She emerged from the bathroom. Her face was flushed and solemn as she climbed quietly into her bed. I approached her blanket-clad body and asked, "Is there something wrong, Cindy?"
"No, nothing, but thanks for asking," She responded, her eyes hard.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm fine. I think I just need some sleep," she said gently this time. She uttered an audible sigh and rolled over to face away from me.
Just then the door to the room opened revealing a pajama wearing, pig-tailed, Tootie carrying a towel in one hand. She made her way to the bathroom as I switched on the nightlight and reached to turn off the room's main light. I clambered for a book that I had stowed under my bed and smiled with satisfaction as my fingertips brushed its glossy cover. I took a moment to contemplate its title - How to Read Others Before They Read You - another fascinating book in my ever-growing collection about body language and how to interpret it. It had helped me a lot to figure out both Cindy and Sue Ann where the first book was lacking, and I bet it will help me to figure out Blair! I felt an en evil smile stretch across my face as I entertained the many ways I could possibly get to that self-absorbed shrew with my new found skills.
"Oh, Blair, I'm going to expose you like you were Nixon!" I thought gleefully to myself.
I heard sniffles coming from Cindy's side of the bed throughout the night, and I knew that she was still crying about her recent revelation. I have to help her get over it and to realize that it's okay, that there's nothing wrong with her just the way she is. After all, who has the right to say who or what you should be attracted to? Why is the gender of the person important? If they bring joy and happiness to your life, what does it matter? There are so many things about the dominant views in our society that I just don't understand.
Cindy didn't stir at all the next morning when Tootie and I woke, which was really strange since she was normally the first one out of bed so that she could fit in her morning routine of stretches and crunches before breakfast. I noticed that her eyes were open just as I reached out to give her shoulder a gentle shake. She had covered most of her head with the blanket and was staring blankly at the wall next to her bed.
"Cindy, it's time to get up."
"No," she replied petulantly, "leave me alone."
"Come on now, you're going to be late!" Tootie exclaimed.
"It doesn't matter."
"Girl, what's wrong wit'cha!?!" Tootie questioned, her natural sass coming out.
"Leave me alone. I don't wanna talk about it!" Cindy responded dejectedly, punctuating her reply with a loud sniffle.
I turned to Tootie. "Let me deal with this myself, okay?"
"And miss out all the good stuff? Heck no!"
I rolled my eyes and groaned. I knew that in order to get my way I had to be like Vito Corleone and make her an offer she couldn't refuse. "How about if I help you out with your Social Science homework for the next two days, would that work?"
"Three, and you have to tell me everything that's going on," Tootie bartered. Darn, this girl knows how to drive a hard bargain!
"Okay, fine, but you have to swear that you will keep your mouth shut about this, or I'll let Cindy come after you … and you know that she can fight!"
"Mmm hmmm," Cindy's voice filtered through the sheets to back up my threat.
Tootie's eyes widened. "Okay… I promise," she gulped.
"Good, now get going so that Mrs. Garrett doesn't come looking for us."
When the door finally closed behind Tootie, I turned to bedding encased figure lying prone on the left bed.
"Cindy, can we talk?"
"What's there to talk about?" her muffled voice floated from underneath the blanket.
"A lot. I heard you crying last night. Something dramatic must have happened."
She turned over and removed the covers from her head to lock eyes with mine. "Well, if you insist. I just realized something about myself that I think is horrifying, and if I tell you I know you won't want to be friends with me anymore."
"How do you know that?"
"Because you'll probably find it disgusting," she replied miserably.
"There are many things that I find disgusting, but I doubt that something about you would be one of them. Does it have to do with what Blair said to you the other day?"
Cindy didn't respond to my question with words, but began to cry instead.
"Now, there," I said, offering her a shoulder. She propped herself against it as she wept. "Look, even if what she said about you not being normal is true, you shouldn't let it bother you. It may be a scary thing to come to terms with, but it's not as bad as you make it out to be. And it's not as bad as lots of other people make it out to be either," I offered by way of consolation.
