watches public television.”
After I sat down, I didn’t look at Sister Louise or Carly during our fathers’ absence. I didn’t want to read what was on their faces. I was scared that it would be victory or sympathy or something equally pathetic.
But all the same my heart was beating fast at the thought of Michael Andretti coming to defend me. He hadn’t needed to. He had said once before that he owed me nothing. But whether he did or not, he had come through.
When the door opened, Ron Bishop walked out first, looking red-faced and defensive.
“Well, I think we’ve got that settled,” Michael Andretti said, putting his glasses back on.
“Get your things, Carly,” her father ordered.
“Are we suing, Dad?”
“Get your things.”
I looked at them both and then up to Michael.
“Anything else?” he asked.
I nodded.
“He has my
Concepts of Science
.”
“My daughter’s book, thank you,” he said briskly.
When the Bishops left, Sister Louise adjusted the chairs and gave us room.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Andretti.”
“Likewise,” he said with a smile. For once his dimples served the right purpose. “By the way, Josie informed me she was looking forward to suspension so she could have a holiday. I hope you won’t give her that satisfaction.”
I seethed with embarrassment and avoided looking at both of them.
“Josephine, dear, come here.”
I wonder why nuns always sound so sarcastic when they say “dear.”
Sister Louise opened a drawer and I looked in.
“What do you see?”
“Applications.”
“Yes, dear. Dating back to 1980. Every lunchtime till the job is complete you’ll come in and put them into alphabetical order. You’ll find it good for the soul, dear.”
“Thank you, Sister.”
“You are suspended for the rest of the day, though.”
I nodded and walked out with Michael Andretti at the same time that the bell rang.
Everyone walked past me taking great interest.
“So how was court today?” I asked at the top of my voice.
Michael Andretti looked around, seeming uncomfortable with the attention, and gave me a great spiel about his day in court. I heard the whispers of excitement, knowing how impressive he sounded.
I walked past my classmates with Michael Andretti beside me and for a few minutes I knew how it felt walking alongside one’s father.
It was a great feeling.
Nine
USUALLY ON FRIDAYS Sister Louise calls Poison Ivy and me into her office to keep us up-to-date with what’s going on. Sister Louise and I don’t get on very well, as you’ve probably worked out. Nothing verbal, though. That’s the trouble, I suppose. We just look at each other untrustingly and don’t say a thing. But I do respect her.
She’s not like the nuns we had in primary school. I don’t think any nun is like that anymore. We call them the penguins because of them wearing wimples and all that
Sound of
Music
gear. Except they really don’t look like that anymore. They’re liberated. I think that during the seventies when women were burning their bras, nuns were burning their habits.
They no longer go around saying, “Bless you, my child,” or, “God will punish you for your sinful ways,” like the nuns of my kindergarten year did. I mean, how can a five-year-old have “sinful” ways?
I remember when I was young I used to wonder if they had parents like us or if they’d hatched out of some church. I wondered all kinds of crazy things, like did they go to the bathroom or did they think bad thoughts.
The first time I saw a nun without a habit, I prayed for her, thinking that she’d go to hell. But I think Sister Louise made me change my mind. I’ve never met a more liberated woman in my life and I realize now that these women do not live in cloistered worlds far away from reality. They know reality better than we do. I just wonder whether she was ever boy-crazy.
After our usual boring discussion during which Poison Ivy crawled to Sister and Sister took it
After I sat down, I didn’t look at Sister Louise or Carly during our fathers’ absence. I didn’t want to read what was on their faces. I was scared that it would be victory or sympathy or something equally pathetic.
But all the same my heart was beating fast at the thought of Michael Andretti coming to defend me. He hadn’t needed to. He had said once before that he owed me nothing. But whether he did or not, he had come through.
When the door opened, Ron Bishop walked out first, looking red-faced and defensive.
“Well, I think we’ve got that settled,” Michael Andretti said, putting his glasses back on.
“Get your things, Carly,” her father ordered.
“Are we suing, Dad?”
“Get your things.”
I looked at them both and then up to Michael.
“Anything else?” he asked.
I nodded.
“He has my
Concepts of Science
.”
“My daughter’s book, thank you,” he said briskly.
When the Bishops left, Sister Louise adjusted the chairs and gave us room.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Andretti.”
“Likewise,” he said with a smile. For once his dimples served the right purpose. “By the way, Josie informed me she was looking forward to suspension so she could have a holiday. I hope you won’t give her that satisfaction.”
I seethed with embarrassment and avoided looking at both of them.
“Josephine, dear, come here.”
I wonder why nuns always sound so sarcastic when they say “dear.”
Sister Louise opened a drawer and I looked in.
“What do you see?”
“Applications.”
“Yes, dear. Dating back to 1980. Every lunchtime till the job is complete you’ll come in and put them into alphabetical order. You’ll find it good for the soul, dear.”
“Thank you, Sister.”
“You are suspended for the rest of the day, though.”
I nodded and walked out with Michael Andretti at the same time that the bell rang.
Everyone walked past me taking great interest.
“So how was court today?” I asked at the top of my voice.
Michael Andretti looked around, seeming uncomfortable with the attention, and gave me a great spiel about his day in court. I heard the whispers of excitement, knowing how impressive he sounded.
I walked past my classmates with Michael Andretti beside me and for a few minutes I knew how it felt walking alongside one’s father.
It was a great feeling.
Nine
USUALLY ON FRIDAYS Sister Louise calls Poison Ivy and me into her office to keep us up-to-date with what’s going on. Sister Louise and I don’t get on very well, as you’ve probably worked out. Nothing verbal, though. That’s the trouble, I suppose. We just look at each other untrustingly and don’t say a thing. But I do respect her.
She’s not like the nuns we had in primary school. I don’t think any nun is like that anymore. We call them the penguins because of them wearing wimples and all that
Sound of
Music
gear. Except they really don’t look like that anymore. They’re liberated. I think that during the seventies when women were burning their bras, nuns were burning their habits.
They no longer go around saying, “Bless you, my child,” or, “God will punish you for your sinful ways,” like the nuns of my kindergarten year did. I mean, how can a five-year-old have “sinful” ways?
I remember when I was young I used to wonder if they had parents like us or if they’d hatched out of some church. I wondered all kinds of crazy things, like did they go to the bathroom or did they think bad thoughts.
The first time I saw a nun without a habit, I prayed for her, thinking that she’d go to hell. But I think Sister Louise made me change my mind. I’ve never met a more liberated woman in my life and I realize now that these women do not live in cloistered worlds far away from reality. They know reality better than we do. I just wonder whether she was ever boy-crazy.
After our usual boring discussion during which Poison Ivy crawled to Sister and Sister took it
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