A WRINKLE IN TIME At school Meg was tired and her eyelids sagged and her mind wandered. In social studies she was asked to name the principal imports and exports of Nicaragua, and though slie had looked them up dutifully the evening before, now she could remember none of them. The teacher was arcastic, the rest of the class laughed, and she flung herself down in her seat in a fury. Who cares about the imports and exports of Nicaragua, anyhow? she muttered. If youre going to be rude, Margaret, you may leave the room, the teacher said. Okay, I will. Meg flounced out. 16During study hall the principal sent for her. What seems to be the problem now, Meg? he asked, pleasantly enough. Meg looked sulkily down at the floor. Nothing, Mr. Jenkins. Miss Porter tells me you were inexcusably rude. Meg shrugged. Dont you realize that you just make everything harder for yourself by your attitude? the principal asked. Now, Meg, Im convinced that you can do the work and keep up with your grade if you will apply yourself, but some of your teachers are not. Youre going to have to do something about yourself. Nobody can do it tor you. Meg was silent. Well? What about it, Meg? I dont know what to do, Meg said. You could do your homework, for one thing. Wouldnt your mother help you? If I asked her to. Meg, is something troubling you? Are you unhappy at home? Mr. Jenkins asked. At last Meg looked at him, pushing at her glasses in a characteristic gesture. Everythings fine at home. Im glad to hear it. But I know it must be hard on you to have your father away. Meg eyed the principal warily, and ran her tongue over the barbed line of her braces. Have you had any news from him lately? Meg was sure it was not only imagination that made her feel that behind Mr. Jenkins surface concern was a gleam of avid curiosity. Wouldnt he like to know! she thought. And if I knew anything hes the last person Id tell. Well, one of the last The postmistress must know that it was almost a year now since the last letter, and heaven knows how many people shed told, or what unkind guesses shed made about the reason for the long silence. Mr. Jenkins waited for an answer, but Meg only shrugged. Just what was your fathers line of business? Mr. Jenkins asked. Some kind of scientist, wasnt he? He is a physicist. Meg bared her teeth to reveal the two ferocious lines of braces. Meg, dont you think youd make a better adjustment to life if you faced facts? I do face facts, Meg said. Theyre lots easier to face than people, I can tell you. Then why dont you face facts about your father? You leave my father out of it! Meg shouted. Stop bellowing. Mr. Jenkins said sharply. Do you want the entire school to hear you? So what? Meg demanded. Im not ashamed of anything Im saying. Are you? Mr. Jenkins sighed. Do you enjoy being the most belligerent, ncooperative child in school? Meg ignored this. She leaned over the desk toward the principal. Mr. Jenkins, youve met my mother, havent you? You cant accuse her of not facing facts, can you? Shes a scientist. She has doctors degrees in both biology and bacteriology. Her business is facts. When she tells me that my father isnt coming home, Ill believe it. As long as she says Father is coming home, then Ill believe that. ................................................................................(to be continued)
Posted on: Wed, 13 Aug 2014 17:11:25 +0000
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