I rose slowly, or it seemed I did. I was in such a daze, so terrified, I wasn’t sure of anything. It also felt as if I were floating across his office to the doorway. I returned to the seat I’d had in the outer office to wait for Cassie. I knew exactly what she would say.
“See, see, I told you it would turn our world topsy-turvy!”
Topsy-Turvy
CASSIE SAID NOTHING to me when she came to the office. She glanced at me and then went directly to the counter to get the letter for Daddy that Mrs. Whitman had already typed up, copied, and put in an envelope. It was as if Cassie had done this many times. I watched how cool and unemotional she was. Anyone else who didn’t know us would surely think she worked for the school and had no special interest or relationship with this particular student being punished.
“I’m Cassie Heavenstone,” she told Mrs. Whitman.
Mrs. Whitman explained what was in the letter and that it was very important that our father read it.
“Keeping it from him won’t help your sister,” she added.
Cassie pulled her shoulders and head back as though Mrs. Whitman had tried to slap her. “Why would I do that? I don’t appreciate your insinuation.”
“I’m … just … giving you good advice.”
Cassie took the envelope and put it in her purse. “Is that all? Are we finished here?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Whitman said.
Cassie nodded at me, and I stood up, glanced at Mrs. Whitman, who looked a little shocked, and followed Cassie out. She was walking quickly toward the exit, so I had to hurry to catch up.
“I really dislike that woman,” she muttered as if nothing else had occurred. “As Daddy would say, she thinks her poop doesn’t smell.” She paused at the door and looked at me. “You don’t have to tell me anything. What you did in homeroom shot through this school so fast it might as well have been a breaking news bulletin on CNN.”
Before I could respond, she threw the door open and charged out to the parking lot. Again, I had to run to keep up.
“I’m sorry they called you out of class, Cassie.”
“I don’t mind missing classes,” she muttered. “Most of the time, I’m so ahead of everyone else, I have to sit there thinking of things to do for Daddy and the stores. I actually welcome being called out, even for something like this. Get in,” she ordered when we reached the car.
I moved quickly. She sat for a moment, thinking.
“I’m not returning to school today. It’s my responsibility to remain with you. I’m the only adult available,” she said. Only adult? I thought. She’s not old enough to be called that. “All right,” she said, starting the engine. “Let’s hear about it.”
I began to describe what Roxanne Peters had said and how she was persistent and mean. Cassie listened without commenting. In fact, she was silent for quite a while after I had finished telling her why I had done what I had done and how Mr. Hastings had spoken to me. I feared she was too angry at me to speak.
“It’s not your
fault,” she finally began. I breathed a sigh of relief about that, until she added, “It’s Mother’s fault.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s what I call an echo.” She kept her face forward, talking as if she was dictating to someone. “When you do something wrong, terribly wrong, it has consequences that sometimes don’t roll out for a while but nevertheless are directly caused by what you have done. This is, I’m afraid, only the beginning for us, at least for a while.”
“Only the beginning? Why?”
“Daddy will have to suffer through all the condolences from his business associates. It will spread rapidly through our employee population, and every time he enters one of our stores, they will look at him with pity. No one will try that with me in my classes, but I know they’ll be whispering behind my back. I don’t pay attention to any of them as it is, so it will be like nothing’s happening, but it’s different for poor Daddy. He has to face these people daily, and it will be painful.”
She finally turned to me.
“A man like Daddy doesn’t ever want pity. It’s degrading, especially when it comes from people so inferior. The Heavenstones have always been strong, proud people, even when they lost so much after the Civil War. They didn’t grovel or beg for mercy. They grew stronger and stronger, until we became who we are today.
“I’m not saying what you did was okay, Semantha. It was … childish. There are so many more sophisticated ways to get back at someone, ways in which you can make that person look like the guilty one, in fact. I hope that when you’re older, you’ll be more creative. Throwing someone’s desk over on them, although satisfying for the moment, is not very effective. You should have bitten down on your lip, waited, and come to me later. I’m sure I could have helped you do something far more effective.”
“Daddy will be so upset with me when he hears about all this,” I moaned.
“Yes, he will, but I’ll handle it much better than whatever Mr. Hastings wrote in his dumb letter. I’m sure it’s something standard, a boilerplate discipline letter in which he might just fill in your name. He never struck me as being much of a brain.”