Ann-Marie MacDonald - Way the Crow Flies

Madeleine ignores it, even though she can see other kids poised to run, waiting for her to pass on the germs to one of them, then hastily give herself a needle. She does not. She goes round the corner of the school, touches the stucco wall to get rid of the germs, then quietly inoculates herself, murmuring, “Needle.”

Grace doesn’t seem to notice that no one likes her. She grins to herself and sucks her thumb, then rubs her lips to wet them. She picks her nose and eats it, there is no other way to put it. If you had just arrived from Mars, you might think Grace was pretty. Enormous blue eyes like a doll’s, and naturally wavy hair which is sandy streaked with blonde; imagine it clean. Her lips a perfect Cupid’s bow; picture them not chapped. Then imagine Grace actually looking at you. Without her eyes swerving and her hands twisting her grimy cuffs.

It was mean of Marjorie to start the needle craze, but it was clear before then that Grace was destined to be the class reject. On Tuesday afternoon she ate Elmer’s Glue paste from the pink blotting paper you get for art. And on Wednesday she picked her nose and wiped it on her desk in front of everyone. Mr. March made her stay after three for “remedial hygiene.” Madeleine glances up at the felt bulletin board. No wonder Grace has nothing but smiling tortoises next to her name in every subject.

“Turn to page sixteen in your Girl Next Door reader,” says Mr. March, and they all get out their books. “Madeleine McCarthy, read from where we left off.” While many kids dread reading aloud, Madeleine loves it, so she is glad to hear her name. She opens the book and reads flawlessly, “‘Muscles and Ice Cream’….” The story is about Susan, a girl in a wheelchair, who goes to the hospital so she will be able to walk again. “… one of the nurses showed us the exercises. She kept saying, ‘Try hard, Susan, and soon you will have big, strong muscles, but now you get some ice cream.’” Madeleine pictures Elizabeth standing up, muscles bulging like Hercules, shattering her wheelchair. She reads on, “‘If you want big, strong muscles, I’ll show you how to get them,’ Bill said….” Bill is one of those imaginary older boys who are nice to girls. Everyone knows boys are not like that. Ricky Froelich is, but he’s different. “‘Bill showed Nancy a good way to build strong muscles.’”

“Thank you, Miss McCarthy,” says Mr. March, and continues up the row with his pointer — when he taps a desk, that person has to start reading. Everyone prays he will not tap Grace’s desk, because Grace has to sound everything out. He taps Lisa’s desk.

Lisa reads, barely above a whisper. Mr. March keeps saying, “Speak up, little girl,” but Lisa gets softer and softer, her face redder and redder, until finally she stops and stares at her desk. Madeleine is worried Lisa may have to stay after school for “remedial reading.” Or worse, be demoted from dolphin to tortoise.

Mr. March taps Grace’s desk. An audible groan from the class. Grace hunches over her book and reads, “Wha-at gamms … games do you of-ten p-l-ay that gy … gi-ve you-r mus … moose … musk….”

“Class, what’s the word?” intones Mr. March.

And the class chants in unison, “Muscles.”

Please don’t make Grace sound out the word “exercise.”

“Gordon Lawson, continue reading please.”

Thank goodness. Gordon is an all-round hare.

During recess, Madeleine and Auriel console Lisa, who is still trembling, so when they return to the classroom Madeleine is shocked to see that she herself has been demoted from hare to tortoise. In Reading. What’s up, doc?

Mr. March must have noticed her dismay because after everyone has sat down he says, “It’s for your own good, little girl. Reading aloud is one thing. Comprehension is quite another. That takes concentration.”

Concentration . Madeleine feels slightly ill. A tortoise. No fair. How can she get back up to hares? After school she will tell her dad. He’ll know what to do.

Don’t dwell on it right now. It’s Friday afternoon and the beautiful kindergarten teacher has come into the classroom.

“Hello grade fours, my name is Miss Lang.”

“Hello, Miss Lang,” says everyone.

She is here to announce the beginning of Brownies. The boys refrain from sniggering, she is that pretty. “How many Sixers do we have in the class?”

Several girls raise their hands, among them Cathy Baxter — no surprise, she having emerged as the boss of the girly-girls — and Marjorie Nolan, who has neither emerged nor settled yet in any group. Madeleine is not a Sixer, she is not even a Seconder, she prefers to be a lone wolf in Brownies and not have to inspect anyone’s nails or keep track of dimes — the nifty notebook with pencil attached notwithstanding. Maybe this year they will get to go on a camping trip. She looks at Miss Lang in her A-line dress and pictures her sitting cross-legged roasting a wiener over a campfire.

“Oh my,” says Miss Lang at the show of hands, “it looks as though we have quite a few chiefs and not enough Indians.”

The class laughs sincerely. She has a beautiful figure. But more than that, Miss Lang has charm. What incredible luck that she, and not just someone’s boring old mother, is Brown Owl—“bird of great good fortune.” Like the albatross.

“How many of you expect to fly up this spring?” she asks. All the girls raise their hand, even Grace. She ought to have flown up to Guides by now, or at least walked up. But then she ought to be in grade five too. There are no Brownie badges for cutting the cuffs off your own cardigan with a pair of school scissors.

“Good,” says Miss Lang, in her voice that reminds Madeleine of a jazz record they have at home: Vibes on Velvet . The cover is “adult”: a lot of half-naked chorus girls in a burlesque pose. Burlesque . It sounds like barbecued shrimp, and it means sexy but not really dirty. The album cover is, however, way dirtier than the Sears catalogue, even though the amount of bare skin is about the same. Perhaps that’s because the ladies on the album cover know they are being sexy, whereas the Sears underwear ladies look as though they think they are fully clothed — hmm, think I’ll just hang out the wash in my living bra.

“Madeleine McCarthy?”

Everyone is looking at her, especially beautiful Miss Lang. Madeleine reddens and says, “Pleasant. I mean present.”

The class bursts out laughing. Up at his desk, Mr. March rolls his eyes. Oh no, I’m going to get it. Again .

Miss Lang smiles. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Yes to what? Oh no .

But Miss Lang isn’t angry. She has a way of making any girl she talks to seem pretty. When she says, “We’ll have you flying up this spring, Grace, I know it,” in that moment even Grace Novotny seems clean.

At five to three Mr. March stands up and announces, “The following little girls will remain after three …,” and he consults his seating plan. “Grace Novotny …” No one is surprised. Grace is a tortoise only because there is no worm category. Madeleine wonders why Mr. March has to look at his seating plan in order to remember her name when this is her second year in his class. “… and Madeleine McCarthy.” His glasses are still trained on his clipboard.

Madeleine is immediately hot. Her legs, her face — what have I done? I daydreamed about Miss Lang. I pictured her in a bra. But I read perfectly — Susan and her stupid muscles. It’s bad enough to be demoted to tortoise. But to be kept after three….

The bell goes. The rest of the class rattle to their feet; already the smell of failure is clouding around Madeleine’s desk as she remains seated. She has been paired with Grace Novotny. Madeleine germs, needle! Auriel catches her eye as she leaves and Madeleine grins and draws a cut-throat finger across her neck.