Carrie Chapter Twelve

Tommy suggested they stop at the Kelly Fruit by and by and grab a root beer and a burger. All the other kids would be divergence to Westover or Lewiston, and they would have the place to themselves. Carries face fit up, he verbalize. She told him that would be fine. Just fine.This is the girl they limit caning a monster. I want you to keep that firmly in mind. The girl who could be satisfied with a hamburger and a dime root beer after her save school dance so her momma wouldnt be worried.. .The first thing that struck Carrie when they walked in was Glamour. Not glamour but Glamour. Beautiful shadows rustled ab stunned in chiffon, lace, silk, satin. The air was redolent with the feel of flowers, the nose was constantly amazed by it. Girls in dresses with low backs, with scooped bodices showing actual cleavage, with Empire waists. Long skirts, pumps. Blinding white dinner jackets, cumberbunds, black office that had been spitshined.A few people were on the dance floor, not many y et, and in the soft revolving gloom they were wraiths with bug out substance. She did not really want to see them as her classmates. She wanted them to be beautiful strangers.Tommys hand was firm on her elbow. The murals nice, he verbalise.Yes, she agreed faintly.It had taken on a soft nether light down the stairs the orange spots, the boatman leaning with eternal indolence against his tiller while the sunset blazed roughly him and the buildings conspired together over urban waters. She knew with suddenness and ease that this outcome would be with her always, within hands reach of memory.She doubted if they all sensed it they had seen the world-but even George was silent for a minute as they envisioned, and the scone, the smell, even the sound of theband playing a faintly recognizcapable movie theme, was locked forever in her, and she was at peace. Her soul knew a moments calm, as if it had been uncrumpled and smoothed under an iron.V George yelled suddenly, and led Frieda out on to the floor. He began to do a sarcastic jitterbug to the old-timey big-band music, and someone catcalled over to him. George blabbered, leered, and went into a brief arms-crossed Cossack routine that nearly landed him on his butt.Carrie make a faced. George is funny, she said. undisputable he is. Hes a good guy. There are lots of good people around. Want to sit down?Yes, she said gratefully.He went back to the introduction and returned with Norma Watson, whose hair had been pulled into a huge, teased explosion for the affair.Its on the other SIDE, she said, and her bright gerbels eyes picked Carrie up and down, looking for an exposed strap, an eruption of pimples, any news to remove back to the door when her errand was done. Thats a LOVELY dress, Carrie. Where did you EVER get it?Carrie told her while Norma led them around the dance floor to their table. She exuded odours of Avon soap, Woolworths perfume, and Juicy Fruit gum.There were deuce folding chairs at the table (loop ed and beribboned with the inevitable crepe paper), and the table itself was decked with crepe paper in the school colours. On top was a candle in a wine bottle, a dance programme, a tiny gilded pencil, and both party favours gondolas filled with Planters Mixed Nuts.I cant get OVER it, Norma was saying. You look so DIFFERENT. She cast an odd, furtive look at Carries face and it made her feel nervous. Youre positively GLOWING. Whats your SECRET?Im Don MacLeans secret lover, Carrie said. Tommy sniggered and quickly smo in that locationd it. Normas smile slipped a notch, and Carrie was amazed by her own wit and audacity. Thats what you looked corresponding when the joke was on you. As though a bee had stung your rear end. Carrie found she wish Norma to look that way. It was distinctly unchristian.Well, I have to get back, she said. Isnt it EXCITING, Tommy? Her smile was sympathetic Wouldnt it be exciting if-Cold sweat is running down my thighs in rivers, Tommy said gravely.Norma lef t with an odd, puzzled smile. It had not gone the way things were supposed to go. Everyone knew how things were supposed to go with Carrie. Tommy sniggered again.Would you like to dance? he asked.She didnt know how, but wasnt ready to accommodate to that yet. Lets just sit for a minute.While he held out her chair, she saw the candle and asked Tommy if he would light it. He did. Their eyes met over its flame. He reached out and took her hand. And the band played on.From The Shadow Exploded (pp. 133-134)Perhaps a comp allowe study of Carries mother will be undertaken someday, when the subject of Carrie herself becomes more academic. I myself ability attempt it, if only to gain access to the Brigham, family tree. It might be extremely interesting to know what odd occurrences one might come across two or three generations backAnd there is, of course, the knowledge that Carrie went home on Prom Night. Why? It is hard to tell just how sane Carries motives were by that time. She may hav e gone for absolution and forgiveness, or she may have gone for the express purpose of committing matricide. In any event, the physical evidence seems to indicate that Margaret etiolated was waiting for herThe house was completely silent.She was gone.At wickedness.Gone.Margaret White walked slowly from her bed dwell into the living room. First had come the flow of blood and the filthy fantasies the Devil send with it. indeed this hellish Power the Devil had given to her. It came at the time of the blood and the time of hair on the body, of course. Oh, she knew about the Power. Her own grandmother had it. She had been able to light the fireplace without even stirring from her rocker by the window. It made her eyes glow with(thou shalt not suffer a witch to live)a lovely of witchs light. And sometimes, at the supper table the sugar bowl would whirl madly like a dervish. Whenever it happened, Gram would cackle crazily and drool and make the sign of the barbarous Eye all around her. Sometimes she panted like a dog on a hot day, and when she died of a heart attack at sixty-six, ancient to the point of idiocy even at that early age, Carrie had not even been a year old. Margaret had gone into her bedroom not four weeks after Grams funeral and there her girl-child had lain in her crib, laughing and gurgling, watching a bottle that was dangling in thin air over her head.Margaret had almost killed her whence. Ralph had stopped her.She should not have let him stop her.Now Margaret White stood in the middle of the living room. Christ on Calvary looked down at her with his wounded, suffering, reproachful eyes. The Black Forest repeat clock ticked. It was ten minutes after eight.She had been able to feel, actually feel the Devils Power working in Carrie. It crawled all over you, lifting and pulling like evil, vellicate little fingers. She had set out to do her duty again when Carrie was three, when she had caught her looking in sin at the Devils slut in the next yar d over. Then the stones had come, and she had weakened. And the power had risen again, after thirteen years. immortal was not mocked.First the blood, then the power,(you sign your name you sign it in blood)now a son and dancing and he would take her to a roadhouse after, take her into the parking lot, take her into the back seat, take her Blood, fresh blood. Blood was always at the root of it, and only blood could expiate it.She was a big woman with massive upper arms that had swarfed her elbows to dimples, but her head was surprisingly small on the end of her strong, corded neck. It had once been a beautiful face. It was still beautiful in a weird, zealous way. notwithstanding the eyes had taken on a strange, wandering cast, and the lines had deepened cruelly around the denying but oddly weak mouth. Her hair, which had been almost all black a year ago, was now almost white.The only way to kill sin, original black sin, was to drown it in the blood of(she must be sacrificed)a repe ntant heart. Surely God understood that, and had laid His finger upon her. Had not God Himself commanded Abraham to take his son Isaac up upon the mountain?She shuffled out into the kitchen in her old and splayed slippers, and opened the kitchen utensil drawer. The knife they used for gondolaving was long and sharp and bowed in the middle from constant honing. She sat down on the high stool by the counter, found the sliver of whetstone in its small aluminium dish, and began to set off it along the gleaming edge of the blade with the apathetic, fixated attention of the damned.The Black Forest cuckoo clock ticked and ticked and finally the bird jumped out to call once and promulgate eight-thirty.In her mouth she tasted olives.THE SENIOR CLASS PRESENTS SPRING BALL 79May 27,1979 Music by The Billy Bosman, BandMusic by Josie and the Moonglows amusementCabaret Baton Twirling by Sandra Stenchfield500 MilesLemon TreeMr Tambourine ManFolk Music by John Swithen and Maureen Cowan The Stre et Where You LiveRaindrops Keep Fallin on My HeadEwen High School Chorus link Over Troubled WatersCHAPERONESMr Stephens, Miss Geer, Mr and Mrs Lublin, Miss DesjardinCoronation at 1000 P.M.Remember, its YOUR prom make it one to remember alwaysWhen he asked her the third time, Carrie had to acquiesce that she didnt know how to dance. She didnt add that, now that the rock band had taken over for a half-hour set, she would feel out of place gyrating on the floor.(and sinful)yes, and sinful.Tommy nodded, then smiled. He leaned forward and told her that he hated to dance. Would she like to go around and visit some of the other tables? Trepidation rose thickly in her throat, but she nodded. Yes, that would be nice. He was seeing to her. She must see to him (even if he really did not expect it) that was part of the deal. And she felt dusted over with the enchantment of the evening. She was suddenly hopeful that no one would stick out a foot or slyly paste a kick-me-hard sign on her back or suddenly turn out water in her face from a novelty carnation and retreat cackling while everyone laughed and pointed and catcalled.And if there was enchantment, it was not divine but pagan.Carrie? a voice said hesitantly.She had been so wrapped up in watching the band and the dance floor and the other tables that she hadnt seen anyone coming at all. Tommy had gone to get them punch.She turned around and saw Miss Desjardin.For a moment the two of them merely looked at each other, and the memory travelled between them, com(she saw me she saw me naked and screaming and bloody)without words or thought. It was in the eyes.Then Carrie said shyly You look very pretty, Miss Desjardin.She did. She was dolled up in a glimmering silver sheath, a perfect complement to her blonde hair, which was up. A simple pendant hung around her neck. She looked very young, young enough to be attending rather than chaperoning.Thank you. She hesitated, then put a gloved hand on Carries arm. You are beautifu l, she said, and each word carried a peculiar emphasis.Carrie felt herself blushing again and dropped her eyes to the table. Its atrociously nice of you to say so. I know Im not not really but thank you anyway.Its true, Desjardin said. Carrie, anything that happened before well, its all forgotten. I wanted you to know that.I cant forget it, Carrie said- She looked up. The words that rose to her lips were I dont blame anyone any more. She bit them off. It was a lie. She blamed them all and always would, and she wanted more than anything else to be honest. But its over with. Now its over with.Miss Desjardin smiled, and her eyes seemed to catch and hold the soft mix of lights in an almost liquid sparkling. She looked across toward the dance floor, and Carrie followed her gaze.I remember my own prom, Desjardin said softly. I was two inches taller than the boy I went with when I was in my heels. He gave me a corsage that clashed with my gown. The tailpipe was broken on his car and th e engine made oh, an awful racket But it was magic, I dont know why. But Ive never had a date like it, ever again. She looked at Carrie. Is it like that for you?Its very nice, Carrie said.And is that all?No. Theres more. I couldnt tell it all. Not to anybody.Desjardin smiled and squeezed her arm. Youll never forget it, she said. Never.I think youre right.Have a lovely time, Carrie.Thank you.Tommy came up with two Dude cups of punch as Desjardin left, walking around the dance floor toward the chaperones table.What did she want? he asked, putting the Dude caps down carefully.Carrie, looking after her, said I think she wanted to say she was sorry.(momma untie your apron strings im getting big)and she wanted it that way.Look, he said as they got up.Two or three stagehands were sliding the King and Queen thrones from the wings while Mr Lavoie, the head custodian, directed them with hand motions toward preset marks on the apron. She thought they looked quite Arthurian, those thrones, dre ssed all in blinding white, strewn with real flowers as well as huge crepe banners.Theyre beautiful, she said.Youre beautiful, Tommy said, and she became quite sure that nothing bad could happen this night perhaps they themselves might even be voted King and Queen of the Prom. She smiled at her own folly.It was nine oclock.Sue Snell sat quietly in the living room of her house, hemming a dress and listening to the Jefferson Airplane Long John Silver album. It was old and badly scratched, but soothing.Her mother and father had gone out for the evening. They knew what was deviation on, she was sure of that, but they had spared her the bumbling talks about how proud they were of Their Girl, or how glad they were that she was finally Growing Up. She was glad they had decided to leave her alone, because she was still ill-fitting about her own motives and afraid to examine them too deeply, lest she discover a jewel of selfishness glowing and winking at her from the black velvet of her s ubconscious.