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JustDIY by Diana Johnson

Prologue In 1856, after a devastating tornado ripped through the tiny town of Chateaugay, New York, destroying much of its municipal structures, Adele St. James opened her Country Day School for the village’s young people. She accommodated the classrooms in row houses, spared by the twister’s wrath, furnished them with items from her own home, and collected books and supplies from neighboring counties. Prior to the storm, only the town’s well-to-do sent their children to school, but Adele opened her doors to every child including those of the migrants who’d contributed to the rising census after the arrival of the railroad opened the town to new commerce. A single schoolteacher of modest means, Adele worked tirelessly to educate her students despite the criticism and interference from some prominent citizens. One such opponent was Jewel Webster Howerton, the wife of cheddar cheese magnate, Bradshaw Howerton of the New England Howertons. Mrs. Howerton objected to her sons being schooled in such primitive environs alongside the offspring of apple pickers and coal miners. For years she campaigned the Franklin County Commission to take the school over and relieve Miss St. James of her post, but the town was attempting to rebuild and as long as the children had a place to learn, the commission refused to intervene. Eventually she went underground with a small group of investors and covertly created a charity which began contributing donations for improvements and additions to the school. Grateful for the support and without knowledge of the source or

motives behind the gifts, Adele accepted them for the good of her students. The school’s development progressed and soon plans for new construction were presented. The new campus would house multiple buildings: one structure for primary grades and another, the senior school. Two more buildings were included for housing teachers, mostly single men and women who commonly lived where they taught in that era. When Miss St. James was asked to become Head Mistress of The St. James Academy, she was so honored that the new grounds were to bear her name, that she eagerly agreed to the implementation of a board of directors to help oversee the establishment and its operations. After the school opened to students, it would only take two terms for Mrs. Howerton and her cronies to overtake the board, remove Adele as Head Mistress and begin restricting admission based on income and ethnicity. As the trustees became more and more discriminatory, the school’s census dropped so dramatically that continuing to operate the sprawling campus while funding it from their own pocketbooks became increasingly harder to do. So, while Adele St. James quietly moved to a nearby county and continued to teach in the public-school system, Howerton and the board decided to convert the facility to a boarding school and to start charging tuition for students wishing to study at the academy. As with most things in our misguided attempts at capitalism, this country has always gravitated toward assuming the superiority of any version of a thing that costs more. This bet paid off for the officials of St. James Academy and the establishment quickly rose up the ranks

of private schools whose admission was sought after by droves of wealthy, spoiled brats whose families attempted to boost their own value by touting their attendance there. As a result, the campus grew yet again to house the boys and girls in separate dormitories and the schools themselves were revamped to accommodate the growing number of students. Following both World Wars and the stock market crash, the old money behind the academy waxed and waned sometimes barely hanging on to the school’s elite status. But as with a score of the behemoths created by money and prejudice during the adolescence of our country, the academy survived right up until the last days of the twentieth century. Ironically though, in the last decades of operation, the board saw fit to grant scholarships to a choice few young boys and girls who didn’t come from wealthy families, but like the kids Adele St. James intended to educate, just needed a place to learn with their friends. The story to follow is about the friendship between two such young women.

Part One 1974-78

1 Orientation Parents were not permitted beyond the parking lot on the day of orientation at the prestigious St. James Academy. The young people being deposited were walked as far as the school yard gate, kissed and hugged, advised, and then welcomed beyond the familiar onto the aging campus by a few equally aging faculty members. Each child was issued three uniforms and permitted two suitcases of personals and a satchel for school supplies. Hupp and Eloise O’Hanley walked Aggie as far as the tailgate of the family truck where she promptly stopped them from advancing. “I can manage from here, Dad.” “We can take you to the gate, doll.” “Let your dad walk you to the gate, Agatha Rose. You go on, Hupp. We’ll say our goodbyes here.” Eloise held her daughters face in her hands firmly and smiled. “I love you, Aggie Rose. You know that?” The girl nodded despite the grip her mother maintained on her head. “Well, you remember that.” “Yes ma’am. Love you too, Mom.” Aggie turned away and caught up to her father dragging her suitcases behind him.

Diana Johnson 2 In the space directly across the parking lot from the O’Hanley’s, Patsy and Zeke pulled in with MaryAnne in the back. Zeke drove of course; Patsy’s muscle coordination had deteriorated to the point that it wasn’t safe for her behind the wheel. He reached into the backseat for her cane and MaryAnne grabbed it. “This is good, Zeke. I can manage from here.” Patsy shot her husband a convoluted look of acceptance tinged with rejection; a combination she was feeling more and more frequently with the advancement of her symptoms. She touched his arm. “It’s ok, babe. She wants to go in on her own. I get that.” “Yeah, it’s like you keep saying, I need to learn how to do stuff myself, right?” “I guess, whatever you two say. At least let me get your bags out of the back.” MaryAnne waited until his door was shut and leaned up into the space between the front seats. “I’ll call as often as I can, Mom. And I’ll send you letters with all the gossip.” She could see that her mother had begun to flush and fiddle with her fingers, a sign MaryAnne knew all too well as Patsy’s ‘trying-not-to-cry’ move. She twisted around to hug her mother’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Mom.” “I love you too, Angel-face.”

Just DIY 3 Patsy stroked her girl’s long chestnut hair with her weakening hands and breathed in the smell of her shampoo, then kissed her head and let her go. MaryAnne was out of the car and around to the trunk in a flash. She took the suitcase handle from her stepdad and popped up onto her toes to kiss his cheek. As she sprinted toward the school, she turned back only for a second. “Thanks, Zeke!” Aggie and her dad had stopped short of the bottleneck at the gate to say goodbye and MaryAnne went whizzing past only to come to an abrupt stop just ahead of them. Aggie, barely registering the blur as she blew by, returned her attention to her sweet father. “I wish I didn’t have to do this, Dad.” “I think it’ll be good for you, doll. I am going to miss having you around, though; you know you’re my favorite.” He reached for his daughter with the worn hands of a woodworker and the weary heart of a loving father pushing his youngest out of the nest. “I love you, Aggie Rose. I love you just like you are. You remember that.” The fourteen-year-old wrapped her spindly arms around his neck and smashed her cheek into his. “I love you, Dad.” She left a kiss where her words had been, and they broke apart each one turning away without looking back. Aggie looked down at her feet in an effort to check

Diana Johnson 4 herself, to keep from losing it, and found her eyes focused on MaryAnne’s golden brown calves, exposed only because she had shoved her white knee socks all the way down to the tops of her oxfords. Hers were a stark contrast to Aggie’s pink and freckled legs and the momentary study of them was the perfect distraction. The group inched forward a little at a time until they were all moving with some fluidity toward the auditorium. Edging into the courses of wood and iron seats, MaryAnne and Aggie took their places among the assembly, smiling at the others with curious courtesy. The students wrestled their belongings under their feet in the tight rows, excusing themselves as hair and uniforms got tugged and squished by the occasional overstep. The sounds of friendly chatter filled the hall as returning upperclassmen reunited with their cliques and the newbies summoned the nerve to introduce themselves. MaryAnne was first to stretch out her hand. “I’m MaryAnne O’Hara!” “Hi. I’m Aggie Rose O’Hanley.” “AggieRose, one word?” “No. It’s Agatha Rose, really. But two. Aggie and Rose.” “That’s pretty. I’m one. M-A-R-Y-capital-A-N-N-E. I don’t know why my mom had to be so complicated. And an E on the end. What’s that?” MaryAnne couldn’t quit talking. Of course, she was nervous but there was something so sweet and