"But what if the others think I'm disgusting? They'd hate me just like Blair does. Or even worse, I could get kicked out of the school for it."
"As for getting expelled, I won't let it happen, and I'm sure Mrs. Garrett wouldn't either - not without a serious fight. As for the others, they won't hate you because of it. Everyone stood by you when Blair called you that, remember? And if some people do, just ignore them - they're ignorant morons who aren't worth your time or energy. Seriously, you can't let this control your life. Do you want to spend all your time being miserable because of it?"
"No," she responded, straightening herself up and wiping her eyes.
"Then cheer up and don't let it get to you. Come on, let's get ourselves ready for class."
When we finally started for downstairs Mrs. Garrett was making her way up the bottom of the staircase with a determined look on her face.
"Oh good, I was about to come up and get you girls. You're running late!"
"Sorry, Mrs. Garrett, we slept in," I lied. "All that excitement from yesterday must have worn us out." I tried with all my might to keep a poker face as she eyed us carefully even though I knew it was futile. Lots of experience has taught me that you can't really fool her.
"Cindy, are you okay? You look kind of down."
"Yeah... I'm fine."
"No, you're not. What's the matter?" Mrs. Garrett asked gently, placing her arm around the girl's shoulders as we proceeded down the steps.
"Aw, Mrs. Garrett, I lost to Blair in the Harvest Fair." I could tell by the flash of irritation that crossed her face when she mentioned it that it really did upset her, but I also knew that losing the title to the resident princess was the least of her problems.
"Don't let that bother you," I interjected encouragingly. "Yeah, she won - but so what? You were runner-up, and you proved to everyone that you can be feminine. And on top of all that you got Greg Hockney's attention," I finished with a grin.
Cindy smiled back. Her eyes agreed with everything but the last part. "Thanks, Molly."
"Now, come on - let's get our breakfast."
"That's a great idea, girls. You need to be on your way!" Mrs. Garrett piped up approvingly. She had been watching us talk out Cindy's sadness, and I knew she was happy with my encouragement. She was always pleased when we did our best to be optimistic and to support one another through our troubles.
The breakfast foods were still out on the countertop in the kitchen. Sue Ann and Natalie came through the swinging door just as we started to prepare our plates. Cindy was busy meticulously cutting a grapefruit into segments, so she didn't notice the pair's entrance until Natalie broke the silence with a volley of her busy chatter.
Sue Ann ignored her garrulous companion and sidled up to Cindy. "Congratulations again, Cindy. Too bad that you didn't win first place, but at least you gave Blair some much needed competition."
"Yeah, thanks," she said blushing to the roots of her hair like a schoolgirl reeling from her first crush. What am I saying? She IS a schoolgirl, this IS her first crush, and she IS reeling! Sue Ann wasn't much better; she stood in an awkward silence and gawked back. They carried their plates over to the breakfast table and pulled up adjoining chairs. Blair suddenly burst into the kitchen with a flourish, late as usual. Her eyes fixed immediately and firmly on the latent couple. She smirked as she turned away to busy herself with the oatmeal pot on the stove. For somebody so painfully self-centered, she seems to have a really good sense of noticing other people's body language!
"So, Cindy, how does it feel to be number two?" she asked, both figuratively and literally stirring the pot.
"Shut it, Blair," Sue Ann spat.
"I see, so you're her bodyguard now?"
Cindy rose from the table and strode over to the stove. She grabbed the other girl by her collar, and drawing her close gritted, "I don't need a bodyguard when I can take you on myself." Blair's eyes remained steely, but being the close observer that I am, I noticed that her pupils dilated in fear. Luckily Sue Ann pulled her back. Blair didn't say much after that; Cindy had straightened her out alright - no pun intended.
"Well, that taught her a lesson," Cindy declared with a smile.
"It sure did," Sue Ann agreed.
