Chapter 14 Part Two-2

She hollered about the prom cards one more time before she went into the dining-room. Soon they began to pile in from the hall. Every person took a prom card and they lined up in bunches against the walls of the room. real start now. It came all of a sudden in a very queer way—this quietness. The boys stood together on one side of the room and the girls were across from them. For some reason every person quit making noise at once. The boys held their cards and looked at the girls and the room was very still. None of the boys started asking for proms like they were supposed to do. The awful quietness got worse and she had not been to enough parties to know what she should do. Then the boys started punching each other and talking. The girls giggled—but even if they didn't look at the boys you could tell they only had their minds on whether they were going to be popular or not. The awful quietness was gone now, but there was something jittery about the room.

After a while a boy went up to a girl named Delores Brown. As soon as he had signed her up the other boys all began to rush Delores at once. When her whole card was full they started on another girl, named Mary. After that everything suddenly stopped again. One or two extra girls got a couple of proms—and because she was giving the party three boys came up to her. That was all. The people just hung around in the dining-room and the hall. The boys mostly flocked around the punch bowland tried to show off with each other. The girls bunched together and did a lot of laughing to pretend like they were having a good time. The boys thought about the girls and the girls thought about the boys. But all that came of it was a queer feeling in the room.

It was then she began to notice Harry Minowitz. He lived in the house next door and she had known him all her life. Although he was two years older she had grown faster than him, and in the summer-time they used to wrestle and fight out on the plot of grass by the street. Harry was a Jew boy, but he did not look so much like one. His hair was light brown and straight. Tonight he was dressed very neat, and when he came in the door he had hung a grown mans panama hat with a feather in iton the hatrack. It wasn't his clothes that made her notice him. There was something changed about his face because he was without the horn-rimmed specs he usually wore. A red, droppy sty had come out on one of his eyes and he had to cock his head sideways like a bird in order to see. His long, thin hands kept touching around his sty as though it hurt him. When he asked for punch he stuck the paper cup right into her Dads face. She could tell he needed his glasses very bad . He was nervous and kept bumping into people. He didnt ask any girl to prom except her—and that was because it was her party.

All the punch had been drunk. Her Dad was afraid she would be embarrassed, so he and her Mama had gone back to the kitchen to make lemonade. Some of the people were on the front porch and the sidewalk. in the cool night air. After the hot, bright house she could smell the new autumn in the darkness. Then she saw something she hadn't expected. Along the edge of the sidewalk and in the dark street there was a bunch of neighborhood kids. Pete and Sucker Wells and Baby and Spareribs—the whole gang that started at below Bubbers age and went on up to over twelve. There were even kids she didnt know at all who had somehow smelled a party and come to hang around. And there were kids her age and older that she hadnt invited either because they had done something mean to her or she had done something mean to them. They were all dirty and in plainshorts or draggle-tailed knickers or old everyday dresses. They were just hanging around in the dark to watch the party. She thought of two feelings when she saw those kids —one was sad and the other was a kind of warning.

I got this prom with you. Harry Minowitz made out like he was reading on his card, but she could see nothing was written on it. Her Dad had come onto the porch and blown the whistle that meant the beginning of the first prom. Yeah, she said. Lets get going.' They started out to walk around the block. In the long dress she still felt very ritzy. Look yonder at Mick Kelly! one of the kids in the dark hollered. Look at her! She just walked on like she hadnt heard, but it was that Spare-ribs, and some day soon she would catch him. She and Harry walked fast along the dark sidewalk, and when they came to the end of the street they turned down another block.

How old are you now, Mick—thirteen?' Going on fourteen.' She knew what he was thinking. It used to worry her all the time. Five feet six inches tall and a hundred and three pounds, and she was only thirteen. Every kid at the party was a runt beside her, except Harry, who was only a couple of inches shorter. No boy wanted to prom with a girl so much taller than him. But maybe cigarettes would help stunt the rest of her growth. I grew three and a fourth inches just in last year, she said. Once I saw a lady at the fair who was eight and a half feet tall. But you probably wont grow that big.'