Just DIY 5 accommodating about Aggie’s big green eyes that set her at ease right away. “I just go by Aggie.” She would have the last word before the auditorium was called to attention. The presentation of instructors, counsellors, coaches, and administrators was followed by the rules of conduct and class schedules. Dean Springer, whose title and job description had evolved considerably since the academy’s namesake Adele St. James’ first tenure as Head Mistress, seemed competent and approachable in her welcoming address. She spoke of the history of the institution, the campus’ growth and development, and the stellar reputation the school touted. She then turned her attention to the expectations that went hand-in-hand with a nationally ranked and recognized facility like St. James, Honor, Etiquette, Responsibility, Privilege, Esteem, and Standards. The words were displayed on a huge chalkboard to the right of the podium and Dean Springer tapped the rubber tip of her pointer to the capital letters of each tenet, emphasizing their acronym. A senior boy sneezed, “Herpes!” into the stifling air and the educator engaged in a slow blink that lasted the length of a shallow, tired sigh and continued. The gag ran on pervasively in every copy of these principles listed in the student handbook, posted in each classroom, and displayed on countless banners, posters, and bulletin boards throughout the hallowed halls of every building on campus. All jokes aside, the tenets that were counted as so integral to the success of St. James students were second nature to Aggie and MaryAnne. They’d been reared by

Diana Johnson 6 and around some of the best kind of people. But a grand majority of the enrolled came from backgrounds which, despite being infinitely better off economically, were shaky on such virtues. Many of the school’s wealthiest benefactors had been sending their offspring to St. James for generations with no clear understanding before, during, or after they graduated of these basic ideals. It seemed that some people thought that paying to be associated with those who expect such moral behavior counted as one actually procuring it. The girls would encounter this painful truth often along their journey at St. James. But for now, they had to settle in. The students were lined up, instructed to separate into their respective groups, and peeled off to follow the Residential Administrators to their designated dorms. The young gentlemen trekked across the grounds to their halls of residence, and the young ladies were taken to the buildings closer to the school itself. The tradition that dictated the seniors were permitted the upper floor rooms was initially begun to demonstrate their maturity, and assumed they needed less supervision from the adults residing on the ground floor adjacent to the offices. This also afforded the older students the opportunity to make as much noise as they wanted while the underclassmen were powerless to complain about it. Some traditions fueled the division between the ranks and this one ignited the divide on MaryAnne and Aggie’s very first day. Miss Findley, their RA, was a middle-aged woman of some heft. She stood a towering 5’11” in low heels and her paisley polyester dress stretched over buxom curves and down to ample calves. Upon her gathering their group in the lobby of Wright Hall, their

Just DIY 7 home for the foreseeable future, Aggie couldn’t help but fixate on the woman’s sturdy legs. Smiling to herself, she also realized that she might be developing a thing for legs as this was the second pair she’d taken note of that day. Miss Findley called the young women to order. “Attention, ladies! When I call your name, you will report to the floor and room to which you are assigned.” A few hands raised. “And before you ask, the answer is ‘No’! No one will be permitted to trade assignments or rooms.” More hands. “No exceptions!” Now the woman looked down at the defeated students. “So, if there are no further questions, please listen for your name.” She referred to her list, clutching her clipboard and a giant ring of keys in one hand, checking off names and numbers with the pen in the other. The seniors were called and excused first, then the juniors, and so on. When Miss Findley called and dismissed the final freshman, Aggie and MaryAnne still remained. The woman looked over her cheaters to discover the girls. “Oh! What have we here? I must have missed someone. Names?” “O’Hanley, Agatha.”

Diana Johnson 8 Aggie instantly regretted the military style in which she’d responded, but in a split-second decision to mimic her classmate, MaryAnne doubled down. “O’Hara, MaryAnne, sir!” “That’s enough of that nonsense. Ladies, this is serious, you’re not on my roster.” She instructed them to take a seat and she marched into the office to investigate. MaryAnne began speculating. “Probably some stupid mistake. I’ll bet it happens every year and Findley always acts like it’s the first time this school has ever messed up.” “Yeah, you might be right. But honestly, I wouldn’t mind if they left me out of this deal altogether. I’m not exactly thrilled to be here.” MaryAnne urged with an elbow. “Aww, come on, sister! We’ve arrived! No more keeping us down on the farm.” Aggie hoped out loud. “Are you from a farm?” “No, it’s just an expression.” “Well, I am from a farm.” “Oh! I didn’t mean anything by it.” MaryAnne felt the red warmth of regret rising from her collar and tried to recover. “Where abouts?”

Just DIY 9 “Just outside of West Fort Ann. Without the ‘e’.” “Touché!” MaryAnne clapped her hands together and took the opportunity to redirect the conversation. She squared herself around on the wooden bench they shared and locked onto Aggie’s face. “That’s in Washington County, just the other side of Lake George from me! Fort Ann was actually named for Queen Anne of Britain, who did spell her name with an ‘e’, but the original fort was built and destroyed so many times, it probably just got lost in the shuffle!” Even as Aggie found herself leaning back a little from her new friend’s enthusiasm, she was being drawn in. “How do you know so much about Fort Ann?” “The only history I remember learning was about the territories around the lake because I used to live at the Grand Chancellor Hotel.” “You lived there?” “All summer long for as long as I can remember. I was actually born there -” “Alright, girls!” Miss Findley had abruptly returned. “We have you figured out, now.” Aggie was anxious. “Is there a problem, Miss Findley?”

Diana Johnson 10 “No, we simply didn’t count you in the original numbers because you’re the only scholarship recipients we’ve enrolled this term.” A flash of embarrassment overtook both girls and their backs straightened against their shame. “Not to worry though, ladies. We have made provisions. Follow me.” The girls trailed the paisley covered rump of the administrator up the winding stairs past the first landing for the freshman. The rotund woman’s legs swished loudly as her pantyhose heated with friction. The girls couldn’t help but notice the nylon humming as they brought up the rear past the half pace to the sophomore floor. They climbed up to the next, housing the junior rooms and paused on that landing to let Miss Findley catch her breath. She ever-so-slightly parted her knees in an effort to quench the fire certain to ignite should she take another step. And when her thighs cooled enough, she licked the sweat beaded on her fuzzy upper lip and continued to the topmost floor of the dorms. When they arrived on the top floor, the girls looked at one another, wide-eyed. Could they have hit the jackpot, advancing to the senior hall on the very first day of school? What luck! Findley, nearly breathless now, pointed to the right end of the hallway split in two by the stairs they’d just ascended. “Girls, down at that far end are the showers and lavatories.” She paused, took another salty lick, and waved them to follow to the left. “But we’re going this way.”

