Inside Madeleine by Paula Bomer Read Free Book Online Page B

“It gets all tangled up and I don’t sleep well.”
    “Well, you could wear it when you come over at night,” whispered Melissa, who then looked at Nancy. They giggled in silence. This involved putting their hands over their mouths and shaking ever so slightly while smiling with their teeth shut. Then they turned their eyes on Ruthie.
    “It’s just that we don’t like looking at your underwear,” said Melissa. She had waist-long hair, the color of wheat. It reminded Ruthie of a horse’s mane. Suddenly, Ruthie missed her horse, very un-creatively named Sandy, back in Indiana.
    This was one of those situations that Ruthie played one of two ways; one, she could acquiesce, acknowledging the superiority and rightness of her wealthier, more sophisticated friends. Or, she could play the tough girl from the wrong side of the tracks. The latter worked only some of the time. If it did work, she would garner some fear and awe. When it failed, she was met with either pity or repulsion, or some combination of the two.
    “Deal with it,” Ruthie said. She didn’t whisper as well as she should. She was naturally a very loud girl, a Midwestern trait, for sure. “It’s not like we don’t all have the same parts. Don’t be such prudes.” Then she pointed at her crotch. “You each have one of these, too. Or at least I hope you do.”
    Nancy and Melissa looked stunned. Part of this was because of how stoned they were. Ruthie tried to read if it had worked or failed. Not that it really mattered. Sometimes, she just tried her hardest and hoped for the best.
    “Whatever,” said Nancy.
    “Oh fine, I’ll wear my nightgown next time,” Ruthie said.
    The following day was Saturday, a half day of classes at Lyndon. Ruthie was not accustomed to school on the weekends and it still was a terrible affront to her. She struggled through Advanced Biology, having entered because science had oncebeen her best subject. Next came English, where they discussed Shakespeare’s
Richard III
. Was he a bad man? Certainly it was a little bit more complicated than that. Or at least the ways in which he was bad were worthy of discussion. Her teacher was a kind, very tall Asian-American man named Mr. Lin. And lastly, Ruthie chewed her nails through Algebra. Done! She headed back to the dorm where she changed into jeans. Only on Saturday afternoons and Sundays were the children allowed to wear jeans. Thank God Levi’s were a universally okay thing to wear. Alicia was at her desk, despondent over a textbook.
    “Classes just ended, Alicia, give it a break!” Ruthie said as she searched for her cigarettes.
    Alicia looked up from where she sat. “I’m going to fail. I’m going to fail everything and I have nowhere to go. I can’t go back to Atlanta. You smoke pot all day with those rich girls, and you still get better grades than me.”
    “I wouldn’t say I get very good grades,” said Ruthie. She was getting all C’s, except maybe in English and Art a B. This, after being a straight-A student in South Bend.
    “You’re not failing.” Alicia turned back to her textbook.
    “Ask for extra help.”
    “I have.”
    Ruthie didn’t know what else to say. “I’m going to the butt room.”
    “I figured.”
    “I’ll see you later.”
    The butt room was located in the basement of Condon Hallright next to the laundry, which Ruthie greatly underused, as opposed to the butt room, which was like a second home to her. An airless, dingy room with three wooden benches and littered with cigarette butts, it had a pathetic fan that whirred on the ceiling. It was the only place the girls were allowed to smoke. Melissa and Nancy were there, puffing on Merits, which Ruthie switched to after being made fun of for her Kools.
    “Ruthie, we’re sneaking out tonight and going over to Bob and Jesse’s room. You should come. They have a great weed and sometimes other stuff.”
    Ruthie wanted to hug them but then thought better. “Okay, what