in your bag?’
I stiffened. Our PE kit consisted of a very tight and unflattering T-shirt, with the world’s shortest, most terrifying shorts. Lap dancers wouldn’t wear our shorts. Our school made us dress extremely conservatively, but for gym, tiny tees and butt-kerchiefs were considered healthy. It was a trauma, but it was a trauma we went through together, and it never left the gym.
‘I would like you to go to the ladies’ room and put it on,’ she said. ‘You will wear it for the rest of the day. I will call the office and let them know this is acceptable. Please do keep your school shoes on, though.’
I rose with all the dignity I could muster, smiled at the people who snickered, and made my way to the bathroom.
I spent the rest of the day walking around school in tiny shorts, kneesocks, and saddle shoes. Ally was nowhere to be found. It would have been completely understandable if she was avoiding me. It was hard to believe that I could have compounded the problem — but no one will ever say that Jane Jarvis isn’t an innovator.
Calculus II was my last class of the day. I had it with only one other person, Cassie Malloy. It was kind of a special thing; they offered it just to us. We didn’t even use a classroom. We sat in Brother Frank’s office, which was no more than an elaborate broom closet on the third floor, just big enough for a desk and two chairs. Still, the intimacy gave it a real scholastic feel.
Cassie took in my outfit in a brief glance and decided not to comment.
‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘Who did you get? Oh my God. You probably got, like, five offers. I only got one, and I don’t even think she knew who I was. Are you going to spend a lot of time with yours? Because I have, like, no time right now.’
She reached into her bag, pulled out a slim thermos, and took a long gulp of coffee. The caffeine was no good for her — it made her hands shake mildly. But she needed it. Cassie didn’t sleep. She was a hard worker. I had long speculated that she would be dead by thirty in an attempt to do medical and law school at the same time.
‘How late were you up doing this?’ she asked, flipping through her notebook, through page after page of neatly written equations. Cassie did them in order, step by step, six to a page. I pulled out my own work — a collection of scribblings written on some paper from our printer’s recycling box.
‘Oh… a while,’ I lied, looking at the work I had done while watching TV.
At least Cassie wasn’t asking me about Allison. I wasn’t sure she was asking me anything. She produced a pen from her wildly sproingy hair and hurriedly scribbled something in her Filofax while she was talking. Whether I was there or not was probably irrelevant.
‘They do this at the worst time. I mean, I’m doing SATs again on Saturday. Fourth time. God! Are you doing them again? I seriously have no time to spend with this girl. I’m just going to get her a teddy bear or something and that’s it. Do you like yours?’
And then, Cassie screamed, a particularly high-pitched, nerve-jangling scream. Which made me scream. Screams are catchy. I followed Cassie’s gaze to a tiny black-veiled head in the doorway.
‘I see PANTIES!’ it shrieked. ‘I see blue panties!’
Cassie clapped her legs tightly together. The head snapped out of sight.
‘God,’ she wheezed. ‘Why does she do that?’
Sister Rose Marie would pop her head into classrooms at random, examine the horizon, and look for people sitting in a manner that exposed underwear. This shock attack was supposed to make us more ladylike. It just made us paranoid. For one moment that day, I was glad to be wearing my shorts.
Brother Frank, our teacher, came in. I liked Brother Frank the most out of all my teachers. He was brilliant, for a start, and Irish (though his accent flitted in and out like bad radio reception), and he had a shock of gray hair that stuck up straight from his head, the way really good mathematicians should.
Something was wrong today, though — his huge salt-and-pepper eyebrows were knitting themselves together and unwinding again. He dropped himself down in his chair heavily.
‘Cassie,’ he said. ‘Sister Charles needs some help this period. She isn’t feeling well because of all the heat. She need someone to watch over her freshman English class for a period while they workshop their papers. Would you mind giving her a hand? It’s just for this period. Downstairs, room 3A.’
Cassie looked shocked. There was something decidedly odd about this — but being asked to help teach another class was a temptation that Cassie couldn’t possibly pass up. When she was gone, Brother Frank shut the door.
‘New uniform?’ he asked.
‘I just think this is more flattering,’ I said.
He didn’t laugh. This was troubling.
‘Your friend Allison,’ he said. ‘How is she?’
‘She’ll be okay,’ I said. ‘Someday.’
He nodded.
‘That was very unfortunate. I’m sure she’s upset. I’ve never taught her. I take it math isn’t her strong suit?’
‘She doesn’t really have a strong suit,’ I said honestly. ‘She’s kind of, you know.’
‘A normal student,’ he said. ‘Unlike you.’
It had never been said so bluntly.
‘Let’s not dance around the subject, Jane,’ he said. ‘You’re not a normal student. You don’t have a normal mind. You have an exceptional one. This class, for instance. I’ve had to pace it for Cassie, and I think I might kill her as it is. We’re about to enter some topics in abstract algebra, which, to be perfectly honest, are never, ever attempted on a high school level. This is what I teach my second years at MIT.’
I felt my cheeks glow a little. Praise from Brother Frank actually meant something. It was nice to be having this cozy little moment together on this otherwise tragic day. Maybe he knew I needed a pick-me-up.
‘We need to talk, Jane,’ he said. ‘That’s why I asked Cassie to leave.’
‘About what?’
‘About what it means to be here, at St. Teresa’s,’ he said. ‘It would be unfortunate if the only developments you made here were academic. We need to talk about how you’re going to apply your talents to this world. I know that you don’t believe in everything this school stands for and teaches…’
‘Are you talking about religion class?’ I asked. ‘Okay. I debate with Mr. Jenkle every once in a while.’
‘According to the guidance report, you called him a crypto-fascist during a discussion on reproductive rights in class yesterday.’
‘Well,’ I said, looking up at the ceiling. ‘Yeah, I kind of did that.’
‘Look, Jane,’ he said. ‘I happen to agree with you on many of those issues, but that isn’t the point. The point is, Jane…’