Just DIY 11 She labored down the darkened hall, segmented by rectangles of light from multiple dorm rooms open and full of busy girls unpacking and visiting. At the end of the long, paneled corridor, Miss Findley dug in her dress pocket for a single key. She unlocked the door and the three left the rest of the population behind. They had entered a wing of the building originally afforded the cleaning staff and grounds keepers. Two narrow steps down took them into a short hall with two doors on the left, one door on the right, next to a back stairwell, and one door straight ahead. She used the same, single key she’d produced to get beyond the main hall, to unlock that door. The girls followed her into a sprawling room, swimming in light from a wall of windows on either side, where two iron beds were centered. Wardrobes bookended the door, and desks with gooseneck lamps and Windsor chairs with their backs to the beds overlooked the grounds in both directions of the rambling campus. A four-drawer chest where a mix matched pair of shaded lamps sat, separated the beds. “This will be your home for the next four years, girls.” A chime of the watch locket Miss Findley wore pinned to her dress alerted her to another duty. She handed Aggie the key and left the freshmen on their own. “Get unpacked and return to the lobby by eleven, sharp!” The pair, agog, walked around the spacious room, opening doors and drawers, and checking out the yawning view. A giggle escaped Aggie and she clamped her fingers over her lips.

Diana Johnson 12 MaryAnne assured her. “No…you’re right. We just got away with murder!” The teens threw themselves on their beds and squealed with delight! »« All the young girls, with the exception of the seniors, poured from the aging building’s stairwells, and congealed in the lobby of the dorm. Miss Findley and an assistant handed out name badges to be pinned to every uniform lapel before the newcomers exited for the classrooms. Aggie’s and MaryAnne’s were blank white rectangles with blue label maker stickers adhered at the last minute. They didn’t care. Tagged and accounted for, the group squeezed through the double doors and out onto the grounds. Concrete paths winding around gardens, fountains, and lampposts guided them to the main school buildings. The sugar maples scattered about the lawn were heavy with bright gold, rust, and red foliage. The canopy intensified the yellow light of the mid-morning sun that owned the clear September sky. The chill of fall was in the air, but the wool uniform coats and knee socks were more than enough to keep it at bay as the girls neared their terminus. The veins of the other paths from the other dorms, converged in front of the central academy steps and Dean Springer appeared at the entrance to announce that upon entering they would find senior classmen to guide them to their homeroom. The day was meant to familiarize the students with the layout of the school.

Just DIY 13 “Each course session will be only twenty minutes long today, students, including an abbreviated lunch period. And our official first day will conclude with dinner in the cafeteria after which you are free to return to your dorm and prepare yourself to begin in earnest tomorrow morning. So again, welcome and good luck!” Springer turned to enter, and the masses followed to commence with the day. O’Hanley and O’Hara were directed to their homeroom, on the ground floor, two doors to the right of the auditorium with which they’d already become familiar. Room 105 marked the start of their journey alphabetically linked. Their classmates were the freshman from the L’s through the O’s. Their homeroom teacher, Mrs. Amos, handed out a campus map, calendar, cafeteria menu, and class schedules and read a sample of the announcements that they could expect to be briefed on mid-morning, between second and third period. Near the back of the room, MaryAnne inched her desk closer to Aggie’s and, holding her schedule in her outstretched hand to compare to her friend’s, scanned the slips for shared classes. “First period, English.” “Algebra.” “Ok. Second period, History.” “Biology.” “Back here for homeroom, then my third period class is Theatre.” “Me too.”

Diana Johnson 14 “Yes!” MaryAnne’s enthusiasm was louder than she intended, and the room responded with a collective stare in the direction of the pair. Mrs. Amos stopped briefly to raise an eyebrow from behind her bulletin and then resumed reading. Aggie sunk lower into her seat and MaryAnne shrugged and waved the onlookers back to their own business. She snatched the roster from her roommate’s hand and finished the comparative examination of their daily routines as Mrs. Amos concluded her instruction and allowed them free time until the bell. “I have Home Ec but I don’t see that on yours, Aggie.” Snatching the paper back, Aggie examined it herself. “I’m not taking Home Ec, MaryAnne. I’m taking VoTech.” “VoTech? What is VoTech?” “Shop Class.” MaryAnne’s confusion was evident by the look on her face. “Home Ec is like the easiest A ever.” “Not for me. I’d catch something on fire if I had to work in a kitchen.” “What do you do in Shop Class?” “Woodworking, welding, electrical stuff.” “And you won’t catch on fire welding wood?”

Just DIY 15 Aggie laughed at her ignorant friend as the bell sounded. “I’ll be fine.” “Whatever. At least we’ll be together in Theatre.” The girls rose and exited homeroom with the rest of their class. Before they separated into the masses in the halls for the rest of their day, Aggie flashed the only key to their room at MaryAnne to remind her. “Find me in the cafeteria.” “You bet!” MaryAnne would have met her at lunch even if that weren’t the case. She had already awarded Aggie best friend status; her roommate would be slower to commit.

16 The Howerton Sisters The cafeteria was a clanging swarm of kids that first day, lacking the order of the normal routine yet to establish itself. Lines going every which way and pointing and redirecting coming from those in-the-know, the girls found each other with little trouble. MaryAnne stood to wave Aggie over to a table she had already claimed by imposition. She edged the girl next to her toward the long end of the bench affording Aggie the end spot and began the introductions. “This is Aggie, my roommate. Ags, this is Sarah, Morgan, and Katherine, but she goes by Kate.” Aggie nodded, digesting her new nickname and her first bite of fruit cocktail. “They’re all freshman too, Ags. This is the frosh table!” MaryAnne lifted a plastic fork to declare their territory and nearly stabbed the eye of a passerby in the process. The whole group winced at the near miss. The would-be victim dodged the tines. Whoa! Watch it!” MaryAnne shrunk. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Recovering her momentum MaryAnne continued with the personal details she was sure would endear her and Aggie to their new friends. “Ags and I are in Theatre third period together. I’ve always wanted to study the theatre. I hope to be

Just DIY 17 discovered one day and act on TV. Maybe on our senior trip. I hear they go to New York City or Chicago every year!” Kate, already fascinated, probed the girls. “And you, Aggie? Do you want to act too?” “No. Well, not exactly. I want to have my own talk show. But I want to know the whole thing…production, direction. I don’t just want to be the host. I want it to be my show. Like Donahue.” MaryAnne took over the questioning. “But you took shop! What does that have to do with anything?” “Set design? Ever heard of it?” Kate grinned devilishly. “Isn’t Shop Class full of boys?” MaryAnne took the opportunity to boost her friend in the last word on the subject. “A: it’s 1974 and girls can do anything boys can do. And B: look at her, you guys! What boy is going to object to a beautiful redhead in their VoTech class?” Just then a clot of older girls gathered at the end of their table, the shadow encroaching on Aggie’s space, and their leader spoke up. “You’re the scholars this term, aren’t you?” MaryAnne was confused. “Scholars?”

