Annie on My Mind by Nancy Garden

Author:Nancy Garden [Garden, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf, azw3
Tags: Romance, young adult, Social Issues, Love & Romance, Juvenile Fiction, Homosexuality
ISBN: 9780374404147
Google: cB-aQgAACAAJ
Amazon: 0374400113
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Published: 1982-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

10

Finally the dreary cold winter warmed up and leaves started bursting out on the trees. Daffodils and tulips and those blue flowers that grow in clusters on stiff stems began to pop up all over the Heights, and Annie and I spent much more time outdoors, which helped a little. Annie discovered more dooryard gardens—even on my own street—than I ever thought existed. We managed to go for a lot of walks that spring, even though Annie was very busy with rehearsals for a new recital and I was trying to finish my senior project and was helping Sally and Walt with the fund drive—things really did look pretty bad for Foster.

Late one afternoon a week and a half before spring vacation, Mrs. Poindexter called me into her office. “Eliza,” she said, settling back into her brown chair and actually almost smiling. “Eliza, I have been most pleased with your conduct these last months. You have shown none of the immaturity that steered you so wrongly last fall; your grades have, as usual, been excellent, and Ms. Baxter reports to me that you have at last begun to show an interest in the fund drive. Needless to say, your record is now clear.”

“Mrs. Poindexter,” I asked after I recovered from the relief I felt, “is it true that Foster might have to close?”

Mrs. Poindexter gave me a long look. Then she sighed and said—gently—”I’m afraid it is, dear.” Mrs. Poindexter had never called anyone “dear” as far as I knew. Certainly never me. “Eliza, you have been going to Foster since kindergarten. That’s nearly thirteen years—almost your entire lifetime. Some of our teachers have been here much longer—I myself have been headmistress for twenty-five years.”

“It would be awful,” I said, suddenly feeling sorry for her, “if Foster had to close.”

Mrs. Poindexter sniffed and fingered her glasses chain. “We have tried to make it the best possible school. We have never had the money to compete with schools like Brearley, but …” She smiled and reached out, patting my hand. “But this needn’t concern you, although I appreciate your sympathy. What I need from you—what Foster needs from you,” she said, squaring her shoulders, “is a heightened participation in the fund drive. You as student council president have enormous influence—a certain public influence as well, I may say. If you could have, if you would use your position advantageously.” I licked my lips: if she was going to ask me to make speeches, I was going to have to use every bit of self-control I had not to say no. Making just the required campaign speeches after I was nominated for council president had been one of the hardest things I’d ever done. Even when I had to get up in front of English class and give an oal report, I always felt as if I were going to my execution. “The fund drive,” said Mrs. Poindexter, picking up her desk calendar, “must be speeded up—we have so little time now before the end of school.

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