Somebody Say Something

   Somebody Say Something

Suzanne Marsh

I stood there waiting for hell to break loose, I knew I was in trouble the moment Sister Mary of the Cross called me into her office. Her expression was more dour than usual, what had I done this time? Sister began to pace the floor as she became frustrated looking for the exact words to describe whatever I had done this time. The year was 1964, I was a sophomore in high school at a private all-girls school. I knew I was pushing my luck but attempted to look sheepish without smiling, if I did that I could be doing penance for the rest of the semester. I waited finally Sister stopped pacing and turned to face me, she looked into my eyes attempting to find my soul. She must have been convinced I had a soul she just couldn’t seem to find it.

“Megan, you have been here for a little over a year, the sisters have tried to turn

you into a good Christian young woman. I have no idea why we have failed, perhaps we

have not prayed enough for your soul. You do have a soul you know. Your uniform is a

disgrace, the supposedly white collar and cuffs are almost black, and your socks don’t match

one is black and the other is blue! Your locker should have a huge sign on it: OPEN AT

YOUR OWN RISK. The girls in the Riders Club are people you should not associate

with. Your cousin Anne never causes us any agitation, you on the other hand are a

prime agitator. Now let us get to what you were doing in the cloister? That

is our home, we don’t explore your home, do not explore ours. For penance, you will spend

a week on your knees in chapel asking God to make you a better student and person. Be

sure you have your rosary, every moment that you are not in class. Do I make myself

clear?”

Sister made herself abundantly clear, that a whole week on my knees praying was not exactly my idea of a fun way to spend my extra time, not that I had very much of it. I was on my way to English class when my friend and cohort Jean came up behind me and tapped me on the back:

“How did everything go with Sister Mary of the Cross, was she really angry? I told you to

wait for me, we would go together.”

I was in no mood to speak to Jean or anyone else:

“I should have waited, I never would have gotten caught. I have chapel all week in between

classes. Man was she steamed, I guess I will have to behave for a while, she even threatened

to call my mother.”

Jean motioned to keep me to keep moving:

“Sister is watching us from her office she must really be angry, especially if she threatened

to call your mom, that is usually the last thing they do before you are asked to leave.”

I strode into English class, and noted I did not have my English book or the homework I had done this morning on the bus ride into Mount Carmel High School for Girls. Sister Mary Catherine was a difficult enough teacher but if I did not have my homework and if she got a look at my collar and cuffs I would be spending class in the Home Economics room laundering them. What a horrible thought, I sprang up out of my seat, ran down two flights of stairs, and opened my locker. Everything I had stuffed in there came tumbling out, I had to find that homework. Finally, I found it, stuffed everything back in there, and slammed the door shut; I began to run back up the stairs, tripped going up the stairs, slid back down on my belly, ungracefully landing at Sister Mary Catherine’s feet. I don’t know who was more taken aback she or I. I looked up into her puzzled face as I stammered:

“Sister Mary Catherine this not not what it looks like, I forgot my homework assignment

I ran back to my locker then was headed back to your classroom when I tripped and here I

am.”

Sister Mary Catherine struggled to keep a straight face:

“Megan, I have heard some stories in my day but this one takes the prize. Since you

are going to be late I suggest you go to the Home Ec room and wash your

collar and cuffs. There is bleach in the bottom cubbard, as well as soap. For

your penance for being late read four chapters of Silas Marner and be ready to give

the class your ideas about those chapters.”

There was not much I could say, if I mumbled under my breath it could make matters worse, I was enough trouble to begin with. I dragged my feet on the way to the Home Ec classroom, the very thought of washing, searching, and ironing my collar and cuffs was more than I wanted to even think about much less do. I also knew that if I did not do as I was told I could be expelled, which would not go over well with either of my parents. I slowly opened the door to the Home Ec room, and there stood my cousin Ann:

“I heard about your latest exploit this morning, Sister Mary of the Cross was very

displeased.”

This was the last thing I needed today as she continued:

“Sister Mary Catherine sent me down here to be sure you wash your collar and cuffs,

using the correct amount of bleach, soap, and starch. The irons are in the small cupboard

over here next to the window. I am going to help you with the collar and cuffs so you

pass muster. Just out of curiosity what was the cloister like?”

As we began to wash my collar and cuffs I told her about the cloister:

“Honestly Ann, I was disappointed, I thought there would at least be a few hairshirts or

whips for self-flagellation. The cloister is more like and individual bedroom, a bed,

a dresser, a small closet, and a crucifix over the bed. I don’t know what the big deal

was to begin with; there was nothing really to see.”

Ann snickered as she plunged a cuff into the soapy water. The door to the Home Ec room opened there stood Jean, shaking her head:

“Who did you provoke this time? Ann do you and Miss Can’t Leave Well Enough Alone

need any help?”

Ann and Jean chuckled to which I replied:

“Is nobody going to say it?”