As they ate they repeatedly gave each other long glances while the other wasn't looking. Blair seemed to notice, but she kept to herself. She ate in stunned and angry silence, fearful of once again inciting the fury of Cynthia Webster. I must admit that I am enjoying the little game those two are playing. I might be mistaken, but I think Natalie noticed too before quickly averting her eyes and focusing on her hot cocoa and toast. Blair, on the other hand, barely looked away from the two other blondes, which once again makes me curious as to why she's so interested in their interaction. I'm gonna need to keep tabs on her - I think there's more to Blair's story than meets the eye….
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The rest of the week was more of the same. Cindy and Sue Ann kept flirting with each other as usual, yet neither seemed to want to want to make the first move out of fear of how the other would react. Similarly, Blair just kept on being Blair - spoiled and rotten. She was careful not to do anything to upset either Sue Ann or Cindy, but I noticed that she didn't seem to like it when they were together.
Near the end of the week Blair announced some 'good' news to Sue Ann as the girl was looking over her homework assignments on the couch. Cindy was seated within earshot at a table nearby oiling her new catcher's mitt, and I myself had a perfect view of the scene from my armchair. I pretended to be absorbed with a copy of the New York Times as I took it all in.
"Guess what?"
"What?"
"Scott Dunbar the Third from Bates Academy wants to take you to the Bates Academy Dance as his date!" Blair enthused.
Judging by Sue Ann's face, it seemed as though the statement inspired both surprise and confusion. It took her a moment to gather her wits enough to react excitedly. "Really?" she exclaimed. Cindy's face, on the other hand, was a mask of total shock and horror.
"Of course. And you have Ms. Cupid here to thank for making it possible," Blair gloated. I mentally gagged a little. There was nothing grosser than the spectacle of Blair reveling about herself in the third person.
"I heard that he's a real catch!" Sue Ann bubbled with feigned delight.
"Of course he is! He has old money and new money."
"I knew guys like that back in Kansas City when I was at the Harry S. Truman school!"
"But the difference between those hicks and Scott is that Scott has real teeth!"
An angry look crossed both Cindy and Sue Ann's faces. What a hypocrite! As if she has the nerve to talk about 'real' - real blonds don't need a bottle the last time I checked.
Sue Ann recovered quickly. "Well... that's great! Thanks, Blair."
The deadly look that Cindy shot Blair was confirmation enough that she was livid as hell. I was surprised when Blair smirked in return. "Maybe I can get you one too?" she asked in a saccharine tone. I saw Cindy's fist clench and connect firmly with the center of her mitt.
"Hey, Cindy," Sue Ann called out, "isn't that great!? Scott wants to go out with me!"
"Yes, it is," She responded brusquely, her gaze never leaving Blair. She folded her arms in front of her, both fists clenched, which was, of course, her body's way of showing her fury. Blair must have noticed, as she quickly averted her eyes and changed the subject.
"Hey, Sue Ann, I did this painting of a football player. You want to check it out?"
"Sure!"
Blair turned to face Cindy. "How about you?" She offered with a phony smile.
"No, no thanks," the girl answered as politely as she could muster.
"Oh yeah, they're not your type," Blair responded smugly.
Cindy got up quickly from her seat and barked, "How the heck do you know who my type is?"
"I was thinking of someone more like a … softball player."
It was clear that Cindy was about to explode. "Blair, some of us like our men with brains, not flailing around grunting like apes," I intervened quickly before things could escalate any further between the two of them.
Sue Ann must have also felt the need to quickly calm the storm by diverting Blair's attention. "Just show me your painting please," she said softly.
Blair responded with an obvious sense of relief, realizing that she might have once again have gotten in over her head. "Sure! I think you'll love it." The two of them headed for the other room.
I turned to Cindy, but she darted up the stairs before I could say anything to her.
"Well, at least she's taking this alright," I said to myself. My thought was interrupted by the sound of a bedroom door being slammed forcefully. "Then again, maybe I spoke too soon…"