me that you wrote a skit based on Cinderella for the eighth grade when you had Timmy in the class. Timmy wasn’t—very well when he mentioned this Cindy. I’m wondering if he could have meant the girl who played the part in the play.”
“Whatever has happened to Cindy Kirschner, Mr. Howard? Such a shy, sweet child. And those dreadful teeth.”
“The teeth have been fixed. She’s married to a man named Pat Rorick and she has a couple of kids.”
“That’s good to hear. The other children used to be horrible to her. They can be little animals at times.”
“Do you remember who played the part of Cindy in the skit?”
“Of course I remember. I remember because it was sort of an experiment. Her name was Antoinette Rasi. Wait a moment. I’ll show you something.” She went into the other room. She was gone nearly five minutes. She came back with a glossy photograph.
“I had a friend help me sort these out after I learned Braille. I’ve marked them all so I know this is the right one. It’s a graduation picture. I’ve kept the graduation pictures of all my classes, though what use I have for pictures, I’ll never know.”
She handed it to me and said, “I believe Antoinette is in the back row toward the left. Look for a girl with a great mass of black hair and a pretty, rather sullen face. I don’t imagine she was smiling.”
“I think I’ve found her.”
“Antoinette was a problem. She was a little older than the others. Half French and half Italian. She resented discipline. She was a rowdy, a troublemaker. But I liked the child and I thought I understood her. Her people were very poor and I don’t think she got much attention at home. She had an older brother who had been in trouble with the police and I believe an older sister. She came to school inadequately dressed when the weather was cold. She had a lot of spirit. She was a very alive person. I think she was sensitive, but she hid it verycarefully. I can’t help but wonder sometimes what has happened to the child. The Rasis lived north of the city where the river widens out. I believe that Mr. Rasi had a boat and bait business in the summer and did odd jobs in the wintertime. Their house was a shack. I went out there once after Antoinette had missed a whole week of school. I found she hadn’t come because she had a black eye. Her brother gave it to her. I gave her the part of Cinderella in an attempt to get her to take more interest in class activities. I’m afraid it was a mistake. I believe she thought it was a reflection on the way she lived.”
“Was Timmy friendly with her?”
“Quite friendly. I sometimes wondered if that was a good thing. She seemed quite—precocious in some departments. And Timmy was a very sweet boy.”
“He could have called her Cindy because of the skit?”
“I imagine so. Children dote on nicknames. I remember one poor little boy with a sinus condition. The other children made him unhappy by calling him Rumblehead.”
“I want to thank you for your help, Miss Major.”
“I hope the information is of some use to you. When you find Antoinette, tell her I asked about her.”
“I’ll do that.”
She went with me to the door. She said, “They’re bringing me a new Braille student at four. He seems to be a little late. Mr. Howard, are you in some kind of trouble?”
The abrupt
non sequitur
startled me. “Trouble? Yes, I’m in trouble. Bad trouble.”
“I won’t give you any chin-up lecture, Mr. Howard. I’ve been given too much of that myself. I was just checking my own reactions. I sensed trouble. An aura of worry. As with that Mr. Fitzmartin I detected an aura of directed evil.”
When I got out in front, a woman was helping a young boy out of a car. The boy wore dark glasses. His mouth had an ill-tempered look, and I heard the whine in his voice as he complained about something to her.
I felt that I had discovered Cindy. There had been a hint as to what she was like in the very tone of
“Whatever has happened to Cindy Kirschner, Mr. Howard? Such a shy, sweet child. And those dreadful teeth.”
“The teeth have been fixed. She’s married to a man named Pat Rorick and she has a couple of kids.”
“That’s good to hear. The other children used to be horrible to her. They can be little animals at times.”
“Do you remember who played the part of Cindy in the skit?”
“Of course I remember. I remember because it was sort of an experiment. Her name was Antoinette Rasi. Wait a moment. I’ll show you something.” She went into the other room. She was gone nearly five minutes. She came back with a glossy photograph.
“I had a friend help me sort these out after I learned Braille. I’ve marked them all so I know this is the right one. It’s a graduation picture. I’ve kept the graduation pictures of all my classes, though what use I have for pictures, I’ll never know.”
She handed it to me and said, “I believe Antoinette is in the back row toward the left. Look for a girl with a great mass of black hair and a pretty, rather sullen face. I don’t imagine she was smiling.”
“I think I’ve found her.”
“Antoinette was a problem. She was a little older than the others. Half French and half Italian. She resented discipline. She was a rowdy, a troublemaker. But I liked the child and I thought I understood her. Her people were very poor and I don’t think she got much attention at home. She had an older brother who had been in trouble with the police and I believe an older sister. She came to school inadequately dressed when the weather was cold. She had a lot of spirit. She was a very alive person. I think she was sensitive, but she hid it verycarefully. I can’t help but wonder sometimes what has happened to the child. The Rasis lived north of the city where the river widens out. I believe that Mr. Rasi had a boat and bait business in the summer and did odd jobs in the wintertime. Their house was a shack. I went out there once after Antoinette had missed a whole week of school. I found she hadn’t come because she had a black eye. Her brother gave it to her. I gave her the part of Cinderella in an attempt to get her to take more interest in class activities. I’m afraid it was a mistake. I believe she thought it was a reflection on the way she lived.”
“Was Timmy friendly with her?”
“Quite friendly. I sometimes wondered if that was a good thing. She seemed quite—precocious in some departments. And Timmy was a very sweet boy.”
“He could have called her Cindy because of the skit?”
“I imagine so. Children dote on nicknames. I remember one poor little boy with a sinus condition. The other children made him unhappy by calling him Rumblehead.”
“I want to thank you for your help, Miss Major.”
“I hope the information is of some use to you. When you find Antoinette, tell her I asked about her.”
“I’ll do that.”
She went with me to the door. She said, “They’re bringing me a new Braille student at four. He seems to be a little late. Mr. Howard, are you in some kind of trouble?”
The abrupt
non sequitur
startled me. “Trouble? Yes, I’m in trouble. Bad trouble.”
“I won’t give you any chin-up lecture, Mr. Howard. I’ve been given too much of that myself. I was just checking my own reactions. I sensed trouble. An aura of worry. As with that Mr. Fitzmartin I detected an aura of directed evil.”
When I got out in front, a woman was helping a young boy out of a car. The boy wore dark glasses. His mouth had an ill-tempered look, and I heard the whine in his voice as he complained about something to her.
I felt that I had discovered Cindy. There had been a hint as to what she was like in the very tone of
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