I proceeded slowly up the stairs and down the hall towards the room. It was pitch dark when I cracked the door and poked my head in, but I could hear intermittent sobs. I padded softly across the room towards the bedside lamp and flicked its switch, casting light on the sorrowful sight of Cindy splayed on the bed crying her heart out. I lowered myself gingerly onto the end of the bed and noticed that the light blue pillow by her head was mottled with dark blue patches where it was drenched with her tears.
"Cindy?" I asked softly. I sensed she couldn't hear me over her crying spell so I shook her leg gently and repeated her name more forcefully, "Cindy?"
She lifted her head from where it was buried in the sheets and looked at me from behind swollen eyes. She was an utter mess.
"Yes?" her voice crackled.
"Why are you crying?"
She was quiet for several moments as though collecting her thoughts before answering, "Probably because I'm jealous that Sue Ann has a boy to date."
"Or probably because you're jealous that Scott has a girl to date - and more specifically a girl who you want to date."
Cindy froze, stunned by my forward response. A moment or two passed before she responded with the only reaction she seemed capable of allowing herself: confusion. "Huh?"
"I know that you like Sue Ann a lot, Cindy." That seemed to shock her even more. The blood drained from her face and she looked at me from behind wide eyes.
"H-h-how do you know?" she uttered.
"I see how you look at her."
"Oh no..." she moaned as she began to cry even harder than before - if that was even possible.
"What's wrong?" I asked gently. I placed my hand on her back to comfort her, but she jumped up abruptly and pushed it away.
"Don't touch me, I'm sick!"
"Huh?" It was my turn to be confused - but mine was genuine. "You don't look sick to me. You sure don't have a fever."
"No, I don't mean like that. It's just that - I'm a queer!" she spat vehemently. "I'm a sick, dirty, nasty queer! A lesbian! Like one of those ugly women who dress like men. I've seen tons of them in West Hollywood! I'm one of those!"
"Listen, Cindy, you may be a lesbian, but you're sure not ugly, and there's nothing to be ashamed of. It's what makes you...you. I read a whole article in 'Nature' magazine about homosexuality in animals. Did you know that there are over a hundred species that practice it?"
Cindy peeked at me through her fingers. She had been clutching them to her face as though the whole topic we were discussing was just too much to face head-on. "Really?"
"Yeah. It's not like the abnormality people make it out to be. And it's definitely not unnatural, even though ignoramuses spout claptrap like that all the time. Also, you don't have to worry about me. In fact, I'll help you get her. I think she feels the same way that you do."
"But she said yes to Scott!"
"Just to please Blair ... and to please herself."
Cindy looked at me uncomprehendingly with her lower lip trembling, and asked, "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean that she's probably in denial about her attraction to you."
Cindy seemed to mull over what I had said. The light bulb illuminated a moment later - the moment, I am guessing, when she remembered days of gazes and blushes and lengthy hugs given in the guise of congratulations and encouragement. "You're right! But what are we going to do about it?"
"We're going to the Bates Academy Dance!" I jubilated with a smile.
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About twenty minutes after my heart to heart with Cindy it was close to 8:00 pm Friday, which meant only one thing: it was time for The Dukes of Hazzard. Blair, Sue Ann, Natalie, Nancy, and Tootie were all downstairs crowded around the TV chattering excitedly. Cindy busied herself upstairs since she didn't have any interest in watching. I myself really, really, hate it, but I joined the maddening throng of squealing ladies in the living room. I wasn't planning to watch the show, you see, I was planning to watch Blair watching the show. And sure enough, when Bo and Luke swept onto the screen and all the girls went gaga Blair also made animated gestures, clutching her hands to her chest as she made fawn eyes and sighed loudly. But to me it seemed like she was yet again overacting. Not like William Shatner overacting, but pretty close. I continued to observe. A little later in the show I finally saw what it is she truly desires - in the form of Daisy Duke! Her eyes were more fixated on her than they had ever had been on Bo or Luke. Obviously she couldn't show her interest openly, but her eyes widened as they followed the woman on the screen, her cheeks flushed slightly, and I noticed that her hands fidgeted agitatedly with the hem of her blouse... I knew she was a closet case! I made a mental note to undertake further investigation on Wednesday at 9:00 during Charlie's Angels.
I felt triumphant to have caught Blair's reactions, but it also left me confused. How could her disgust for Cindy be so strong if she is also attracted to women? Maybe she sees that part of herself in Cindy and can't tolerate it? Or maybe it's the fact that Cindy lets herself be true instead of putting on a masquerade. Those are the only things I could think of for the moment. When I snapped out of my thoughts I noticed Blair's full attention was focused on Catherine Bach. Oh, Blair, you are busted, woman!
