Read Online The Window by Jeanette Ingold - Free Book Online
Authors: Jeanette Ingold
Tags: Young Adult
Ads: Link
me. My bed is turned down, my window open, the lace curtains down from their hooks.
I don't want to be pulled out there, not now, not when, for once, things are close to perfect.
But I hear a voice calling, Gwen's mother calling her, and I can't shut it out. I'm drawn, slow and unwilling, into Gwen's world. Slow like a spoon being pulled from honey. Past limp curtains that hang summer still even though it's December, I'm pulled into a syrup night.
I feel as though I'm somersaulting slowly through the thick night into a motionless day.
Turning in slow motion to see my room. Its painted pink walls bounce sunlight so bright it hurts my eyes. A clutter of things that aren't mineâbobby pins and nail polish and movie magazinesâcover the dressing table.
It is a day that feels no degrees, and Gwen is stretched out on the bed, looking too hot to move. I can feel the uncertainty in her, knotting her belly....
"Gwen, GwwennnNNN ... I need you!"
Gwen rolled onto her stomach. If she didn't answer, maybe her mother wouldn't come for her. Wouldn't need her enough to climb all those stairs to come get her.
Hot. It seemed like the hottest August ever.
She pulled the back of her shirt out of her shorts and waited for the fan to come around and dry her back. Rolled over and bared her front. Felt the sweat evaporate so fast her stomach chilled into goose bumps even while the rest of her poured more sweat.
She covered her ears against her mother's footsteps coming up the attic stairs.
"Gwen, didn't you hear me ... Gwen! Pull down your clothes and get off that bed. That's no place to be in the middle of the day, anyway, and you without a shred of modesty. I don't know what..."
"Gwen, why didn't you..."
"Gwen, how many times have I told you..."
"I'm coming, Mama," said Gwen, sitting up as if she was. But when her mother's footsteps went away, Gwen dropped back. Remembered...
"Gwen, come away with me," Paul had said, his face sweaty against hers. "Gwen, I love you."
And Gwen had wondered if she would ever know him well enough to say, "You were the first person to tell me that." Probably not, he'd think she was saying he was the first boy. How do you tell someone you're from a house where nobody says "I love you"?
"Gwen," he'd said, "please come with me."
And she'd known he'd meant to Louisiana, where they'd find someone who'd not push questions about how old she was and who'd marry them. Marry them, and when Paul left to join the Air Force, his going wouldn't be an endâthey'd be married.
"OK," she'd said. It had seemed so much better than staying home and snapping beans forever in the hot summer.
She'd made up a story for her mother about visiting a girlfriend and she'd gone off with Paul.
Come back with Paul three days later, in time for him to report for induction. "I'll send for you as soon as I can," he'd promised.
Come home alone and told her mother she'd had an all right visit with her girlfriend.
And now the afternoons were hotter than ever, and she had to tear up Paul's letters once she read them because they started, "Dear Wife."
Dear God, fifteen. What had she done?
Her mother was again at the foot of the stairs. "Gwen, I want you downstairs
now,
and working..."
Chapter 10
S ATURDAY MORNING I sleep late and stay in bed even later, my thoughts going back and forth between Gwen and the dance.
Gwen, secretly married at fifteen?
Me, a success at a dance? I run my fingers along my face and wonder if it has changed from the way I remember Am I really beautiful, like Ted said?
I hear Emma and Gabriel in the hall beneath the attic stairs. Gabriel's heavy footsteps come partway up to my door, but I hold my breath and keep perfectly still. He goes back down, says, "I think she's still asleep, Emma."
"Let her be," Emma answers. "I used to sleep in after a dance, too."
And a moment later I hear Emma laugh. "Put me down, silly. I've too much to do for dancing in the middle of the day."
But Gabriel's
I don't want to be pulled out there, not now, not when, for once, things are close to perfect.
But I hear a voice calling, Gwen's mother calling her, and I can't shut it out. I'm drawn, slow and unwilling, into Gwen's world. Slow like a spoon being pulled from honey. Past limp curtains that hang summer still even though it's December, I'm pulled into a syrup night.
I feel as though I'm somersaulting slowly through the thick night into a motionless day.
Turning in slow motion to see my room. Its painted pink walls bounce sunlight so bright it hurts my eyes. A clutter of things that aren't mineâbobby pins and nail polish and movie magazinesâcover the dressing table.
It is a day that feels no degrees, and Gwen is stretched out on the bed, looking too hot to move. I can feel the uncertainty in her, knotting her belly....
"Gwen, GwwennnNNN ... I need you!"
Gwen rolled onto her stomach. If she didn't answer, maybe her mother wouldn't come for her. Wouldn't need her enough to climb all those stairs to come get her.
Hot. It seemed like the hottest August ever.
She pulled the back of her shirt out of her shorts and waited for the fan to come around and dry her back. Rolled over and bared her front. Felt the sweat evaporate so fast her stomach chilled into goose bumps even while the rest of her poured more sweat.
She covered her ears against her mother's footsteps coming up the attic stairs.
"Gwen, didn't you hear me ... Gwen! Pull down your clothes and get off that bed. That's no place to be in the middle of the day, anyway, and you without a shred of modesty. I don't know what..."
"Gwen, why didn't you..."
"Gwen, how many times have I told you..."
"I'm coming, Mama," said Gwen, sitting up as if she was. But when her mother's footsteps went away, Gwen dropped back. Remembered...
"Gwen, come away with me," Paul had said, his face sweaty against hers. "Gwen, I love you."
And Gwen had wondered if she would ever know him well enough to say, "You were the first person to tell me that." Probably not, he'd think she was saying he was the first boy. How do you tell someone you're from a house where nobody says "I love you"?
"Gwen," he'd said, "please come with me."
And she'd known he'd meant to Louisiana, where they'd find someone who'd not push questions about how old she was and who'd marry them. Marry them, and when Paul left to join the Air Force, his going wouldn't be an endâthey'd be married.
"OK," she'd said. It had seemed so much better than staying home and snapping beans forever in the hot summer.
She'd made up a story for her mother about visiting a girlfriend and she'd gone off with Paul.
Come back with Paul three days later, in time for him to report for induction. "I'll send for you as soon as I can," he'd promised.
Come home alone and told her mother she'd had an all right visit with her girlfriend.
And now the afternoons were hotter than ever, and she had to tear up Paul's letters once she read them because they started, "Dear Wife."
Dear God, fifteen. What had she done?
Her mother was again at the foot of the stairs. "Gwen, I want you downstairs
now,
and working..."
Chapter 10
S ATURDAY MORNING I sleep late and stay in bed even later, my thoughts going back and forth between Gwen and the dance.
Gwen, secretly married at fifteen?
Me, a success at a dance? I run my fingers along my face and wonder if it has changed from the way I remember Am I really beautiful, like Ted said?
I hear Emma and Gabriel in the hall beneath the attic stairs. Gabriel's heavy footsteps come partway up to my door, but I hold my breath and keep perfectly still. He goes back down, says, "I think she's still asleep, Emma."
"Let her be," Emma answers. "I used to sleep in after a dance, too."
And a moment later I hear Emma laugh. "Put me down, silly. I've too much to do for dancing in the middle of the day."
But Gabriel's
Similar Books
