Camilla by Madeleine L'Engle Page A

her.
    â€œBeing polite again. Honestly, Camilla, Bill’s an awful fool. I think one reason I’m so fond of him is he’s such a fool. But I really don’t see why he and Mona ever married. He hasn’t the slightest idea what Mona’s about. Mona’s an intellectual and Bill’s just an overgrown athlete who thinks he’s an intellectual. But actually he’s just all brawn and no brain. You know, all biceps and muscles and nothing else. Biceptual.”
    She looked in her desk and pulled out
Silas Marner
, which we were doing in English, and handed me a piece of paper that was stuck in between the pages. “It’s from Frank,” she said reluctantly.
    I read the note and it said, “This is Friday so you don’t have school tomorrow, so you don’t have to do homework this afternoon. Let’s continue yesterday evening’s conversation. My school doesn’t let out till after yours so come on down to the apartment with Luisa and I’ll pick you up there.”
    And suddenly as I read the note I remembered my telephone conversation with Jacques that night before. I could not meet Frank because I had to go to Jacques’s. I wanted to go to Frank’s. I did not want to go to see Jacques, but I knew that I must; and at the thought that I had to see him my heartflipped over inside me like a pancake. I had to see him for Mother, so that I could tell him never to call again, never to come to the apartment again, so that I could tell him that everything was all right with Mother and Father, and Mother didn’t care about Jacques anymore.
    Before I could stop myself (so strong had the habit of telling Luisa everything become) I blurted out, “I can’t see Frank because I have to go see Jacques.” And then I wished I had bitten off my tongue. I knew that no matter how many questions Luisa asked me I couldn’t ever tell her about Mother, though I knew that if Mona tried to cut her wrists Luisa would tell me.
    I wished I hadn’t said anything about Jacques. Now Luisa would ask me questions, questions. She might even want to go along with me, and Luisa is the hardest person in the world to put off with any evasion.
    Her blue eyes darkened the way they always do when she is excited, and she cried, “You’re going to see Jacques!”
    â€œYes,” I said, and just then the bell rang and Miss Sargent came in.
    At recess there was a gang of girls around us, and I laughed and talked and acted like a kid just to avoid giving Luisa a chance to get me off into a corner. I even listened while Alma Potter, a girl I don’t like, tried to show off and make everybody think how grown-up and sophisticated she was.
    â€œWell,” she told us, “I wore my new wine-colored coat this morning and on the bus a cop sat down beside me. He was kind of cute but awful old, of course. And I kept noticing his arm.”
    â€œWhat about his arm?” Luisa asked.
    â€œWell, it kept creeping around me. Well, after all, I’m not going to take that kind of thing from a cop. So I said to him, ‘The arm of the law may be long,’ I said, ‘but it can reach too far.’ “
    I laughed with the other kids, but all the time I was thinking nastily, I wonder where she heard that?
    Anyhow it helped to keep me from having to talk with Luisa. I was afraid that if I did I might blurt out about Mother as I had blurted out about Jacques, and I knew that if I did that I’d hate myself forever. Somehow it’s never embarrassed me when Luisa’s talked about Mona, but I always find myself wishing she didn’t know about Jacques.
    But after school I was not able to escape her and she cornered me and said, “I’m going with you.”
    â€œI’d rather you didn’t.” I tried to keep my voice very quiet and firm.
    â€œOh, I won’t go in with you or anything. I just think someone ought to go along with you and