Harry stopped beside a dark crepe myrtle bush. Nobody was in sight. He took something out of his pocket and started fooling with whatever it was. She leaned over to see—it was his pair of specs and he was wiping them with his handkerchief. Pardon me, he said. Then he put on his glasses and she could hear him breathe deep. You ought to wear your specs all the time.' Yeah.' How come you go around without them?' The night was very quiet and dark. Harry held her elbow when they crossed the street. Theres a certain young lady back at the party that thinks its sissy for a fellow to wear glasses. This certain person—oh well, maybe I am a------'

He didnt finish. Suddenly he tightened up and ran a few steps and sprang for a leaf about four feet above his head. She just could see that high leaf in the dark. his jumping and he got it the first time. Then he put the leaf in his mouth and shadow-boxed for a few punches in the dark. She caught up with him. As usual a song was in her mind. She was humming to herself. What's that you're singing?" ?Its a piece by a fellow named Mozart' Harry felt pretty good. He was sidestepping with his feet like a fast boxer. That sounds like a sort of German name.' I reckon so.'

Fascist? he asked. *What?' I say is that Mozart a Fascist or a Nazi?' Mick thought a minute. *No. Theyre new, and this fellows been dead some time.' Its a good thing. He began punching in the dark again. He wanted her to ask why. I say its a good thing, he said again. Why?' Because I hate Fascists. If I met one walking on the street Id kill him.' She looked at Harry. The leaves against the street light made quick, freckly shadows on his face. He was excited. How come? she asked. Gosh! Don't you ever read the paper? ' They had come back around the block. A commotion was going on at her house. People were yelling and running on the sidewalk. A heavy sickness came in her belly.

Theres not time to explain unless we prom around the block again. I dont mind telling you why I hate Fascists. Id like to tell about it.' This was probably the first chance he had got to spill these ideas out to somebody. But she didnt have time to listen. She was busy looking at what she saw in the front of her house. OK Ill see you later. The prom was over now, so she could look and put her mind on the mess she saw. What had happened while she was gone? When she left the people were standing around in the fine clothes and it was a real party. Now—after just five minutes—the place looked

