Margie sat in her seat by the window, daydreaming as usual. It was finally truly spring, even though it had officially been spring for a whole month. An orange and black butterfly fluttered by, pausing on some Queen Anne's Lace growing over the window sill. Margie longed to be outside, chasing butterflies and laying by the river and doing nothing at all.
“Margaret Lewis, please pay attention! You should be halfway through your arithmetic by now.” Ms. Gillroy was standing in the front on the classroom, hands on her skinny hips, glaring at her. Margie picked up her piece of chalk and slate and began to write her arithmetic facts. Oh, how math bored her. She would much rather spend the day reading, or hearing about some king from a far away land. But Ms. Gillroy's favorite subject was mathematics. She believed that everyone should know how to read and write, but use of those skills should be saved for after school hours. Math was practical, there was always an answer. Margie felt sorry for her, really. She was so unromantic. The poor spinster school teacher, she must have lived an awfully dull life.
“Margaret, stop your daydreaming or you'll have to stay after school and clean all the blackboards and beat the rugs!” Margie's eyes snapped back to her slate, and she once again began writing problems. She would never end up like stodgy old Ms. Gillroy! After she finished school she was going to get a job in the city and never come back to this backwoods town! She was going to get rich and wear fancy red dresses that were so scandelous like she'd seen in Katherine's aunt's fashion magazine. She would never milk another cow, sew another sampler, or sleep in a bed with three other sisters again! There was a man waiting for her in the city, and he would work in a bank and buy her beautiful things, like that red dress. He would never have even heard of farming or pigs or anything uncivilized.
“Margie,” William Talbert hissed, kicking her chair from his own behind her. She turned back to him, and realized he was trying to help her get back to her work. Ms. Gilroy was finishing writing sums on the board for the smaller children, and if Will hadn't warned her, she would have turned around and caught Margie staring out the window again. She smiled at him, then got back to work, determined this time to get it finished.
After school Will carried Margie's books for her as they walked home. He was thirteen, two years older than herself. Margie liked the way his hair turned gold in the afternoon sunlight, and how strong his hands were from all the hard work he did on his family's farm. When they reached her home, Margie took her books and thanked him shyly, then ran inside. Her mother stood at the table, peeling potatoes. Margie put her books down and began helping her. She peeled faster than her mother, a fact that she was quite proud of. When her father came in from working in the fields, she hugged him tightly, inhaling the scent of straw and cows and dirt.
That night, laying in bed with her sisters, Margie thought about Will Talbert, imagining him hugging their children after a long day in the fields, smiling tiredly at her, kissing her cheek. She snuggled under the covers, an arm draped across a sister, all thoughts of city-life erased from her head. At least until tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment