sk.carrie-第3节

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'I　suppose　it　was　the　trampoline。　We　just　。。。　I　won't？'
'No。　But　I　think　Carrie　should　be　allowed　to　go　home　for　the　rest　of　the　day。　She's　had　a　rather　frightening　experience。'　Her　eyes　flashed　a　signal　which　he　caught　but　could　not　interpret。
'Yes；　okay；　if　you　say　so。　Good。　Fine。'　Morton　crumpled　the　form　back　into　the　filing　cabinet；　slammed　it　shut　with　his　thumb　in　the　drawer；　and　grunted。　He　whirled　gracefully　to　the　door；　yanked　it　open；　glared　at　Billy　and　Henry；　and　called：　'Miss　Fish；　could　we　have　a　dismissal　slip　here；　please？　Carrie　Wright。'
'White；'　said　Miss　Desjardin。
'White；'　Morton　agreed。
Billy　deLois　sniggered。
'Week's　detention！'　Morton　barked。　A　blood　blister　was　forming　under　his　thumbnail。　Hurt　like　hell。　Carrie's　steady；　monotonous　weeping　went　on　and　on。
Miss　Fish　brought　the　yellow　dismissal　slip　and　Morton　scrawled　his　initials　on　it　with　his　silver　pocket　pencil；　wincing　at　the　pressure　on　his　wounded　thumb。
'Do　you　need　a　ride；　Cassie？'　he　asked。　'We　can　call　a　cab　if　you　need　one。'
She　shook　her　head。　He　noticed　with　distaste　that　a　large　bubble　of　green　mucus　had　formed　at　one　nostril。　Morton　looked　over　her　head　and　at　Miss　Desjardin。
'I'm　sure　she'll　be　all　right；'　she　said。　'Carrie　only　has　to　go　over　to　Carlin　Street。　The　fresh　air　will　do　her　good。'
Morton　gave　the　girl　the　yellow　slip。　'You　can　go　now；　Cassie；'　he　said　magnanimously。
'That's　not　my　name！'　she　screamed　suddenly。
Morton　recoiled；　and　Miss　Desjardin　jumped　as　if　struck　from　behind。　The　heavy　ceramic　ashtray　on　Morton's　desk　（it　was　Rodin's　Thinker　with　his　head　turned　into　a　receptacle　for　cigarette　butts）　suddenly　toppled　to　the　rug；　as　if　to　take　cover　from　the　force　of　her　scream。　Butts　and　flakes　of　Morton's　pipe　tobacco　scattered　on　the　pale…green　nylon　rug。
'Now；　listen；'　Morton　said；　trying　to　muster　sternness；　'I　know　you're　upset；　but　that　doesn't　mean　I'll　stand　for…'
'Please；'　Miss　Desjardin　said　quietly。
Morton　blinked　at　her　and　then　nodded　curtly。　He　tried　to　project　the　image　of　a　lovable　John　Wayne　figure　while　performing　the　disciplinary　functions　that　were　his　main　job　as　Assistant　Principal；　but　did　not　succeed　very　well。　The　administration　（usually　represented　at　Jay　Cee　suppers；　P。T。A。　functions；　and　American　Legion　award　ceremonies　by　Principal　Henry　Grayle）　usually　termed　him　'lovable　Mort。'　The　student　body　was　more　apt　to　term　him　'that　crazy　ass…jabber　from　the　office。'　But；　as　few　students　such　as　Billy　deLois　and　Henry　Trennant　spoke　at　P。T。A。　functions　or　town　meetings；　the　administration's　view　tended　to　carry　the　day。
Now　lovable　Mort；　still　secretly　nursing　his　jammed　thumb；　smiled　at　Carrie　and　said；　'Go　along　then　if　you　like；　Miss　Wright。　Or　would　you　like　to　sit　a　spell　and　just　collect　yourself？'
'I'll　go；'　she　muttered；　and　swiped　at　her　hair。　She　got　up；　then　looked　around　at　Miss　Desjardin。　Her　eyes　were　wide　open　and　dark　with　knowledge。　'They　laughed　at　me。　Threw　things。　They've　always　laughed；'
Desjardin　could　only　look　at　her　helplessly。
Carrie　left。
For　a　moment　there　was　silence；　Morton　and　Desjardin　watched　her　go。　Then；　with　an　awkward　throat…clearing　sound；　Mr　Morton　hunkered　down　carefully　and　began　to　sweep　together　the　debris　from　the　fallen　ashtray。
'What　was　that　all　about？'
She　sighed　and　looked　at　the　drying　maroon　hand…print　on　her　shorts　with　distaste。　'She　got　her　period。　Her　first　period。　In　the　shower。'
Morton　cleared　his　throat　again　and　his　cheeks　went　pink。　The　sheet　of　paper　he　was　sweeping　with　moved　even　faster。　'Isn't　she　a　bit；　uh…'
'Old　for　her　first？　Yes。　That's　what　made　it　so　traumatic　for　her。　Although　I　can't　understand　why　her　mother。。。'　The　thought　trailed　off；　forgotten　for　the　moment。　'I　don't　think　I　handled　it　very　well；　Morty；　but　I　didn't　understand　what　was　going　on。　She　thought　she　was　bleeding　to　death。'
He　stared　up　sharply。
'I　don't　believe　she　knew　there　was　such　a　thing　as　menstruation　until　half　an　hour　ago。'
'Hand　me　that　little　brush　there；　Miss　Desjardin。　Yes；　that's　it。'　She　handed　him　a　little　brush　with　the　legend　Chamberlain　Hardware　and　Lumber　pany　NEVER　Brushes　You　Off　written　up　the　handle。　He　began　to　brush　his　pile　of　ashes　on　to　the　paper。　'There's　still　going　to　be　some　for　the　vacuum　cleaner；　I　guess。　This　deep　pile　is　miserable。　I　thought　I　set　that　ashtray　back　on　the　desk　further。　Funny　how　things　fall　over。'　He　bumped　his　head　on　the　desk　and　sat　up　abruptly。　'It's　hard　for　me　to　believe　that　a　girl　in　this　or　any　other　high　school　could　get　through　three　years　and　still　be　alien　to　the　fact　of　menstruation；　Miss　Desjardin。'
'It's　even　more　difficult　for　me；　she　said。　'But　it's　all　I　can　think　of　to　explain　her　reaction。　And　she's　always　been　a　group　scapegoat。'
'Urn。'　He　funnelled　the　ashes　and　butts　into　the　wastebasket　and　dusted　his　hands。　'I've　placed　her；　I　think。　White。　Margaret　White's　daughter。　Must　be。　That　makes　it　a　little　easier　to　believe。'　He　sat　down　behind　his　desk　and　smiled　apologetically。　'There's　so　many　of　them。　After　five　years　or　so；　they　all　start　to　merge　into　one　group　face。　You　call　boys　by　their　brother's　names；　that　type　of　thing。　It's　hard。'
'Of　course　it　is。'
'Wait　'til　you've　been　in　the　game　twenty　years；　like　me；'　he　said　morosely；　looking　down　at　his　blood　blister。　'You　get　kids　that　look　familiar　and　find　out　you　had　their　daddy　the　year　you　started　teaching。　Margaret　White　was　before　my　time；　for　which　I　am　profoundly　grateful。　She　told　Mrs　Bicente；　God　rest　her；　that　the　Lord　was　reserving　a　special　burning　seat　in　hell　for　her　because　she　gave　the　kids　an　outline　of　Mr　Darwin's　beliefs　on　evolution。　She　was　suspended　twice　while　she　was　here　…　once　for　beating　a　classmate　with　her　purse。　Legend　has　it　that　Margaret　saw　the　classmate　smoking　a　cigarette。　Peculiar　religious　views。　Very　peculiar。'　His　John　Wayne　expression　suddenly　snapped　down。　'The　other　girls。　Did　they　really　laugh　at　her？'
'Worse。　They　were　yelling　and　throwing　sanitary　napkins　at　her　when　I　walked　in。　Throwing　them　like。。　like　peanuts。'
'Oh。　Oh；　dear。'　John　Wayne　disappeared。　Mr　Morton　went　scarlet。　'You　have　names？'
'Yes。　Not　all　of　them；　although　some　of　them　may　rat　on　the　rest。　Christine　Hargensen　appeared　to　be　the　ringleader　。。。　as　usual。'
'Chris　and　her　Mortimer　Snurds；'　Morton　murmured。
'Yes。　Tina　Blake；　Rachel　Spies；　Helen　Shyres；　Donna　Thibodeau　and　her　sister　Fern；　Lila　Grace；　Jessica　Upshaw。　And　Sue　Snell。'　She　frowned。　'You　wouldn't　expect　a　trick　like　that　from　Sue。　She's　never　seemed　the　type　for　this　kind　of　a　…　stunt。'
'Did　you　talk　to　the　girls　involved？'
Miss　Desjardin　chuckled　unhappily。　'I　got　them　the　hell　out　of　there。　I　was　too　flustered。　And　Carrie　was　having　hysterics。'
'Um。'　He　steepled　his　fingers。　'Do　you　plan　to　talk　to　them？'
'Yes。'　But　she　sounded　reluctant。
'Do　I　detect　a　note　of…'
'You　probably　do；'　she　said　glumly。　'I'm　living　in　a　glass　house；　see。　I　understand　how　those　girls　felt。　The　whole　thing　just　made　me　want　to　take　the　girl　and　shake　her。　Maybe…there's　some　kind　of　instinct　about　menstruation　that　makes　women　want　to　snarl。　I　don't　know。　I　keep　seeing　Sue　Snell　and　the　way　she　looked。'
'Um；'　Mr　Morton　repeated　wisely。　He　did　not　understand　women　and　had　no　urge　at　all　to　discuss　menstruation。
'I'll　talk　to　them　tomorrow；'　she　promised；　rising。　'Rip　them　down　one　side　and　up　the　other。'
'Good。　Make　the　punishment　suit　the　crime。　And　if　you　feel　you　have　to　send　any　of　them　to；　ah；　to　me；　feel　free…'
'I　will；'　she　said　kindly。　'By　the　way；　a　light　blew　out　while　I　was　trying　to　calm　her　down。　It　added　the　final　touch。'
'I'll　send　a　janitor　right　down；'　he　promised。　'And　thanks　for　doing　your　best；　Miss　Desjardin。　Will　you　have　Miss　Fish　send　in　Billy　and　Henry？'
'Certainly。'　She　left。
He　leaned　back　and　let　the　whole　business　slide　out　of　his　mind。　When　Billy　deLois　and　Henry　Trennant；　classcutters　extraordinaire；　slunk　in；　he　glared　at　them　happily　and　prepared　to　talk　tough。
As　he　often　told　Hank　Grayle；　he　ate　class…cutters　for　lunch。
Graffiti　scratched　on　a　desk　in　Chamberlain　Junior　High　School：
Roses　are　red；　violets　are　blue；　sugar　is　sweet；　but　Carrie　While　eats　shit。
She　walked　down　Ewin　Avenue　and　crosssed　over　to　Carlin　at　the　stoplight　on　the　corner。　Her　head　was　down　and　she　was　trying　to　think　of　nothing。　Cramps　came　and　went　in　great；　gripping　waves；　making　her　slow　down　and　speed　up　like　a　car　with　carburettor　trouble。　She　stared　at　the　sidewalk。　Quartz　glittering　in　the　cement。　Hop…scotch　grids　scratched　in　ghostly；　rain…faded　chalk。　Wads　of　gum　stamped　flat。　Pieces　of　tinfoil　and　penny…candy　wrappers。　They　all　hate　and　they　never　stop。　They　never　get　tired　of　it。　A　penny　lodged　in　a　crack。　She　kicked　it。　Imagine　Chris　Hargensen　all　bloody　and　screaming　for　mercy。　With　rats　crawling　all　over　her　face。　Good。　Good。　That　would　be　good。　A　dog　turd　with　a　foot…track　in　the　middle　of　it。　A　roll　of　blackened　caps　that　some　kid　had　banged　with　a　stone。　Cigarette　butts。　Crash　in　her　head　with　a　rock；　with　a　boulder。　Crash　in　all　their　hearts。　Good。　Good。
（saviour　Jesus　meek　and　mild）
That　was　good　for　Momma；　all　right　for　her。　She　didn't　have　to　go　among　the　wolves　every　day　of　every　year；　out　into　a　carnival　of　lau