In Every Heartbeat - By Kim Vogel Sawyer Page 0,11
chin, flattening the abundance of ruffles on her nightgown’s neckline. “Elisabet, you simply must pledge a sorority. Pledge to Kappa Kappa Gamma with me, please? You’ll be completely friendless if you don’t pledge!”
Swishing her palms together, Libby gave Alice-Marie a grim look. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to be friendless.”
Alice-Marie’s mouth fell open in a perfect O. She stared at Libby as if she’d seen an apparition.
Libby flounced past her roommate to the wardrobe and tugged her simple white cotton gown over her head. “Alice-Marie, please don’t think me unsociable, but I’m not here to join clubs and make friends. I came to learn journalism. I intend to find a job in town, which will probably take up a great deal of my time. Between a job and studying, I don’t see how I’ll have time to spare for clubs and such.”
Alice-Marie crawled into her bed and nestled against the pillows. She puckered her lips into a pout. “Oh . . . poor dear. You have to work to pay for your own schooling? Won’t your father pay the bill?”
Libby couldn’t decide if Alice-Marie was sympathetic or appalled. But she answered honestly. “I’m here on scholarship. My schooling is paid for by a benefactor to the orphans’ school where I’ve lived since I was a little girl. I do need to earn spending money, but I want a job not so much for the money as the experience.”
“Ooooooh!” The single word ran up the scale and down. Alice-Marie fussed with her blankets, her eyes zinging everywhere around the room except directly at Libby. “You—you’re an orphan?”
Libby’d heard that tone before, and she’d never liked it. Why did people react so negatively when they discovered her parentless state? She’d done nothing to create it, so why should people act as though it meant there was something wrong with her? But then again, maybe there was something wrong with her. No one had seemed to want her after her parents died. “Yes. I am.”
“I see.” Alice-Marie pulled the covers to her chin and wriggled lower on the mattress. “Well, that’s sad. Hmm. Well, as I said, I plan to pledge Kappa Kappa Gamma, and I’d like to run for a position on the Women’s Council. I also hope to be accepted to the Women’s Pan Hellenic Council. As long as it doesn’t interfere with playing tennis. I’m so glad they have a court right here on campus. I adore a good game of tennis.”
Libby imagined Alice-Marie playing with a racquet in one hand and a parasol in the other. She released a little snort. “Are you here for entertainment or education?”
Alice-Marie lifted her head. “What did you say?”
“Nothing. Just that I hope you enjoy all the . . . activities.”
“Oh, I intend to. Mother says the most interesting women are those who are well-rounded, so I need lots of experiences to . . . well . . . round me out!”
A high-pitched giggle carried across the room and pierced Libby’s ears. She pulled the covers over her head. “Good night, Alice-Marie.”
“Oh? Are you ready to sleep?” She sounded more puzzled than miffed. “All right, then. Do you want me to turn out the light?”
“Unless you plan to sleep with it on.”
The covers must have muffled her sarcastic words because Alice-Marie said, “What was that?”
Libby flapped the covers down and spoke loudly. “Yes, please turn it off.”
“Very well. Good night, Elisabet. Sleep well. Mother says a proper night’s sleep is very important.”
Libby buried her face once more. Mother says . . . Envy nearly turned Libby’s chest inside out. How she wished she could tell someone, “Mother says . . .” But she didn’t have a mother. Not even an adopted mother. She could say, “Mrs. Rowley says . . .” or “Maelle says . . .” But then people would ask, “Who’s Mrs. Rowley? Who’s Maelle?” No one ever had to ask, “Who’s Mother?”
Libby rolled to her side and squeezed her eyes tight. She was eighteen already—a woman herself. And she was going to be a well-known journalist. Someday, people on the street would say to one another, “Did you read today’s Gazette? Elisabet Conley says . . .” Then they’d quote directly from her articles. Alice-Marie’s mother was only known to Alice-Marie; Libby would be known to thousands. And when that day came, it wouldn’t matter one bit that she was an orphan.
When Libby awakened the next morning, she discovered Alice-Marie had already dressed and gone. She squinted at the