from, in Northern England, there’s a thing we do at Christmas.” From behind her on the desk, Rush reached for a piece of holly. “We put a sprig of this under our pillows, and then we say this (she looked closely at Martha Kent): “We say,

She set the holly back and looked again at Martha. “Have you ever been in love?”

Martha didn’t answer right away and Rush said, “Oh, I don’t mean a crush, or anything like that. You know. I mean,
in love.”

She didn’t wait for Martha to answer but stood then, making her hands into fists in the side pockets of her black sports pants and said, “Oh, I know, Martha, we haven’t done well together, you and I. Silly things, these intrigues and misunderstandings. At Christmas, I feel the intrigues —
all
these
silly
things — should be passed by. Christmas is time to be close — in a friendly sense…. You don’t have to answer me, but I wonder. Have you?”

Martha said, “Have
you?”
She was thinking as she listened to Rush how she would tell Mary Drew what an utter fool she was; and she was glad that it was Christmas, to bring out all this awful sentimentality in Rush.

“Yes, I have. I’ve been with a man, you know,” Rush said.

“You’re an
idiot,”
Martha thought!
“Who’d want to be with a man?”
Then for the smallest part of a second, she found herself wondering:
“Has Mary Drew ever done that?”

Martha said, “Did you love him then?”

Rush with a man! Oh, what a preposterous image to conjure up!

“He loved me,” Rush said, “but love is a silly word to use between a man and a woman…. No, it was simply that he wanted to tame me. He was a great horseman, actually excellent. He could ride a very spirited horse the first time, and return from the ride with the horse wholly submissive. He could dominate an animal like no one I ever knew, and I rather suppose that’s what he intended for me.” She gave a short grunt of a laugh. “The curious thing was I had no intention of putting up any fight. I’d always wondered about men and I wanted to see. He was like a military parade, with perfect precision, marching and countermarching in the exact way the performance is to be carried out. The only thing was he didn’t have an appreciative audience. I thought he was quite a fool. He began by kissing me, and then — just as though there could be no variation or it wouldn’t be right — he put his hand here for awhile, then here, then here, then here — and finally, the
coup de grace!”
She shook with laughter. “Men!” she said. “At seventeen I know all I want to know about them, and probably a great deal more than I need to know to be the perfect wife and mother.”

“Would you marry, then?” Martha said.

“Doesn’t every woman eventually?” Rush reached for a slice of cake, stuffing it into her mouth. “But I won’t ever take it seriously. I won’t ever love a man.”

“Then
what?”

“You mean
who,”
Rush said, “Don’t you?” “Well — ”

“Ah, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves, Martha. You were to report to me for points off. Hmm?” “Yes.”

“And I shan’t give you any, if you answer my question:
Were
you ever in love?”

“I think men are disgusting and silly,” Martha said, picturing Roddy in her mind’s eye.

Rush sauntered across to the straight-back wooden chair, slumped into it, and put one leg up on the bed, still munching on the cake. She answered, “Of course, but you didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t think I could love anyone who was disgusting or silly,” said Martha.

“And Mary Drew isn’t either one of those things, is she?”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, you could be in love with Mary Drew, couldn’t you?”

Martha gave a guffaw. “She’s a woman.”

“Are you that naive, Martha?” Rush looked up at her with her lips tipping to that sly grin of hers. “Come now, confess. Aren’t you in love with Mary Drew?”

“You’re the one who’s silly now.”

“Am I? And am I silly to imagine that Beth Drag-more’s in love with me?”

“You
are
conceited! And silly!”

Rush’s face reddened. She was actually angry. “Do you know that Beth told me she would kill herself if I didn’t go back with her?”

Martha laughed, thinking how preposterous Rush’s ego was; how silly it was, all of this … this crush of Rush’s and Beth’s.

“Hold on,” Rush said, sitting up straight. “You
are
naive.” She got up and went to her bureau, opened a small leather box and rummaged through it. From it she picked out a piece of paper, worn thin with age and handling and folded double. She unfolded it and faced Martha. “Do you know who saw you steal the candies?”

“Miss Nicky.”

“No, Martha,
I
saw you steal them, and immediately after,
I
asked to replace Anna Swanson. I also reported you, and had you sent here by Miss Nicky. You may as well read this too.”

She passed the paper to Martha, and Martha took it, then read this: