Cutler 02 - Secrets of the Morning

with each other, all of us taking cues from each other. I just know we'll have curtain call after curtain call after curtain call. Don't you?" she said, smiling at me.
    I didn't know what to say. Curtain calls for what? Using the bathrooms fairly? Not getting into trouble with boys? What cues did she mean? All I could do was nod.
    She opened the door and stepped into the bedroom.
    "It might not be as large and elaborate as what you've been accustomed to, but I am rather proud of my accommodations," she said.
    I didn't reply. I could see it would do no good to defend myself right now. Her impression of me had already been poisoned by Grandmother Cutler.
    The room was sweet. There were two white post beds with headboards and a night stand between them. The night stand had a lamp with a bell-shaped shade on it. The floor wasn't carpeted, but there was a rather large pink throw rug between the two beds. The bedding matched the pink in the rug. Each of the two small windows on the right above the two student desks were covered with white cotton curtains that had lace edging. There were shades on the windows, both drawn up at present to permit whatever sunlight squeezed in between this building and the one beside it. There were two dressers, and a large closet with a sliding door.
    Agnes told me the bed on the right and the accompanying dresser were mine. Trisha had a picture of an attractive couple who I guessed were her parents on her dresser and a picture of a handsome boy who could be her brother or her boyfriend beside it. On her desk were textbooks and notebooks neatly piled be-side each other.
    "Well, I'll leave you to get yourself settled in," Agnes said. "Trisha should be coming home from school in an hour or so. Remember, you are a guest in my home," she said and started out. At the door she spun around and added, "Act One," and left.
    I put my suitcases down and gazed around the room again. This was to be my new home for a long time. It was cozy and warm, but I was sharing it with another girl and that was something that both frightened and excited me, especially after the warnings Agnes had given me. What if we didn't get along? What if we were so different that we ended up hardly speaking to each other? What would happen to my dream of becoming a singer?
    I began to unpack, hanging up my clothes and putting my underthings and my socks into the dresser drawers. I had just placed my suitcases at the rear of the closet when the door was suddenly opened and Trisha Kramer burst into our room. She was an inch or so taller than I was and wore her dark brown hair drawn back from her face and pinned up in a chignon that I thought very sophisticated. Over black leotards she wore a floating chiffon black dress, and on her feet were silver dancing shoes.
    Trisha had the brightest green eyes I had ever seen with eyebrows trimmed just the way fashion models wear theirs. Although she had a perfect little nose, her mouth was a little too thin and too long. But her soft, wonderful peaches and cream complexion and sleek figure went far to compensate for any imperfections.
    "Hi," she exclaimed. "I'm Trisha. Sorry I wasn't here to greet you, but I had dance class," she added and did a pirouette. My smile widened into a laugh. "That, I want you to know, took me nearly a month to perfect."
    "It was good," I said, quickly nodding. She bowed.
    "Thank you, thank you. Don't do another thing," she said before I could utter a word or move. "Just sit down and tell me everything about yourself. I've been starved . . . starved!" she emphasized with big eyes, "for female companionship. The only other person living here now is Bones and you've already met Agnes," she said, swinging her eyes toward the door and back.
    "Bones?"
    "Arthur Garwood. But let's not talk about him just yet. Come," she said, taking my hand and pulling me to sit on my bed. "Talk, talk, talk. Where did you go to school before? How many boyfriends have you had? Do you have one now? Do your parents really own a famous resort in Virginia?"
    I just sat there smiling.
    "Maybe tomorrow we'll go to see a movie. Would you like that?" she asked, grimacing in anticipation of a yes.
    "I've never been to a movie," I confessed. "What?" She sat back and stared at me, her smile frozen. Then she leaned forward.
    "Don't they have electricity in Virginia?" she asked. For a moment we stared at each other, and then I started to cry.
    Perhaps it was all of it finally coming to a climax: