Patricia (8 page)

She reached a determined little hand toward her precious basket and there was a quick stillness in the group as they watched her, admiring her courage, for they all knew what Thorny was.

But Thorny quickly swung the basket around behind him and laughingly shook his head.

“Oh no!” he said. “You don't get this basket away from me! I know there are too many good things inside it for me ever to be willing to give it up. Sorry about your exclusiveness, but it can't be did this time. You'll have to take me along, because, my lady Pitty-Pat, I'm going anyway, and you'll find it a hard job to get rid of me, as the thistle said to the lady's dress! I'm quite sure there isn't a hick man present who would care to come to blows with me over it, is there?”

He looked around on the glowering youths, who stood fully able to handle him, and taunted them with his handsome grin.

One of the taller boys, a halfback from the football squad, spoke out, looking at Patricia.

“Do you want us to handle him for you, Pat?” There was menace in his tone, and his glance went quickly, significantly around the group of his fellows.

She gave the boy a quick rewarding smile.

“Thank you, Bert, but I don't think that'll be necessary. The boys of our school are too courteous to do anything like that, of course, and I'm quite sure Thorny will understand and not bother us.”

“Guess again, pretty-Pat!” sang out Thorny. “If you mean you think I'm going to give up and go home, you've got another guess coming. I'm sticking around.”

Patricia gave him a look which ought to have made him see that he would get nowhere with her that way. Then she lifted her firm little chin a bit haughtily, looking very much as she had looked that day on the hillside when she stood alone against Thorny's attack. Then she walked quickly on ahead with Charles and Helen Ayres, a brother and sister in her class who were rather shy and undemonstrative. And as she swept past Thorny, she said in a cool, clear voice that could be heard by the whole group, “Oh, all right. I can easily get along without that lunch basket, Thorny, if that's what you want.”

The rest of the group burst into rollicking appreciative laughter, but Patricia, with head held high, walked straight on.

Thorny, with a grin and a sneer, sauntered along beside Della Bright, a girl who seldom had any notice at all and who was tremendously flattered by Thorny's attention, even though she knew he was not popular among her classmates.

The little procession paused several blocks farther on to gather up a group who were waiting there for them, and then they went on for another group before they turned across the meadow path and down the hill toward the woods.

All this time Thorny walked placidly with Della Bright, ignoring Patricia, laughing and talking as if he had always been a part of the group, telling stories of his feats in school athletics and studies, talking so loud that those ahead could not miss it if they tried. Now and then he would ostentatiously open the clasp of the pretty basket he carried and poke an investigating finger inside, coming forth with a sandwich or a piece of chicken or a carefully wrapped bit of cake, which he generously divided with the half-frightened but giggling Della.

Patricia, on ahead, ignored him utterly. If Thorny was determined to try and annoy her, she would not let him spoil her day. Let him have the lovely lunch. Everybody would understand and someone would share with her, she was sure. Or she could go without. She didn't feel as if she would ever want any food anyway, she was so annoyed and angry that Thorny had crashed in and spoiled her perfect day. Would it always be so? Would every promise of a perfect day be spoiled by someone?

And had her mother known that Thorny was coming? She put that thought resolutely from her. She could not bear to think that her mother had deliberately planned to do that. Yet her mother was very determined to have her connected with Thorny. Why?

Something cool and lovely met them as they entered the woods. It had always seemed to Patricia, when she thought about heaven, that there surely must be a wood there, because here it was so quiet and sweet and peaceful, like the entrance to great delight. It was only a childish fancy, she supposed, and she had never told anybody about it. Her mother would never have understood. Her mother was practical and liked fancy artificial places better. She had never approved of the woods for her child, there seemed too many dangers lurking there. It made Mrs. Prentiss shudder to think of worms and snakes and creeping things. It was too dark and cool for her taste, too. She felt it must be unhealthy. But her child loved it. Yet she had never had much of it. Her mother had generally managed to substitute a trip to the movies or a picture gallery or a store for any trip she tried herself to plan. So she could count only a very few times she had experienced that thrill of entering the cool, quiet depths, of seeing a quick twirl of a stealthy squirrel darting to a higher branch and looking down with questioning beadlike eyes, of hearing the high far note of a wood robin, of discovering hepaticas and wood anemones and jack-in-the-pulpits lurking under tall ferns with a drift of maidenhair fern not far away. It was to Patricia the most wonderful place in the world, and now as she entered the green shadows, trod on the velvet moss, and penetrated farther to a floor of pine needles, she forgot about Thorny. Even Thorny couldn't spoil the long-anticipated day for her. There had always been a Thorny or his like in her life to spoil every lovely experience. She reflected that probably it was so with everyone's nice times.

So, basketless but happy, she entered her Eden and walked as if under an enchantment. And Thorny might rush ahead and pose as carrying on a flirtation with any of the other girls he chose, or shout out curses upon all woods in general and this one in particular when he happened to step into a hole and turn his ankle slightly, or he might take the center of the stage in the immediate foreground and tell in blatant boasting of his achievements at school. It could not dispel the beauty all around her, nor spoil Patricia's joy in the day. It wasn't pleasant, of course, to think that the rest of the class might be offended at her for bringing such an alien element into their festive day, but by this time most of them understood that it had been none of Patricia's planning. They laid it all at her mother's door. But neither did the girl enjoy that thought. She didn't like to have her mother despised by her friends. She wished her mother wouldn't do silly things and bring wrong elements together and misjudge nice, pleasant plain people, but she didn't want others to blame her. She felt in her heart that if her mother had only had the privilege of attending a public school, all these discrepancies in her character might have been rectified. It was her mother's misfortunate that she had not had the privilege of such a school in her childhood.

So, offsetting the disadvantages of the day, Patricia felt that she had the full sympathy of her class. They liked her and admired her and were taking her into their heart of hearts today as they had never quite done before. She felt their new loyalty around her like a pleasant garment, and it filled her with a sweet elation she had never known. There had always been that little element of doubt in her mind before. But today the fact that she had deliberately left the pampered “prep school kid” and walked off with the stupidest and most unattractive brother and sister in their whole class had done a great deal to convince them that she was one of themselves. She knew now that they were her friends, and she was greatly glad over it. So in the light of that knowledge she trod the sacred precincts of the wooded aisles and was glad.

Thorny was ahead there nibbling into that wonderful basket, discovering the choice tidbits that her mother had evidently put in for her to feed to Thorny, gobbling down a whole fruit cup that he had rooted out of a corner and smacking his lips over it. But what did she care? She had for the first time since she entered high school a sense that her class and she were one, and nothing else mattered.

A committee of their class had selected the lace for them to gather for their games and for eating their lunch, and arriving there they surveyed the vaulted arches of towering forest trees above them with satisfaction, then stacked their baskets and coats under a convenient tree and drifted away in groups. Some of the boys went to gather wood for a fire on which coffee was to be brewed and marshmallows toasted, others to make arrangements for games that were to be a part of the program later in the day, some to set up the target for archery and to prepare a spot for quoits and other games. Everybody was on some committee. Patricia headed a small group to gather wild flowers and arrange them on the table, which another committee was to spread and set for lunch.

“I shall have nothing but a bag of oranges and a box of candy to contribute to the lunch table,” said Patricia to her associates, with a bitter glance at the handsome Thorny grubbing in her basket.

“Why don't you let the other fellows go after him and get it away?” suggested Helen Ayres excitedly. “They could, easily. He's eating it all up from you, Pat. I just saw him take out a whole handful of chicken salad. There won't be anything left fit to eat. Charles could go and tell the boys to organize and get him before he knew it. They could easily get it away.”

“No!” said Patricia. “I wouldn't want it after he's mauled it all over. Let him have it. There'll be enough for everybody. I'm not very hungry myself, anyway. Let him have it. Let's forget it. What are those blue flowers over there? Aren't they hepaticas? And oh, see the spring beauties!”

“I know where there is some birch bark,” contributed the somewhat diffident Charles. “I've got my knife. I could make a birch bark box and you girls could fill it with the flowers.”

“Say, that would be great!” said Patricia, with sparkling eyes. “And we'll lay some of those small lacy ferns around the bottom to look like green doilies. Come on, Helen. We'll have to work fast, for they'll begin to get hungry before twelve o'clock, I'm sure, and I want it to be the prettiest table ever!” cried Patricia, leading the way to the banks of flowers. Soon they were hard at work.

But Thorny, and the basket, and Della Bright had drifted away to the top of the hill, and Patricia was glad for now she could more easily forget them.

The tablecloth was charmingly decorated with a lovely mass of wild flowers in a birch bark container in the center, all wreathed about with a beautiful pattern of small ferns. In between there were substantial piles of sandwiches of all kinds and sizes—chicken, lamb, ham, corned beef, cheese, lettuce, watercress. It seemed as if there was no end to the different kinds of sandwiches that had been provided. Patricia, looking them over, rejoiced that her elaborate basket would not be missed, even if Thorny ate it all up.

The three decorators surveyed their handiwork with satisfaction and then decided that it would be nice to have the dish of olives surrounded by a wreath of violets. So they hurried off to the place where they knew they were plentiful and began to pick, handling the lovely blossoms delicately with pleasure in their luscious growth.