Diana Johnson 18 “Yeah, that’s what we call the poor kids that come here on scholarship…scholars.” Aggie looked up from her plate into the eyes of this new tormentor. “Yes, we are the scholars.” Cocking her head to one side, the senior looked Aggie up and down. “I’m Danielle Howerton.” She waited for a reaction. When she got none, she repeated herself. “Howerton?” This time Aggie shrugged in response and the girl mocked her. “Oh my God! They don’t even know where they are!” The gang around her exchanged smirks and stares of amazement and she laid it out. “The Howerton family built this academy.” MaryAnne tried a shot at some levity to defuse the tension. “Oh, so your people were carpenters?” “Hardly!” All the girls jumped! “I’m Danielle Howerton, great-great-great-grand daughter of Jewel and Bradshaw Howerton, founders of this institution.”

Just DIY 19 She gawked at the girls’ lack of recognition. “And this is my sister, Thomasina.” She nudged a smaller version of herself out of the fray with an elbow. Aggie was growing tired of the power play and took the initiative to shut it down. “Ok. We got it, Dan and Tom Howerton. Hello! We’re going to eat now.” “Danielle and Thomasina, scholar!” Danielle slammed her tray down so hard, her milk carton launched onto the table. MaryAnne reached over, picked it up between her thumb and middle finger, her pinky delicately raised, and placed it on her own tray, then bowed and broke into a royal accent. “Thank you. I was wondering if we would be treated to seconds.” The Howerton’s glowered down at the new girls then met each other’s eyes as eerie smiles crept over their faces and Danielle ended the exchange with one word uttered through clenched teeth. “Cute.” With a flick of her head the menace abandoned the territory, taking her posse with her and the frosh table breathed a collective sigh of relief. Kate spoke her fear of the threat. “That can’t be good.” MaryAnne was pumped.

Diana Johnson 20 “Shit! They don’t scare me. You scared, Ags?” She checked her friend who was nearly finished with the contents of her lunch tray already. Aggie tipped her milk up to empty the carton, cutting her eyes toward her brazen roommate. »« The quick walk back to the dorms after classes was uneventful for the girls, surrounded by the few new additions to their group. Their way only seemed a little more precarious when they left the other newbies on the second floor and trotted up the stairs. Thomasina Howerton was a freshman…on the freshman floor, and she and her senior sister, Danielle were poised in her freshman doorway when the girls turned on the landing and kept on up the stairs. The two filed in behind Aggie and MaryAnne and followed past the sophomore and junior tiers to the senior hall. The girls were oblivious to their tail in the noisy stair traffic. They made it through their private door at the end of the hall and were just about to unlock their dorm room when Thomasina shocked them with a loud bark. “Hey!” Both the girls jumped as the sound bounced around the walls of the remote hall and MaryAnne’s reaction was just as loud. “Jesus! You scared the shit out of me!” “Ha! I distinctly remember hearing that we didn’t scare you.” The younger Howerton defaulted to her sister.

Just DIY 21 “Right Danielle? Isn’t that what we heard?” “Yep. You scared too, Ags?” Aggie suddenly decided nicknames were just fine among this foursome. “What do you want, Dan?” “I want you to give me that key.” “This key?” She dangled it from her middle finger in salute to the request. “It’s absurd that two freshman scholars should get their own wing in this dorm, when there is a legacy living on the second floor. My sister is not going to be outranked by you two.” MaryAnne moved in front of Aggie, stopping Danielle from advancing over the shoulder of the younger Howerton. “Sorry girls, but Miss Findley was pretty clear that no one could switch rooms for any reason. And you wouldn’t want your sister living in the servant’s quarters of this building. Would she, Aggie?” “Noooo. You wouldn’t want to live out here where the help had to sleep. Tommy, honey, this is the scholar’s wing. No legacies past that threshold. So, off you go.” Thomasina looked back at her big sister for her next move and the elder straightened herself and turned to reenter the main building. With her hand on the knob, she issued a warning to the closed door.

Diana Johnson 22 “This isn’t over.” MaryAnne grabbed the key from Aggie’s finger, closed the door tight behind their new enemies, and locked it. “That was intense!” “Yes, intense. Now, can I please get into my room?” Aggie waved her friend away from the static of the confrontation and MaryAnne jumped to her side to grant them entry. “Those Howerton’s are some fierce bitches. We’ll have to watch out for the two of them.” Aggie flopped onto her mattress and puffed out an indifferent breath. “They’re just bullies. My brothers taught me all about bullies.” “But these are rich bullies.” “Money or no, a bully’s a bully.” Aggie flipped onto her belly. “What difference does money make in this situation?” “I don’t know.” MaryAnne pulled her suitcase from under her bed and opened it. “They seemed to think it mattered.”

Just DIY 23 “It might matter to them, but we’d be dumb to let it matter to us.” MaryAnne beamed! Us -plural pronouns! They were a unit! She gathered the few things she had packed on top of a smaller case in her luggage which she opened to unveil a portable turntable. “How about this, roomy?” Aggie smiled. “Nice!”

24 Dean, Bob, and Other Things MaryAnne ceremoniously placed the record player in the neutral zone, atop the chest between the beds, a gesture of solidarity and good will, and made the pronouncement. “We will co-DJ. You have fair and equal rights to all records played on this machine, going forward.” Aggie bowed. “Thank you. What do you like to listen to?” “Oh, you know, the usual. Top 40, I guess.” “Elton John? ABBA? Chicago?” MaryAnne responded cautiously. “Yeah…you too?” “M-hm.” Aggie was growing uncomfortably warm. A girl’s taste in music could bury her. She thought pop was a safe bet. She waited to see if MaryAnne revealed any more before she judged if she could answer truthfully. MaryAnne broke. “Uuggghhhh! I can’t! If we’re going to be roommates, you’re going to find out sooner or later. I hate that K-tel shit!” “Whew, me too!” The girls dropped onto their respective beds and Aggie started over.

Just DIY 25 “So, what do you really love?” MaryAnne popped off her mattress and dove for her satchel retrieving three LPs, all still protected by their cellophane wrappers. Holding their covers against her chest she grimaced. “Don’t judge me.” She flipped the albums and hid behind them; Aggie delighted in the revelation. “Dean Martin?! Oh my God!” “I know, it’s dumb but -” “No!” Aggie’s tone begged her friend to wait while she dug in her belongings for her own favorites. Now she was the one hesitating before the reveal. “I cannot judge, lest I be judged.” She lowered her head and presented the records with solemn reverence. “Robert Gerard ‘call-me-Bob’ Goulet!” “Aaaahhhhh!” Their crazy fan screams went out into the room even as the rest of the campus was quieting. Aggie started the evening off with Summer Sounds from 1969, while they finished unpacking and MaryAnne began dissecting. “I don’t know what it is about the crooner. They’re so much more serious than these boys everyone is all jazzed up about.”

Diana Johnson 26 “They just look like they smell so good! Not like brothers or dads, but like men. Grown men.” “Because they are grown men! They’re not some teenager trying to sing about love they haven’t had yet. They’ve had it, done it, sucked it, licked it, and slapped it on a bingbong! A grimace scrunched Aggie’s nose in response to her friend’s well-established over-the-top remarks. “I don’t know about all that. But I’ve always thought Robert Goulet’s eyes were flat-out gorgeous.” “And Dean has those yummy, milk chocolate brown eyes and those sexy, full lips!” Aggie played at her impression of him. “The better to drink you with my dear!” “No. Aggie, you know that’s a gag?” “Huh?” “The drunk thing Dean does in his Vegas acts, and with the Rat Pack. But never with Jerry, I don’t think.” “I’m not following.” MaryAnne educated her friend. “He didn’t really drink on stage. He was never drunk during his acts. He only acted drunk for the humor of it.” “I think you’re thinking of Albert Brooks.”