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"What? No, I won't dye my hair blond for you!" Nancy spat into the receiver. Cindy and I were lounging on the couch playing Chinese checkers. Since the phone table was a mere few feet away we were privy to every word on her side of the conversation. She was so caught up with Roger that she didn't seem to register our presence. She is so ridiculously attached to that phone and to Roger on the other end that she probably wouldn't even notice if we had a nuclear meltdown in the likes of Three Mile Island! I make a point of not listening to much of her conversation, whereas it seems to be Tootie's and Natalie's favorite pastime. Cindy enjoyed listening once in a while as well. This time, however, I knew that she was hanging out nearby because Sue Ann was about to call Scott, not because she had any interest in the day's episode of the Nancy-Roger sagas. "But Farrah Fawcett is overrated!" Nancy protested, "Don't you know that brunettes are all the rage now? Really! That Italian girl Gia is all over Vogue and Cosmopolitan." I wanted to interrupt that Gia isn't Italian, but Italian-American from Philly, but I thought the better of it. Nancy seemed steamed.
"Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that," Cindy - the natural blond - jokingly mumbled to herself. I chuckled, but I agree with Nancy: blondes are overrated. Sorry, Cindy.
Sue Ann came barreling down the stairs and eyed Nancy with visible impatience.
"So, where do you want to go after the dance? Ooh, that sounds nice. I really do want to do that. Just hold on a second." Obviously she had sensed the eyes beaming into her skull. She turned to face an agitated looking Sue Ann and hissed, "Scram, Blondie!"
Sue Ann stood her ground, unfazed. "Nancy, will you get off the phone for once? You don't own it, and besides, you do know that there's life outside of the world of Ma Bell, don't you?"
"Of course I do! But I'm talking to Roger, the love of my life." She delivered the last part rather dramatically.
"Well, the 'love of your life' can wait! Get off the phone, or else..."
"Or else what?"
Sue Ann smiled wickedly. "Or else..." she began to project her voice as she announced towards the phone, "Hey Roger, Nancy was eyeing more than just the donuts when the delivery boy Steve brought the groceries other day!" A shocked look came over Nancy's face, and she quickly hung up the phone. "I'll get you for this!" she sneered as she stalked away in another of her dramatic rages.
Seconds later the phone rang - just like on a TV show!
Sue Ann blanched. "Hey, Cindy, do you mind answering the phone for me?"
Cindy responded with a frosty look and an icicle of attitude, "Why should I?"
"Because I don't want to seem anxious," Sue Ann huffed.
I had a feeling that this had a high blow-up potential, so I intervened to curb the mounting volatility, "I'll answer it."
Cindy looked at me incredulously, but I ignored her as I plucked the receiver from the phone.
"Hello, who is this? Scott Dunbar the Third? Who do you want to speak to? Sue Ann Weaver? Hold on let me see if she's here." I looked over at Sue Ann who was anxiously biting her fingernails. I couldn't tell if she really wanted to go through this or not.
"How does he sound?" she whispered.
"He sounds like he could be a Kennedy, and like he could've been bred for Harvard. Is he from Boston?" I asked, muffling the mouthpiece with my hand.
"He is related to the Kennedys, and, yes, he is from Boston. Isn't he friends with your buddy, Greg?"
"Yeah, but I've never met him. He's only been at Bates a few months." I handed her the phone even though she was looking positively green, and retired to the couch next to Cindy to watch how the conversation would unfold.
"Why, Molly? Why?" Cindy whispered angrily through clenched teeth.
"Cindy..." I started to explain quietly. "Sometimes you have to let people figure out what it is that they want in their own time. Besides, it wasn't Scott's fault that Blair came up with this scheme, and it would be rude for Sue Ann to not talk to him when he called. Maybe she'll tell him she has other plans - that she has to wash her hair or something."
"Or write a poem?" she asked with a slight hint of mockery. "Anyway, I hope so," She added.
"Hello, Scott? Yes, Blair said you'd call. So you're from Beantown? Wow, that's so cool. Well, I'm from Kansas City, Kansas."
Cindy sat rocking gently on the couch muttering to herself and glaring in the direction of the conversation transpiring across the room. "I can't believe she's going through this."
"Cindy, don't worry about it too much."
"Don't worry? Are you kidding? He's got connections and wealth. From what I've heard, he letters in many sports, including fencing, and he's on the Debate team, and the Student Council. He's even a Kennedy. How could I possibly compete with all that?"
"It's just a beginning, nothing has happened yet at all. Besides, maybe he'll do something to turn her off."
"...You can get me an autographed photo of Jackie Kennedy Onassis?" Sue Ann's voice floated towards us. "You're so awesome!"
Or, maybe not...
"...Yes, I do live on a farm, and I can drive a tractor trailer, but that doesn't mean that I'm a backward yokel." There was a pause, which presumably indicated her listening to Scott's response. "Do I want to boogie? What do you mean by that?"
We both cracked up. "She doesn't know what 'boogie' means," I said, elbowing Cindy good-naturedly in the ribs.
