Little Women and Me - By Lauren Baratz-Logsted Page 0,13
all the while imagining the fun they are having. And then, finally, they will come home and tell us all about it!”
Beth was so good, it was hard to be grumpy around her. Still, Meg and even Jo were going to a dance while I had to stay at home, sewing and singing? I wanted to get out of the house for a change! I wanted to go to a dance! I was sure there would be boys there!
I couldn’t completely prevent the sourness as I forced myself to smile at Beth and respond, “Sounds great.”
Actually, it turned out it was fun helping someone else get ready for a party you weren’t invited to.
It was fun when Jo accidentally burned Meg’s hair when she tried to curl it with a pair of hot tongs.
And it was fun watching Jo try not to itch her head after Meg put nineteen pins in her hair.
And it was really fun hearing someone other than me get “admonished” for a change as Meg gave Jo a lengthy list of don’ts, which included:
Don’t say “Christopher Columbus” or wink.
Don’t dawdle when Hannah comes to collect us at eleven.
Don’t eat much supper.
Don’t shake hands.
Apparently, in the 1860s, girls weren’t supposed to have any fun, punctuality counted, they were laying the groundwork for female eating disorders, and they were scared to touch other people.
“Now remember, when we get to the party,” Meg gave Jo one last warning, “if I lift my eyebrows at you, it means you are doing something wrong and you must stop it at once, while if I nod my head it means you are behaving correctly, at least at that moment. Have you got all that?”
“Yes,” Jo said with a sigh that made it clear she was no longer excited about the party.
It was very satisfying, seeing Jo looking less alpha girl for once. Nearly on the verge of laughing out loud at the situation, I caught myself. What exactly was my problem with Jo? Well, outside of the fact that she was completely full of herself. But really, what was my problem? I shook the feeling away, promising myself I’d get back to it. Right now I was too busy helping Beth and Amy wave Meg and Jo off.
There stood Meg, wearing a silvery poplin gown, her singed hair carefully camouflaged by some thingy that reminded me of the hairnets the kitchen workers wore at school, only nicer because it was blue velvet. There were lace frills here and there, a white chrysanthemum attached to her shoulder, and she tottered back and forth in heels she obviously wasn’t used to wearing.
And there stood Jo, with her nineteen pins in her hair.
“Good-bye!” “Good-bye!” they shouted back at us as they bobbed their way out the door and into the night. The way they bobbed—they kind of reminded me of bobbleheads.
“So what shall we do first?” Beth asked with timid eagerness as soon as the door had shut on the others. “Shall we sing first? Or sew maybe?”
“I have a headache,” I said, feeling the sudden need to be alone. “I think I’ll just lie down for a few minutes.”
“Oh, not a headache!” Beth said.
“I hope you don’t die from it,” Amy added.
“Of course I won’t—” I started to say; then, “What?”
“I’m sure Amy didn’t mean to upset you.” Beth blushed. “But you do know, when people get headaches, sometimes it does lead to … other things.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said impatiently.
Honestly, no matter how often Jo reminded me that I was fourteen, I couldn’t help but feel like I was surrounded by a group of people much younger than me, less sophisticated. Well, maybe because I was. If only these people could see YouTube, they’d probably have heart attacks.
“I just need a few minutes of peace and quiet,” I added, “but I promise you, I’m not going to die from it.”
And that really was all it was, I thought as I entered the bedroom I shared with Meg and Jo, for once having the whole room to myself: I just needed a few moments alone.
You’d assume that without the endless noise of the life I was used to—there were no TVs or computers or iPods here or cell phones ringing with Justin Bieber, barf—it would be quieter. The kind of place that would offer a girl opportunities for silent thought. And maybe there were, in other parts of this Brave New World. But here? I could barely hear myself think.