Suddenly, just behind them as they stopped was Thorny's voice.

“Hey, you two, Chick and Helen, aren't those your names? They want you back there! Something about the arrangements. Quick! They're in a hurry!”

Charles straightened up with a troubled look toward Patricia, his mild, homely, pleasant face full of worry. And Helen gave him a look of hesitation. Then suddenly Thorny, scowling ominously at the two, stamped his foot and waved his arms at them.

“Scram!” he said “I want to talk to Pat.” And they gave him a frightened look and scrammed.

As they hurried away, Patricia suddenly sprang to her feet and took in the situation, then lifted her chin and looked haughtily at Thorny.

“What's the idea?” she said coldly.

“The idea is that I'm about fed up being treated like the dirt under your feet, Pat,” said Thorny indignantly. “I'd have you to understand that I came to this old picnic to take care of you, and I think it's about time I had a little of your company. Come on over to that tree with the moss on it and let's sit down and catch up on our acquaintance. You certainly don't think I enjoy the company of the rest of this hick crowd, do you? Come on; let's eat our lunch now!”

“Oh,” said Patricia in a cool little voice, “haven't you eaten it all up yet? Don't let me hinder you. Just go over to the tree by yourself and eat it all. I assure you I don't want any of it. I'm going to eat with the class!” And she made as if to pass him and walk high-headed back to the lunching place. But Thorny put out a hard young hand and caught her.

“Not on your life you don't get away!” he said fiercely. “Pat, you're mine, and you might as well give up at once and acknowledge it. We've been pals ever since we were little kids, of course, but I'll say you've even improved. I haven't seen a girl since I've been away that can come up to you in looks, and that's a fact. There! Will that please you? Say, those eyes are hot shot! And I'm aiming to take those lips and make them mine. Watch me!” And suddenly Thorny flung his arms around her unsuspecting young body and drew her close to him in a fierce bearlike embrace that nearly took her breath away. And then his hot lips found hers and poured passionate kisses upon them until she was almost strangled.

Bewildered and frightened beyond anything she had ever felt in her life, taken off her guard and limp with horror, she could do nothing at the first instant. Blindly she struggled, gasping, trying to scream but unable to get a sound across because he held her face so close to his and kissed her so fiercely that her breath came only in jerks.

He had her in such an embrace that her arms were pinioned to her sides.

“Stop! Stop!” she gasped. “We're—only kids! And—I
hate
—you!”

But now her strength and sense were coming back to her. She began to kick his ankles and shins.

“You little handsome devil!” said Thorny between his kisses, returning her kicks with a lashing out of one of his own heavily shod feet. “I'll teach you to fight me! I will! You're
mine
, now, and I'll make you know it and own it—yes, and
like
it before we're done. Do you know that?” And then his face came down and smothered her again with his tempestuous fondling.

Struggling, turning, gasping, Patricia at last got one hand free and let it fly at Thorny's face in a blinding blow, scratching his cheeks and eyes. Freeing her own face at last, she let out a terrific scream. True, it was stifled and cut in two at once by Thorny's hard hand clapped over her mouth, but she had got one finger in his eyes and he was blinded himself.

She was like a young fury now, getting her other arm free, beating him around the face, and giving him all he could take, especially directing her blows at his eyes, until suddenly with a howl of pain he put one hand up to guard his eyes and she struggled free. Turning, she fled with all her might away from him, not pausing to see in which direction she was going, not looking back to see if he were following. She dashed across the mossy ground, screaming as she went.

But it happened that she was going in the opposite direction from all her comrades, who were at that moment engaged in a rollicking game in which they were all shouting and laughing and screaming at the top of their lungs, so they did not hear her. But she went on and on, climbing up a hill, stumbling over roots of trees and logs, once caught in the branches of a low-hanging tree, but struggling on.

She had stopped screaming now, but the tears were raining down her face, and she was crying softly, sometimes groaning as she stumbled against a log or a tree trunk.

Then it occurred to her that Thorny might be following. Yet she dared not look behind her. She must get out of the woods, into the open, into the road somewhere if possible, where she could call for help if he came.

Then suddenly she fell prostrate across a big root of a tree, and her whole being was shaken with the shock of the fall. Now if he came, she could not hope to get away. Her strength was utterly gone. She was trembling in every nerve. She was frightened beyond anything she had ever experienced. For a moment or two she dared not try to look around. He might even be just upon her. It would be like him to creep up and take her unaware. He had always been that way, selfish and ready to take anyone at a disadvantage. A memory of the way he had held her in that close horrid embrace, the feel of his hot wet lips against hers, his quick excited breath upon her face made her shudder. Oh, she would die if he ever caught her and did that again.

She was not a girl who had been used to kissing. She was only filled with inexpressible horror at the awful contact she had had. Why did people want to kiss unless they loved one another? How could they bear to go around caressing one another? She shuddered again, and then that horror lest he was stealing up to her quietly grew so strong that she had to look around. Slowly, very quietly, she looked back to see if he was coming.

No, he was not in sight. And the way was fairly open. There did not seem to be any place where he could be hiding.

With stealth she drew herself up from the ground and looked around her and then up. She seemed to be about ten feet below the top of the hill, and there were wide open spaces up there, a field perhaps, a meadow. If she could only gain that, get out into the wideness where there were no obstructions to fall over, no roots to hinder, no bushes to hide, perhaps she might get away home. She felt as if she would never go out again if she once gained that stronghold. And oh, what would her mother say now? Surely she would see how mistaken she was about Thorny! At least her father would see, and he would do something definite about it to protect her. Surely her mother would never think it was right for a boy as big as Thorny to kiss a girl that way, as mature as she was, and do it against her will, again and again. Oh!

Shudder after shudder went over her as she slowly tried to rise and creep out of the place where she had fallen.

Blinded by her tears, she stood up and slowly gained the top of the hill, reaching at last the shelter of a large tree where she could lean against the trunk and peek out to make sure Thorny was not anywhere around. If she could only have known that Thorny was still seated on a log trying to get the dirt out of his eyes that had been rubbed in along with the violet stems and anemones when Patricia turned upon him, what a comfort it would have been to her just then.

When she turned to look around her at the top of the hill, she was not just sure where she was. In a general way she knew that the village where home was should be behind her, beyond the woods from which she was emerging, but she did not want to return that way. She was utterly humiliated and filled with shame over what had happened. She did not want to meet Thorny again—
ever
! And she dared not go back through the woods lest he would be there and insist on taking her off again. There was no telling what kind of explanation he would give if she went back. She trembled at the thought. So there was no more picnic for her that day. Thorny had managed to spoil it forever, even the memory of it.

They would get along without her. Nobody would likely miss her very much. Or if they did, they would think she had gone off with Thorny. In fact, that was the worst thing they could think, but perhaps she could explain to them sometime that it had been because she wanted to get away from Thorny that she ran home. Anyway, that wasn't something to settle now. She had to get away from here right away, because there was no telling how soon Thorny would come plunging up that hill after her and she felt that that would be the end of her forever. With another swift glance down the hill and a quick scanning of the meadows, she turned toward the left and hurried along the edge of the woods. Somewhere ahead ought to be the road, and if followed, eventually it ought to lead to home. And if it should be that Thorny had figured out already that she would take the road and go toward home, at least there might be people passing in cars to whom she could cry out for help.

So, breathless and trembling, she hurried along, stumbling over uneven places in the way and once actually falling down again. She was so tired and so sorrowful that now she did not try to rise, but just lay huddled there in a discouraged little heap and began to cry. Long shuddery sobs that shook her whole young body, tears that flooded her face and hung jeweled drops on her long eyelashes and rained down her pink cheeks with a healing tide. She must get these awful shudders and tears out of her system before she attempted to go home.

And what was she going to say when she got there? What would her mother think? Oh, if only Mother would stay late at her all-day club meeting, then she could have the day to herself to rest and think up an explanation; perhaps she would never even have to explain. When she tried to think of words to make it all plain, she couldn't find the right ones, not words that she dared utter to her mother. Not words that would explain how she felt about the way Thorny had treated her. Her mother would think she was something vile and awful to have such thoughts, if she tried to tell her how terrible Thorny had been. Her mother would say that if she hadn't been to that lowdown school, she would never have put such an interpretation on Thorny's actions, that of course Thorny was a nice decent boy and wouldn't have any idea of doing anything wrong. That all boys of that age liked to kiss nice, well-behaved, pretty girls, and that Patricia was acting childish to think that there was anything so very terrible about being kissed. That all pretty girls expected to be kissed and were proud of it. They felt that it only showed that they were growing up and getting more attractive, and that Patricia was a silly little goose to get all excited because that delightful boy Thorny had chosen to kiss her. If she had only been trained in a nice private school like Gloria Van Emmons, she would have understood and known how to accept a little attention now and then. Why, Patricia could fairly hear her mother's voice saying these things, and suddenly it seemed to her more than she could bear, to have her mother like that, not understanding. How could her mother be so blind as not to know what Thorny had become? Oh, perhaps her mother thought that was all right. Perhaps she thought that all boys and men were like that. If that was true, Patricia felt she never wanted to have anything to do with boys again. But she knew it wasn't true. She knew that the boys in her school wouldn't have dared crush her in their arms that way. They always treated her with respect.