Just DIY 27 “No. That’s Foster Brooks. Albert is that Jewish guy with the afro who made that one comedy album. He’s on Johnny Carson all the time.” “Oooohhh. So, the drunk thing was an act?” “Yep. Iced tea. That’s the rumor. To look like J&B Scotch. That’s what I read anyway.” The girls continued to compare their celebrity crushes, unpack family pictures, refold their tee shirts, and stow their socks and underwear. They hung their spare uniforms and prepared to stroll to the end of senior hall to wash for dinner. Carefully locking their room and hall doors behind them, Aggie tucked the key into her pocket and followed MaryAnne to the lavatory at the far end of the passage. When they reached their destination MaryAnne leaned into the closed door and met resistance. She rebounded and turned the knob the other way and put her shoulder into it, but still no give. Aggie shoved her aside to take a turn. “What is there a trick to it, or something?” MaryAnne turned away from the door to take in the length of the hallway and saw nearly every doorway manned with a smug, smirking senior posturing with arms folded. Danielle appeared from her room and headed toward the girls. MaryAnne flicked the pleats of her friend’s skirt to signal her to stop. “There’s a trick all right.” Danielle started in.

Diana Johnson 28 “Oh, sorry girls, I guess no one told you. That’s Luann and Monica in there. They throw shotput on the track team. And they don’t take kindly to sharing the facilities with some people.” Aggie gave up on the door and turned to face the others. “Seriously? You’re not going to let us use the bathroom up here?” “You may reside above the freshman floor, but you will not live above the freshman floor. Your lavatory and shower rooms are three flights down.” Danielle drew her hand in close to her face to wave as if amusing a child. “Have a nice night, scholars.” Aggie brushed past MaryAnne and headed for the stairs, her friend at her heels. As they descended, the laughter trailing off behind them, MaryAnne began to worry. “We’re going to have to take our shower stuff down three flights every day? I’m not a morning person, Ags. How the hell am I going to get ready in time to make the tardy bell first thing?” They reached the freshman floor and stopped. “This sucks!” Aggie snapped. “Will you quit it! If they think they’re getting to us, they’ll keep pulling crap like this and we won’t have any peace in this place. Let’s just wash our hands and

Just DIY 29 faces and go eat. Why is it so hard to get through a meal around here?” MaryAnne nodded and followed obediently. »« Dinner was surprisingly good, and the girls were convinced that they wouldn’t starve to death over the next four years. Even though their bellies were full, they craved the tastes of home. On the walk back to the dorm, the two compared their favorites, each one growing more and more interested in the other’s life. “Fresh eggs make all the difference.” The pride Aggie felt in her family’s farm products was evident. “They look different, they taste different. You don’t even have to keep them in the fridge.” “Eggs?” “Nope. Mom keeps a bowl of fresh eggs on the counter. Dad and the boys eat about three dozen a day between’em.” “Never heard of keeping eggs out.” MaryAnne was always around the kitchen, but she didn’t learn much. She was only now suspecting that the staff at the Grand just let her hang out there and nibble as they prepared food to keep her from getting in the way. “My mom worked in the laundry which was right under the main kitchen. She used to send me upstairs with the aprons, tablecloths, cloth napkins, and tea towels for the chef. Then I’d sit on the counter and sample the goods.”

Diana Johnson 30 Aggie pressed her friend. “What was the best thing on the menu?” “Crab!” “Mmmm.” “Any kind of recipe with crabmeat in it - I was all over that shit! Crab cakes, crab balls, crab bisque.” “Did they show you how to cook it?” “No. They might have if I ever asked them. It never dawned on me to ask them.” “I like fish too.” “Fish? Crab isn’t fish, Ags. Crab is shellfish.” “Yeah. I guess you’re right, there is a difference. But I like plain old fish-fish too.” “Fish is ok, but shellfish is the best!” MaryAnne continued her lists. “Buttery shrimp scampi, lobster with butter, crab legs swimming in butter.” “Sounds like maybe you like your butter with a hint of shellfish.” “Shit, I never thought about that either. I love butter!” They talked all the way to the front porch of their building and stopped when MaryAnne began to whine. “Man, I hate the thought of going past all that business again just to get to our room.”

Just DIY 31 “Then let’s not.” “What?” “Let’s go the back way.” MaryAnne thought for a second, then remembered it too. “That staircase! Come on!” The girls tore off around the great structure and finding a basement entrance around the far side, Aggie tried their key. It worked! They navigated the dark, labyrinthian cellar until they arrived at the narrow stairwell and began their ascent. Loping upward, incited by their secret freedoms, they reached the short hall outside their room without interference. MaryAnne celebrated. “This is sweet! No one can bother us as long as we always come and go through our secret passage!” Aggie let them in. “But we can’t, always.” “What? Sure we can, we just did.” Aggie cautioned her naive friend. “If we never come out into the senior hall, they’ll know we’ve found a new way in and out. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to run into Luann and Monica in that dark basement!” “You’re right. And it still doesn’t help us with the shower situation. Unless…”

Diana Johnson 32 Aggie waited for the other shoe and MaryAnne held her hand out for the key. Her friend surrendered it and she walked out into the hall, eyeing the three other doors. With Aggie just behind, she played at gameshow host. “And now, Cheryl will show us what’s behind door number one?” The key fit the lock as it had all the others before, and the pair opened the door to a small but ample private bathroom. A clawfoot tub with shower hose sat under a window that had been painted over, a toilet, fore, and a sink, aft. MaryAnne started to squeak when Aggie grabbed her mouth from behind and whispered into her friend’s thick hair. “Not a sound…not a word…not even a hint…to anyone. You got that?” The muzzled MaryAnne nodded her head in agreement and when she was released whispered back. “Let’s try the other two.” The room between the bathroom and hall entrance was as big as their dorm, shelf-lined with a window seat, and the one between their room and the stairwell across the hall, appeared to be utilitarian in nature. They located the valves for the radiators and hot water tank, a fuse box, and a dumbwaiter they presumed went all the way to the basement. MaryAnne marveled at Aggie’s knowledge of the plumbing and electrical works. Even though her stepfather was a tradesman, he never taught her how any of it worked. They checked the faucets and turned the valves on to empty the rust from the pipes. They checked the lights and replaced the fuses

Just DIY 33 that had expired. They worked into the night equipping their private little suite. When the water had time to heat up, Aggie went first in the shower, smiling to herself thinking how proud her dad would be of the job she’d done. MaryAnne waited patiently for her turn, writing a letter to her mom and listening to the velvety voice of Dino, on his 1970 country/folk bestseller, For the Good Times.