more like a crazy house. While she was gone those kids had come out of the dark and right into the party itself. The nerve they had! There was old Pete Wells banging out of the front door with a cup of punch hi his hand. They bellowed and ran and mixed with the invited people—in their old loose-legged knickers and everyday clothes. Baby Wilson messed around on the front porch—and Baby wasn't more than four years old. Anybody could see she ought to be home in bed by now, same as Bubber. She walked down the steps one at a time, holding the punch high up over her head. There was no reason for her to be here at all. Mister Brannon was her uncle and she could get free candy and drinks at his place any time she wanted to. As soon as she was on the sidewalk Mick caught her by the arm. You go right home, Baby Wilson. Go on, now. Mick looked around to see what else she could do to straighten things out again like they ought to be. She went up to Sucker Wells. , j where it was dark, holding his paper cup and looking at * everybody in a dreamy way. Sucker was seven years old and he had on shorts. His chest and feet were naked. He wasn't causing any of the commotion, but she was mad I as hell at what had happened. She grabbed Sucker by the shoulders and began to shake him. At first he held his jaws tight, but after a min- I ute his teeth began to rattle. You go home, Sucker Wells. You quit hanging around where you are not invited. When she let him go, Sucker tucked his tail and walked slowly down the street. But he didnt go all the way home. After he got to the corner she saw him sit down on the curb and watch the party where he thought she couldnt see him. For a minute she felt good about shaking the spit out of Sucker. And then right afterward she had a bad worry feeling in her and she started to let him come back. Thebig kids were the ones who messed up everything. and with the worst nerve she had ever seen. Drinking up the refreshments and ruining the real party into all this commotion. They slammed through the front door and hollered and bumped into each other. She went up to Pete Wells because he was the worst of all. He wore his football helmet and butted into people. Pete was every bit of fourteen, yet he was still stuck in the seventh grade. up to him, but he was too big to shake like Sucker. When she told him to go home he shimmied and made a nose dive at her. I been in six different states. Florida, Alabama------fTMade out of silver cloth with a sash------* The party was all messed up. Everybody was talking at once. The invited people from Vocational were mixed with the neighborhood gang. The boys and the girls still stood in separate bunches, though—and nobody prommed. In the house the lemonade was just about gone. There was only a little puddle of water with floating lemon peels at the bottom of the bowl. Her Dad always acted too nice with kids. He had served out the punch to anybody who stuck a cup at him. Portia was serving the sandwiches when she went into the dining-room. In five minutes they were all gone. She only got one—a jelly kind with pink sops come through the bread. Portia stayed in the dining-room to watch the party. having too good a time to leave, she said. I done sent word to Highboy and Willie to go on with the Saturday Night without me. Everbody so excited here I going to wait and see the end of this party.' Excitement—that was the word. She could feel it all through the room and on the porch and the sidewalk. She felt excited, too. It wasn't just her dress and the beautiful way her face looked when she passed by the hatrack mirror and saw the red paint on her cheeks and the rhinestone tiara in her hair. Maybe it was the decoration and all these Vocational people and kids being jammed together. ?Watch her run!' Ouch! Cut it out——' Act your age!' A bunch of girls were running down the street, holding up their dresses and with the hair flying out behind them. CARSON McCULLERS Some boys had cut off the long, sharp spears of a Spanish bayonet bush and they were chasing the girls with them. Freshmen in Vocational all dressed up for a real prom party and acting just like kids. It was half playlike and half not playlike at all. A boy came up to her with a sticker and she started running too. The idea of ​​the party was over entirely now. This was just a regular playing-out. But it was the wildest night she had ever seen. The kids had caused it. all the other people forget about High School and being almost grown. It was like just before you take a bath in the afternoon when you might wallow around in the back yard and get plenty dirty just for the good feel of it before getting into the tub .Everybody was a wild kid playing out on Saturday night—and she felt like the very wildest of all. She hollered and pushed and was the first to try any new stunt. She made so much noise and moved around so fast she couldnt notice what anybody else was doing. Her breath wouldnt come fast enough to let her do all the wild things she wanted to do. The ditch down the street! The ditch! The ditch!' She started for it first. Down a block they had put in new pipes under the street and dug a swell deep ditch. The flambeaux around the edge were bright and red in the dark. She wouldn't wait to climb down. She ran until she reached the little wavy flames and then she jumped. With her tennis shoes she would have landed like a cat —but the high pumps made her slip and her stomach hit this pipe. Her breath was stopped. She lay quiet with her eyes closed. The party------For a long time she remembered howshe thought it would be, how she imagined the new people at Vocational. And about the bunch she wanted to be with every day. She would feel different in the halls now, knowing that they were not something special but like any other kids. It was OK about the ruined party. But it was all over. It was the end. Mick climbed out of the ditch. Some kids were playing around the little pots of flames. The fire made a red glow and there were long, quick shadows. One boy had gone home and put on a dough-face bought in advance for Hal- low. Nothing was changed about the party except her. She walked home slowly. When she passed kids she didnt speak or look at them. The decoration in the hall was torn down and the house seemed very empty because everyone had gone outside. In the bathroom she took off the blue evening dress. was torn and she folded it so the raggedy place wouldn't show. The rhinestone tiara was lost somewhere. Her old shorts and shirt were lying on the floor just where she had left them. She put them on. She was too big to wear shorts any more after this. No more after this night Not any more. Mick stood out on the front porch. Her face was very white without the paint. She cupped her hands before her mouth and took a deep breath. Everybody go home! The door is shut! The party is over!' In the quiet, secret night she was by herself again. It was not late—yellow squares of light snowed in the windows of the houses along the streets. She walked slow, with her hands in her pockets and her head to one side. For a long time she walked without noticing the direction. Then the houses were far apart from each other and there were yards with big trees in them and black shrubbery. She looked around and saw she was near this house where she had gone so many times in the summer. Her feet had just taken her