edith

hy Gabrielle Ganelle

4.4.

3.3

"I'm TALKing to you, Edith! And stand up STRAIGHT, I said!" Her father put his paper down. "Edith, what's the matter with you? Why can't you conduct yourself better?... get better grades? . . . be like Marcia?"

How had he ever heard of Marcia? But then EVERY one heard of her sooner or later. Marcia was a popular girl in school: She was an A student and athletic and she liked the boys. Her fingernails were always nicely trimmed and white under the edges, her hair was usually in immaculate little frizettes around her head; her sweaters and skirts had no dog hair on them. She was the perfect active student whose assignment papers were impeccable; who conformed to schedules and rules with militant subordination, and who never had an original thought in her life! Edith traced a design with the toe of her shoe.

"Edith! Don't do that! You'll fray your mother's carpet." Her father waved the report card close to her face so she could feel the puffs of air it made. "Scarcely passing," he said. "What do we have to do with you! You're supposed to be a big seventh grader now."

"I got an average grade, Father."

He slipped thick fingers through his hair. In her quiet obedience her whole nature seemed to him brooding of contumacy; seemed a defiance. There was a complacency about the child that was not childish, Exasperating. "THAT is scarcely a passing grade." He stomped out of the room and Edith returned to her book but could not read.

Before going to school next morning Edith stopped at the candy store. A little bell tinkled when she opened the door. It was cool and dark inside. Edith didn't want candy, or any of the school supplies that were set neatly in rows at the corner. But a pencil or two more wouldn't hurt. She was using lots with her drawing lately.

She turned to the sound of foot steps coming from the rear of the store. A young woman appeared. "Oh, hi, it's you. Sorry I kept you waiting, my hands were wet and I

"That's all right," Edith said. "I really don't mind. I love this store." Edith held onto the eyes of the woman with her own. The young woman's candid blue eyes had the depth of a mirror, yet . . . Edith saw for a moment beyond herself.

"Did you want something?" the clerk said quickly. She fingered the rubber coin mat. It was as though the child knew something. What was the chal-

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