The World of Henry Orient by Nora Johnson

Author:Nora Johnson
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Pickle Partners Publishing
Published: 2016-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

Days at Norton had again taken on the cast they had when I had hidden in the nook each morning. No one met me at prison, no one had lunch with me, except occasionally Lilian, and there was no one to impress with my growing literacy. However, there was a change. I first felt it at the annual Christmas pageant, the last day before vacation. I stood backstage, looking at the previously omniscient Eights in their white dresses lined up to march across the stage, and I began to feel that they weren’t so omniscient after all. I might be the only one in this whole group without a skeleton in the closet, I thought. What’s a divorce? Nothing, when you think of some things that people don’t tell you about. Wimpole’s normal, and my father is too, except that he hates restaurants. My father was such a dim figure, I could hardly say whether he was normal or not; but he seemed to be. For the first time I could remember, I had a slight feeling of superiority.

The Eights lined up and marched across the stage in twos, down the steps, and up the aisles. The assembly hall was decked with pine and holly, and there was an enormous wreath on the back wall of the stage, and each of us carried a lighted taper. Sang the Eights:

“Masters in this hall, hear ye news today

Brought from oversea, and ever I you pray.

Noel! Noel! Noel! Noel sing we clear!

Holpen are all folk on earth.

Born is God’s son so dear!”

The tramp of feet shook the stage, and I found myself with Sylvia Van Dyke, the most impressive girl in the class. She was beautiful, she was Class President, she got high marks, and her mother had thousands of phone numbers. Sylvia’s every week end was filled with tulle, flowers, tuxedos and laughter. But, I reminded myself, her father might be a dope addict. Or Sylvia herself might have screaming fits in the night. Who knows? I was sure of myself, but not of Sylvia, and this unwarranted state of affairs made me want to laugh.

“Noel! Noel! Noel! Noel sing we loud!

God today hath poor folk raised,

And cast a-down the proud.”

Isn’t it wonderful what Christmas can do? I thought. I’m alone, but I don’t really mind so much. I looked up; the hall was breathtaking, with candles flickering over the rows of faces, and the smell of pine. Just at this moment, I love Norton, and everybody in it. Maybe in a minute I won’t, but just now I do. Sylvia and I marched across the stage, carefully in step, our white dresses swishing. Here go Sylvia and I, just two girls, dressed the same, walking in step, both of us with the same chance at life.

“God today hath poor folk raised,

And cast a-down the proud.”

We sat in our assigned section, and I spotted Wimpole across the room, with the rest of the parents. She was all furry, with a small green hat on, and she raised a hand in solemn greeting.

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