34 Going Home Thanksgiving break was quick, but valuable. Aggie’s brother, Jack, had come for her and they made arrangements to deposit MaryAnne at The Grand on their way around the tail of Lake George. Her mother and Zeke were visiting ‘the family’ at the hotel and wanted her first holiday home to be filled with all the busy, beautiful people who loved her. The farm was busy too. Jim and his fiancé, Beth, were home from Albany. Bob was on leave from the Navy, which meant he’d miss Christmas with them, but that would have to be ok. Rex was sober, clean, and out of the apartment over Hupp’s Hardwoods in downtown West Fort Ann. Their mother couldn’t live with the drinking after his accident, so their father fixed up the place above his storefront to keep an eye on him. A full decade since the crash and still no one expected anything else from Rex. Even though icy roads were to blame, he couldn’t live - soberly that is - with the fact that his best friend died in the wreck. He’d stay clean for a month or two and get right back on the sauce. It was coming up on the anniversary and the family knew he was trying hard not to mess up the holidays…again. And then there was Jack. Jack tried college for a minute, got ‘excused’ from the army in basic training, and was now begrudgingly helping Hupp and Eloise on the farm, when he wasn’t babysitting his big brother. Aggie’s mother seemed plumper than she remembered at the end of the summer. She stood on the porch in her calico apron and the swirling snow flurries with her arms outstretched for her daughter. Hupp heard

Just DIY 35 the truck pull up and hurried from the garage, stomping off his boots on the backdoor mat. Aggie hugged her mother then wiggled free and made a beeline for her dad. He was thinner, she thought. The momentum behind her hug nearly knocked him over. “Steady, doll. You’re gonna send me ass over tin cup.” She drew in the scent of his flannel, and Camels, and sawdust. Now she was home. The boys teased her and quizzed her about her new school. Beth was sweet and quiet offering to show her something new with her hair if she wanted a change from her signature ponytail. Eloise was pink from her labors in the kitchen and the joy of all her children gathered under one roof again. After dinner when the men had retired to the living room and Beth and Aggie had run the matriarch out of the kitchen they started the dishes and gossiped about West Fort Ann. “I know you’ve been away too Beth, but have you heard anything about Bill?” “No, honey. Bill’s gone. And never coming back is my guess.” The older girl stopped drying the dish in her hand and touched Aggie’s hair. “Honey, a pretty girl like you, you don’t need someone like Bill.” Aggie stopped washing.

Diana Johnson 36 “I know how it is with your first crush. But you need to forget all about that now. That’s not what you want.” Aggie smiled at how little her future sister-in-law knew about what she wanted. “There it is. There’s that winning smile. That’s what’s gonna get you your very own TV show some day, Aggie Rose and I can’t wait!” Aggie plunged her hands back into the suds and her heart back into being home and being loved. Even if she never felt understood, she knew she was loved. Beth listened intently to the teen and her life plans. Though she and Beth were cut from very different cloths, Aggie loved her brother’s girl and longed for the day when they would become real sisters. »« “MARYANNE!!!” the party shouted as the teen entered the service entrance to the main kitchen. She was hailed like a soldier back from the war: hugged and kissed and held at arm’s length to get a good look at. The service staff of The Grand Chancellor on Lake George, who made up the closest thing to a family MaryAnne ever knew and spoiled her shamelessly, was a motley crew. And they’d all stayed over to celebrate Thanksgiving with their favorite kid. Everyone was there. Joseph Moynihan and his deaf brother Jonathan were the groundskeepers. Jonathan ran the big mowers and snowplow because the sound didn’t bother him. When she was little, MaryAnne asked every summer, “Is he deaf because he runs the loud machines, or does he run the loud machines because he’s

Just DIY 37 deaf?” Every year she was given an answer that escaped her on her first day back to school in the fall. Hank and Peg Halpenny managed the boat rentals and all the lifeguards. Peg taught MaryAnne how to swim when she was a tot and Hank let her steer the motorboat at the end of the season when they needed to bring in the safety rope dotted with blue and white floats that cordoned off the swimming area. The Halpenny’s stayed on in the winter tending the shallows of the lake as an ice rink through the spring. Frank Belcastro ran the restaurant and the formal dining room that was used for big conventions and important weddings, and his daughters Lisa and Celeste ran the pool and lakeside snack bars, respectively. Celeste always let MaryAnne scoop her own ice cream. Lisa was older and not nearly as warm, but she was never unkind and would occasionally put two straws in the Coke floats she made knowing it got a grin out of MaryAnne every time. Dr. Haynes was the manager in charge of the whole staff. He ran a tight ship, but he too was hospitable and not just to the guests but to those who worked in their service, and lucky for MaryAnne, also their families. He wasn’t a real doctor, but everyone called him Dr. Haynes; another bit MaryAnne quizzed her mother about at the beginning of every summer and forgot again by the first week in September. Summers at the The Grand Chancellor Hotel were MaryAnne O’Hara’s favorite thing in the world. Ever since she could remember, her mother had worked the season in service at the majestic resort.

Diana Johnson 38 Patsy was barely seventeen when she had her daughter, on the fifth of June 1960. When the rabbit died, her friends at Butler High School, called it a ‘virgin birth’ because she was that one girl who got pregnant the first time she did it. The carnie that called her to go out on the last night of the fair, never called her back. Her parents called it a sin and kicked her out. Patsy packed some clothes and her books in the 1950 Henry J her Grand-dad Bill left her when he died and drove north. The shore of Lake George was as far out of southwestern Pennsylvania as she could get on her babysitting money. When she arrived at The Grand, she negotiated a room in exchange for a job and started the next day in the laundry, folding linens and filling the housekeeping carts. Once the baby came, Patsy was allowed to keep her close, carrying the little thing around in wire laundry baskets lined with warm white towels. Of all the employees at The Grand though, Mrs. Norman was MaryAnne and Patsy’s favorite. Dottie Norman ran the hotel laundry. She had taken pity on Patsy from the start; they all had a strange sense Mrs. Norman had a sad baby story of her own; and fell in love with her newborn baby girl. They were closer than blood relatives and MaryAnne loved her. It was Dottie who allowed Patsy to stay on through to the end of her pregnancy, something that was frowned upon in prestigious places like the hotel even as the Age of Aquarius was dawning. When The Grand hosted guests like the bishop of the Albany diocese, the image of an unwed mother in the hotel’s service was not one management wanted openly conveyed. Dottie saw that the teenager remained out of sight once she began to show and Patsy was grateful for her

Just DIY 39 efforts. Mrs. Norman even kept Patsy on the payroll without Dr. Haynes becoming the wiser while she was still in the hospital and then when she returned to the hotel but was unable to do more than care for the baby. The whole laundry staff covered Patsy’s duties until she was back on her feet. The young mother got back to work as soon as she could, determined to return all the good will she’d been granted. Once she was regularly working her full shifts, it was Dottie Norman who encouraged Patsy to attend classes in nearby Warrensburg, just a few ticks west of Lake George. When MaryAnne was just three months old, Dottie watched the baby while Patsy took a course to get her G.E.D. and then enrolled in night school in a small teaching college from which she graduated early with her education degree. MaryAnne was five when her mother secured a position on the faculty of Warrensburg Elementary, where she had done her student teaching. Dottie gave them some old furniture and a few dishes, and they made a home out of a third story, two-bedroom in the Libby apartments, within walking distance of the school. Patsy and her kindergartener started the term together that fall, away from their friends at the lake but every summer that followed, the pair spent the whole season from Memorial Day to Labor Day working and playing among the resort crowd at The Grand. And every summer, MaryAnne loved it! The girl made her way around the room chatting with everyone as they prepared dinner and when she