here Without her knowing. When she came to the house she waited to be sure no person could see. Then she went through the side yard. The radio was on as usual. For a second she stood by the window and watched the people inside. The bald-headed man and the gray-haired lady were playing cards at a table. Mick sat on the ground. and secret place. Close around were thick cedars so that she was completely hidden by herself. The radio was no good tonight—somebody sang popular songs that all ended in the same way. It was like she was empty. She reached in her pockets and felt around with her fingers. There were raises and a buckeye and a string of beads— one cigarette with matches. She lighted the cigarette and put her arms around her knees. It was like she was so empty there wasn't even a feeling or thought in her. One program came on after another, and all of them CARSON McCULLERS were punk. She didnt especially care. She smoked and picked a little bunch of grass blades. After a while a new announcer started talking. He mentioned Beethoven. She had read in the library about that musician—his name was pronounced with an a and spelled with double e. He was a German fellow like Mozart When he was living he spoke in a foreign language and lived in a foreign place— like she wanted to do. The announcer said they were going to play his third symphony. She only halfway listened because she wanted to walk some more and she didnt care much what they played. Then the music started. Mick raised her head and her fist went up to her throat. How did it come? For a minute the opening balanced from one side to the other. Like a walk or march. Like God strutting in the night. The outside of her was suddenly froze and only that first part of the music was hot inside her heart. She could not even hear what sounded after, but she sat there waiting and froze, with her fists tight. After a while the music came again, harder and loud. It didnt have anything to do with God. This was her, Mick Kelly, walking in the daytime and by herself at night. In the hot sun and in the dark with all the plans and feelings. This music was her—the real plain her. She could not listen good enough to hear it all The music boiled inside her. Which? To hang on to certain wonderful parts and think them over so that later she would not forget—or should she let go and listen to each part that came without thinking or trying to remember? Golly! The whole world was this music and she could not listen hard enough. Then at last the opening music came again, with all the different instruments bunched together for each note like a hard, tight fist that socked at her heart And the first part was over. This music did not take a long time or a short time. It did not have anything to do with time going by at all. She sat with her arms held tight around her legs, biting her salty knee very hard. It might have been five minutes she listened or half the night. The second part was black-colored—a slow march. Not sad, but like the whole world was dead and black and there was no use thinking back how it was before. One of those horn kind of Instruments played a sad and silver tune. Then the music rose up angry and with excitement underneath. And finally the black march again. But maybe the last part of the symphony was the music she loved the best—glad and like the greatest people in the world running and springing up in a hard, free way. Wonderful music nice this was the worst hurt there could be. The whole The world was this symphony, and there was not enough of her to listen. It was over, and she sat very stiff with her arms around her knees. Another program came on the radio and she put her fingers in her ears. The music left only this bad hurt in her, and a blankness. She could not remember any of the symphony, not even the last few notes. She tried to remember, but no sound at all came to her. Now that it was over there was only her heart like a rabbit and this terrible hurt. The radio and the lights in the house were turned off. The night was very dark. Suddenly Mick began hitting her thigh with her fists. She pounded the same muscle with all her strength until the tears came down her face. But she could not feel this hard enough. The rocks under the bush were sharp. She grabbed a handful of them and began scraping them up and down on the same spot until her hand was bloody. Then she fell back to the ground and lay looking up at the night. With the fiery hurt in her leg she felt better. She was limp on the wet grass, and after a while her breath came slow and easy again. Why hadnt the explorers known by looking at the sky that the world was round? The sky was curved, like the inside of a huge glass ball, very dark blue with the sprinkles of bright stars. warm cedars. She was not trying to think of the music at all when it came back to her. The first part happened hi her mind just as it had been played. She listened in a quiet, slow way and thought the notes out like a problem in geometry so she would remember. She could see the shape of the sounds very clear and she would not forget them. Now she felt good. She whispered some words out loud: Lord forgiveth me, for I knoweth not what I do. Why did she think of that? Everybody in the past few years knew there wasn't any real God. When she thought of what she used to imagine was God was God she could only see Mister Singer with a long, white sheet around him. God was silent— maybe that was why she was reminded. would speak them to Mister Singer: Lord forgiveth me, for I knoweth not what I do.' This part of the music was beautiful and clear. She could sing it now whenever she wanted to. Maybe later on, when she had just woked up some morning, more of the music would come back to her. If ever she heard the symphony again there would be other parts to add to what was already in her mind. And maybe if she could hear it four more times, just four more times, she would know it all. Once again she listened to this opening part of the music. Then the notes grew slower and soft and it was like she was sinking down slowly into the dark ground. Mick awoke with a jerk. The air had turned chilly, and as she was coming up out of the sleep she dreamed old Etta Kelly was taking all the cover. Gimme some blanket------ she tried to say. Then she opened her eyes. The sky was very black and all the stars were gone. The grass was wet. She got up in a hurry because her Dad would be worried. Then she remembered the music. She couldnt tell whether the time was midnight or three in the morning, so she started beating it for home in a rush. it like autumn. The music was loud and quick in her mind, and she ran faster and faster on the sidewalks leading to the home block. B? Y OCTOBER the days were blue and cool. Biff Brannon changed his light seersucker trousers for dark-blue serge ones. Behind the counter of the cafe he installed a machine that made hot chocolate. Mick was very partial to hot chocolate, and she came in three or four times a week to drink a cup. He served it to her for a nickel instead of a dime and he wanted to give it to her free. He watched her as she stood behind the counter and he was troubled and sad. He wanted to reach out his hand and touch her sunburned, tousled hair—but not as he had ever touched a woman. In him there was an uneasiness, and when he spoke to her his voice had a rough, strange sound.