![]() Raymie knew the girl’s name and what her father did because Beverly had made an announcement at the beginning of the lesson. “She fainted,” said the other baton-twirling student, a girl named Beverly Tapinski, whose father was a cop. “Get up,” said Ida Nee to the girl in the pink dress. ![]() Sometimes it made her want to drop to her knees.īut then she would remember that she had a plan. Sometimes the pain in her heart made her feel too terrified to go on. The thought of that - the fact of it - that she, Raymie Clarke, was without a father, made a small, sharp pain shoot through Raymie’s heart every time she considered it. It was also a great tragedy because Raymie was now fatherless. It was a great tragedy because Raymie’s father had disgraced himself. “This is a great tragedy,” said Raymie’s mother. It was actually a great tragedy, what had happened. Those were the words that went through Raymie’s head every time she thought about her father and the dental hygienist.īut she did not say the words out loud anymore because Raymie’s mother was very upset, and talking about dishes and spoons running away together was not appropriate. Hey, diddle, diddle, the dish ran away with the spoon. But it was not a Western it was baton-twirling lessons at Ida Nee’s house in Ida Nee’s backyard.Īnd two days before, on the third day of June, Raymie Clarke’s father had run away from home with a woman who was a dental hygienist. The sun was way, way up in the sky, and the whole thing was like high noon in a Western. Ida Nee didn’t seem like much of a kidder. She wore white boots that came all the way up to her knees. Even though she was old - over fifty at least - her hair was an extremely bright yellow. Ida Nee was the baton-twirling instructor. “Stop this nonsense immediately,” said Ida Nee. “I betrayed you.”įor some reason, the words seemed worth repeating. ![]() Raymie had never seen or heard anything like it. And then she opened her eyes very wide and shouted, “Archie, I’m sorry! I’m sorry I betrayed you!” The girl in the pink dress moaned and toppled over sideways. She herself often felt too terrified to go on, but she had never admitted it out loud. Raymie stared at her in wonder and admiration. The girl clutched her baton to her chest and dropped to her knees. And then the girl in the pink dress, the one who was standing right next to Raymie, let out a sob and said, “The more I think about it, the more terrified I am.
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