Diana Johnson 40 finally got to Dottie, she blew her bangs and widened her eyes to take her in. “Doooottiiiieeee! It’s so good to be home!” “We’ve missed you so much, MaryAnne!” Dottie’s eyes were welling as she grabbed MaryAnne’s face, kissing her long-lost girl over and over. “Look at you. You’re grown already!” MaryAnne closed her eyes and twirled for Dottie to size her up thoroughly; and when she felt properly assessed by the woman, she opened them and confronted her. “Dottie, where’s my mother?” Dottie lost her shine in an instant and her brows caved in above her worried eyes. “They’ll be here real soon, honey.” “Is everything ok?” “Everything is –.” Suddenly, there was a mechanical bang and the back door swung open. It was Patsy…in a wheelchair! Zeke had muscled the contraption past the screen door but was unable to get to the next knob, so he rammed it with the footrests of the chair, even as Patsy’s feet occupied them, and cursed it. “Damn this thing!”

Just DIY 41 Patsy grinned and waved to the shocked crowd. “And a Happy Thanksgiving to us all!” A beat, and then another rousing cheer came from the group. MaryAnne did not cheer. Instead, she stood motionless, her eyes filling with hot shock. Dottie gently squeezed her hands to get her to move. “She’s still your momma, honey. She’s had a rough time of it lately.” The girl blinked and tears were loosed down her cheeks. “It’s ok, MaryAnne. Go to her.” Dottie pushed her charge toward the gathering and MaryAnne wiped her face before she got through. Zeke saw her coming. “There she is! There’s our MaryAnne!” She stranded him with his arms outstretched behind her mother and dove into Patsy’s arms. Her coat was so loose it crowded her neck when her daughter embraced her. Patsy held on to her girl with everything she had. They both began a silent cry. A hush fell over the crowd and many of those assembled teared up or turned away. After a few awkward seconds, Zeke sensed they might need spurred to recover so, taking his Giants cap from his head and flapping it against his jeans, he began to lament.

Diana Johnson 42 “So nuthin’ for the old stepdad, huh?” He dropped his head. “I see how it is. I’m just chopped liver!” MaryAnne laughed out loud in her mother’s ear, raised up and leaned over to grab the strapping man. “You know I love liver!” And another hardy cheer rang out from the galley of The Grand. When the kitchen had been cleaned and closed and everyone retreated to their bungalows, MaryAnne trailed behind watching Zeke push her mother across the gravel to the few wooden steps leading to the porch of theirs. He locked the chair and bent to lift his wife from it. “Is that really necessary?” MaryAnne asked the question too quickly and with a judgement that surprised her. She felt embarrassed for her mom and wasn’t sure Zeke knew how it looked. “She’s lighter without the chair. Plus, these old steps can’t take the bangin’.” Patsy shot her a glance that the girl was not truly sure how to read. MaryAnne thought it was shame but couldn’t discern if she was ashamed of being carried or of her daughter for being uncomfortable about it. They both blushed in response, but Zeke carried on unaffected. He took her inside and placed her gently on the couch, helping her off with her coat and boots, and

Just DIY 43 settling her under a crocheted afghan. When her pillows had been adjusted perfectly, he held her face and kissed her lips tenderly. “I’m going outside for a smoke before I get the fire going, ok?” She smiled without parting her lips as if to keep hold of the kiss for longer. MaryAnne had shed her own coat and boots and stood self-consciously before her mother with her hands on her hips. “Well…he might have lit the fire first. It’s cold in here.” She didn’t know how to begin to talk to Patsy about her condition. She’d been walking on her own with only the occasional need for her cane in the summer and here it was just three months later, and she was in a wheelchair. She could feel her heart beating faster and she didn’t want to cry again, so she flew into action. “I’ll light the damn fire!” “MaryAnne, leave it. Zeke will be back in two minutes.” “Mother! In the next two minutes, this hearth will be ablaze! Just you wait.” “Angel-face leave it. Come sit with me. You know you don’t know the first thing about starting a fire.” MaryAnne abandoned her post at the fireplace and knelt in the space between the couch and the coffee table. “I know. I just wanted to do something for you.” “You’re here, that’s enough.”

Diana Johnson 44 Patsy twisted slightly at the trunk to raise her hand and comb her fingers through MaryAnne’s hair. She used to do this very thing when MaryAnne was a tot and woke in the night to a bad dream. She remembered how it soothed them both, but she wasn’t sure if she still had the touch with her weakening hands. She did…and MaryAnne felt a little less like crying already. “When did this happen, Mom? When did you get the chair?” “You make it sound like I’m on death row! It’s only been a few weeks, I guess.” “Why didn’t you call me or write about it?” “That would have been a great letter; Dear MaryAnne, I can’t trust my legs anymore so I’m going to live in a wheelchair now.” Patsy’s tone registered as mocking in MaryAnne’s ears and she erupted from the floor. “Jesus Mom! It’s not funny!” “MaryAnne I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make light. I’m sorry, come on and sit back down here.” The girl returned to her knees and held her mother’s hands. “It’s ok. I’m ok. This is just what happens. I had a good summer, hardly any progression at all. And then when it got colder, I just started slowing down.” “But you were in remission last year when it got cold. Remember we sledded on Butt-Breaker Hill.”

Just DIY 45 “Wow, was that only last year?” “Yes. That’s what I’m saying. This is happening so fast.” The teen was trying to disguise her panic as a right to know. She was feeling both, strongly. “It’s just because you’ve been away that it seems like it’s happened fast. It’s mostly been a steady, gradual thing. MaryAnne, you knew this was coming. You’ve known since the beginning. I’ve been honest with you since they diagnosed me.” “I guess it just looks totally different now.” Patsy’s brow furrowed incredulously. “Are you worried about how it looks?” “Not how it looks to other people, Mom. How it makes you feel like you look.” She wasn’t at all sure she phrased her thought the way she meant to. “Does that make sense?” Patsy’s voice began to harden. “I have accepted this, MaryAnne. This is my reality.” They heard the car door slam and Zeke folding and heaving the wheelchair and luggage onto the porch. Patsy retrieved her hands from her daughter’s grip and shot her a final look that closed the discussion. »«