"Oh, shut up, you two!" she barked at us, which just made us laugh even harder.
"Well, okay, I'm looking forward to seeing you at the dance on Saturday. Goodbye."
She turned to us as she replaced the phone in its cradle. It was clear that she was doing her best to look excited, but she wasn't doing a very good job. "Hey, Scott agreed to be my date for the dance, isn't that cool?"
"Yeah, that's really cool!" I answered uneasily. Thank goodness that she doesn't read body language.
She looked pointedly at Cindy and asked, "What do you think?"
"Yeah, that's great," Cindy muttered before she sprang up for the couch and made for the stairs. A concerned look crossed Sue Ann's face, which makes me think she knows what's really going on, and that she isn't so naïve as she makes herself seem. She turned quickly and headed out of the room. And there I was, left standing by myself wondering how this would all turn out. Oh boy...
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On the night of the dance, Sue Ann was standing in front of the mirror clutching her dress. It was similar to the one that Blair had been wearing the night she had gotten all gussied up for a big date with some boy, only to be interrupted by a meltdown she had because her mother was acting vampy with some old man with a strange name. Cindy stood silently, staring vacantly at her reflection for what seemed like an extraordinarily long time. It was clear that she was doing some soul searching.
"Are you excited about your date?" I asked with enthusiasm. As she turned to face me a look of worry crossed her face, but she quickly turned into a rather forced smile. She was anything but happy.
"Yes, I am. I can't believe that Scott would be interested in dating a country girl like me! It's like an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
"Not really. Besides the fact that he's high class, you two do share quite a few similarities: you're both very smart, ambitious, and blond."
Sue Ann smiled, "That's true. I guess that's why he's considered a catch."
"I see. Can I be honest with you?"
"Yes, go right ahead."
"Do you really want to go out with Scott?"
Her face twitched slightly as though she had been caught in a fib. The book notes that kind of tic as one of the ways a face betrays a betrayal. There was also a tinge of hesitation in her answer.
"Yes... very much so. Why do you ask?"
"I'm just curious. It seems as though you're not really that anxious to go out with him."
My question seemed to step up her anxiety even more, and she avoided eye contact with me when she responded, "Well, it's probably because I'm nervous about all this. I mean, I'm dealing with high-class stuff here. So, who are you going with?" She finished, changing the subject. Her obvious discomfort with the topic further confirmed to me that she really wasn't that interested in him. This was a date we were talking about - she should've been way more responsive! I learned this from another book titled 'Read Between The Lines.'
"I'm not going with anyone, unless you consider Cindy to be my date!" I joked, but Sue Ann didn't seem to take it as funny - well, her body didn't anyway. She clenched her teeth and tightened her lips together for a split second as a show of anger. Why wouldn't she just admit that she wanted to go to the dance with Cindy? "Just kidding!" I chimed, and then forced a laugh. Her body relaxed again and she laughed with me. "Neither one of us has dates, but we're still going."
"Well, don't let Blair catch wind of it - she'll come after you!" she kidded.
"She probably would. Don't you think Blair has been too harsh on Cindy lately?"
"Totally. I wanted to slap her when she told her that her type is softball players. After all, boys don't play softball." I know that she can be naïve, but her comment indicated that I had underestimated to what extent! No, Sue Ann, there are boys who play softball. There's a men's softball team right near my hometown. Sue Ann's whole body tensed as she continued, "She's been acting real mean towards her lately. This never happened before. It's like she changed during summer time."
Well, there's a clue. They've known each other for a few years before this, and she never accused her of being a lesbian until now. Something must have happened in the summer to turn her against Cindy.
"I know. She's always been, well... rather snobby, but she has really become witchy lately. And I really hate calling other women 'witchy,' but she's totally earned it! Maybe 'prig' is a better word..." I mused out loud.
Sue Ann replied, "Just because she dresses like a boy, doesn't mean that she wants to be a boy, or that she has the same desires that a boy does...right?"
Her face showed a lot of confusion as she asked. I didn't blame her.
"That could be true. Blair is assuming that she's a lesbian just because she's such a tomboy, but there are tons of tomboys who are straight."
"That's also true." Sue Ann replied. "But no matter what, Cindy still doesn't deserve the way Blair is treating her. She's kind, wonderful, and sweet. And she's great company. She's really smart and knows a lot about sports. She once told me about the soccer clubs in England. I had never ever heard anything about Aston Villa or Nottingham before. I also remember this one time when we were at the park, and we..."
Presumably she enjoyed Cindy as a topic for discussion, as that's all she talked about the next five minutes solid. It was clear that Cindy meant something to her. To me it confirmed that she really did love her.
"I see. Well, I better get ready for the dance too."
"Okay, then."
I left the room knowing that I had a lot of work to do, for Sue Ann is in deep, deep, denial about Cindy.