Diana Johnson 46 The girls lapped up the attention their respective families lavished on them over the long weekend. They filled their homes with talk of their first semester away. Both made sure there was a full description of the campus, their private wing, and their newfound friends, Sarah, Morgan, and Kate. They afforded each subject its due according to importance. So, it made sense that neither could shut up about the other. Aggie kissed her mom goodnight the night after Thanksgiving and kept on at the arm of her dad’s recliner well past his yawns and flickering lids. She confessed that MaryAnne ‘cussed a little too much’, but she ‘loved the same music’, and ‘she grew up in a hotel!’. When she got around to reporting that they’d incurred the wrath of the founders’ heirs, she was honest about worrying just a little over what they were capable of. Hupp cautioned his daughter. “We gotta be fireproof, doll. Otherwise, we’ll be afraid of every damn fool who lights a match!” As always, her dad fortified her resolve with the truth of one sentence and she worried no more. MaryAnne wore Patsy out curled up on the opposite end of the couch by the fire for two straight nights recounting every detail of what she saw as Aggie’s unshakeable courage and crazy trade skills. Patsy hung on every word as she struggled to stay awake. “Plumbing, Mom! And electric, and she’s gorgeous! It’s like if Trooper John Thornton and Mary-Katherine Danaher had a baby. A beautiful redhead with Kelly green eyes but tough enough to fight and smart

Just DIY 47 enough to fix anything! Quiet Man II, the sequel…Quiet Woman!” On the last night, Zeke, who’d fallen asleep draped over the loveseat, roused to hear her still going on, checked his watch, and stretched. “Sounds like a great kid, MaryAnne. Maybe you could bring her to The Grand this summer for company.” He tossed the quilt from his middle and moved toward his wife. “You ‘bout ready, babe?” “You go on to bed, Mom.” “But I don’t want to miss a word, Angel-face.” “We’ll still have time for a little more tomorrow morning…although I can’t think of anything I have left to tell you. G’night.” She was sure Zeke knew best what her mother needed, and his efforts conveyed that he’d let them carry on long enough. She kissed them both and watched as he lifted her, afghan and all, to disappear behind the bedroom door. She started to retire to the room assigned to her in the bungalow but chose the comfort of the already warmed couch, close to the fire. She listened to the sounds of her mother being helped on and off the pot and Zeke getting her out of her clothes. There was muffled giggling and low, sweet talking. She wondered how they could do it, either of them. She had a lot to digest.

Diana Johnson 48 The clans were so enrapt in their daughters’ tales of one another that both extended invitations for the other girl to share in the next trip home. Calls were made and arrangements followed and, by the time Jack loaded Aggie and then MaryAnne back into the truck for the ride back to school, both the girls were already counting down to the next break. So, the branches of their family trees began to grow in reach for one another. Over the seasons to come, they would knit and knot in a way that seemed almost impossible to break.

49 The Suite It surprised Aggie how happy she was to be back at school. MaryAnne was both less surprised and happier. They caught one another up on family business and the anticipation mounted for them to visit each other’s people. But school life would have to be tolerated in the meantime, so they set about it, each growing closer to and more empowered by the other. Even though MaryAnne swore it wasn’t her, news of their clandestine apartment was leaked. It was only their three closest friends who knew, and they weren’t telling a soul. They were only permitted in the large shelf-lined chamber that the girls dubbed The Library. Neither Aggie nor MaryAnne wanted anyone in their private bath, and their dorm room, while bigger by half than those of the other girls, was no big deal. Sarah, Morgan, and Kate were stealth in their comings and goings since they’d been threatened within an inch of their lives if they got discovered. Aggie could be terrifying when she locked her teeth and pointed her finger in your face. MaryAnne loved to see her in action but never felt a smattering of fear for herself. She secretly wondered if Aggie had the stuff to back it up. Living with four brothers can make you appear tough, but she wasn’t at all sure when push came to shove if Aggie would push or shove to make good on her threats. Lucky enough, throughout the end of their first year and into the next at St. James, the challenge remained unproven. The quintet filled The Library with books, magazines, and posters, branding the sacred space. They

Diana Johnson 50 spent their downtime away from the other cliques and clubs playing cards, braiding hair, taking magazine quizzes, comparing crushes, and even studying upon occasion when the need pressed them. Aggie easily ranked the highest grade-point-average among the group and MaryAnne would have had the lowest if not for her partner in crime helping her at every turn. Aggie wrote her assignments, finished her projects, and warned her friend every time it would be the last time she’d help her. But MaryAnne always came up short and Aggie always scooped her up and saved her. MaryAnne did not lack the brainpower, but she was pitifully thin on motivation. Her spoiled childhood was starting to show its detriment and Aggie was chafed by it more and more each time. The couple was developing a co-dependence the likes of which neither girl was emotionally mature enough to name, and it was deepening, along with Aggie’s resentment. But in the moment, that too went unidentified. One night, exasperated with her roommate’s devil-may-care response to an upcoming exam for which they were preparing, Aggie confronted her. “Don’t you care at all about your grades, MaryAnne? I mean do you want to settle for just passing by the skin of your teeth every time?” “Aggie, I’m doing the best I can!” “I find that impossible to believe. You are brighter than this!” “Am I?” Aggie sat stunned at her friend’s response.

Just DIY 51 “Do you really think you aren’t smart? “I have no clue how smart I am, Aggie. I was never encouraged to find out. My whole life, people took for granted that I’d do okay because I was pretty, but no one ever really taught me anything. They’d say things like ‘you’ll get it’ and ‘it’ll come’ and I still don’t know what they were talking about!” “Wow. I had no idea.” “At the lake I only learned about The Grand Chancellor. And at school, there was always someone telling me how pretty I was, but never how smart. Do you think that’s why I’m so vain?” “A little vanity is good. It makes you get up and take a shower and brush your teeth every day. Look you’ve made it this far, MaryAnne; besides, you know you can’t get by on your looks forever, you are going to have to rely on your brains at some point in the game. You have to believe you are intelligent.” “I believe I am witty and clever.” “There! You see, you’re clever. That’s the way to think about it.” “Aggie, criminals are clever. That doesn’t help you pass tests, that makes it easy to cheat on them or to weasel out of taking them. Clever is not the same as smart.” Aggie wasn’t sure how to help her friend with this dilemma, but she knew they wouldn’t get anywhere parsing words. “You want me to shoot you straight?”

Diana Johnson 52 “Always.” “Clever is better than nothing. Clever means you can think on your feet, problem solve, and use what you got. So be clever about this classwork and find ways to agree with it so you can keep it in your mind with everything else you know to be true. Don’t look at it as new stuff you’ve never heard of; everything you’ve ever learned is like that at first. Imagine you just haven’t learned it yet.” Nodding, MaryAnne felt understood in a way that was totally new to her. She felt seen and grateful. She was beginning to love Aggie more like a sister every day. “Thanks, Ags.” Aggie realized that she’d let her friend share a painful truth about herself and feel better for it. In the seconds that followed MaryAnne’s heart-felt gratitude, Aggie wondered if she too could share her private pain and get some acceptance and relief as well. A moment more, and her courage was gone. Not now. Not yet. Their study sessions continued to devolve into talk about school itself as kids of that age are prone. No one was allowed to bring petty bickering into the suite though. You couldn’t gossip or judge anyone outside the group, except the Howerton’s; they were always fair game for criticism. With the end of the freshman year, their threat was lessened by half when Danielle graduated and left only Thomasina to devil them. She, it would turn out, seemed either less of a menace than her sister or without her sister. And although Aggie and MaryAnne never even entertained the thought of befriending her,

Just DIY 53 they didn’t spend their energy worrying over her like they had when Danielle was around. By the end of their sophomore year together, they were almost civil to her. That currency would open a portal to fine and dangerous things to come.

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