The Slipper (6 page)

“It's
him
!” she whispered excitedly.

“Who?”

“The track star, the boy I saw that first day jogging in those cute little blue sateen shorts. I told you about him.”

“Oh. Which one is he?”

“The gorgeous one,” Nora said under her breath.

It was him, all right. Tall and lean and mean. Muscular, but not too much so, not like one of those drippy weight lifters. He was wearing scuffed brown loafers and snug tan slacks and a soft pale lime-green V-necked sweater with white shirt beneath. His golden-brown crew cut was short and neat, accentuating the shape of his head, and his eyes were a mossy green, flecked with brown, witty eyes, wicked eyes. His features were rather foxlike, the cheekbones sharp, the nose long, the lips wide and thin, curling slightly at one corner. Not really handsome in a conventional sense, but talk about animal magnetism! The other boys were okay, too, obviously jocks like him, but they faded to invisibility with him around.

“Have you ever
seen
anything so delectable?” she whispered.

Carol glanced at him, unimpressed. “He's not my type,” she said.

“Thank God for
that
!”

The boys took a table near the front window. Julie went over to take their orders, chatted briefly with the track star and then came back to ask if Carol and Nora wanted dessert.

“Cake?” Carol inquired.

Nora shook her head, trying not to stare.

“Ice cream?”

“I couldn't eat another bite. Who
is
he, Julie?”

Julie followed the direction of Nora's gaze. “Which one?” she asked.

“The sexy one. The one in the lime-green sweater.”

“Oh, you mean Dick. Dick Sanders. He's a junior, twenty years old. He plays basketball and is on the track team, throws the discus, too, I believe. My husband gave him some private tutoring in geometry last year when Dick fell behind.”

“Dick,” Nora said. “What an auspicious name.”

“Would you like me to introduce you to him?”

“Introduce me to him? Of course not! He'd think I was an idiot. He'd think I wanted to
meet
him!”

“We'll just have our check, please, Julie,” Carol said. “I sure hope I see you in class Monday afternoon.”

Julie smiled her shy smile, handed Carol the check and told Nora she had enjoyed meeting her. Nora said she hoped they'd meet again soon and, when Julie left, took a five-dollar bill out of her purse and slipped it under the edge of her bread plate. It was an outrageously big tip, sure, but the girl was enchanting and could probably use it. Her legs felt a little trembly as she and Carol started toward the cashier's stand. They were going to have to go right by Dick Sanders's table. Nora pretended an indifference she was far from feeling. As they passed the table Sanders looked up. He grinned.

“Hi,” he said.

He was speaking to her. Nora was dumbfounded.

“Hi,” she said, never at a loss for words.

“I'm Dick Sanders. I've seen you around campus.”

If she couldn't win him with her fatal beauty, she'd hook him with her witty repartee. “You have?” she said.

“Couldn't miss a cute trick like you,” he told her.

Nora smiled at him and they moved on and Carol paid the bill. Once outside she grabbed Carol's arm again and stumbled, feigning buckled knees. Her heart was actually palpitating. She'd never felt anything like this before. He had spoken to her! He thought she was a cute trick! Nora felt she might just die right here on the sidewalk.

“I can't believe it!” she exclaimed.

“I don't know what you're so excited about, Nora. He really wasn't all that impressive.”

“So you have no taste, that's your problem. He's a dream, Carol. He's the sexiest thing I've ever seen. He thinks I'm a cute trick! Dick Sanders doesn't know it, sweetie, but from this day forward he's a marked man!”

3

Julian Compton stood on the small stage with the dusty gold-brown curtains and patiently explained to the three students with him that this was improvisation and you had to think, you had to feel, you had to react. The situation he had given them was simple enough: A boy and a girl are talking in the park and another boy comes up and asks for a dollar, which they refuse to give him. The second boy had to leave the stage with the dollar in his pocket. The students had gone through it three times already with unsatisfactory results. The girl, Carol Martin, had done well enough, looking surprised when the second boy came up to them, then worried, then frightened when the boys started arguing. Perhaps she reacted just a bit
too
much, Julie thought, watching from the back of the classroom. Carol was a lovely girl, warm and friendly, and Julie liked her a great deal, thought her very talented, but—well, if Julie were up there she wouldn't use quite so many gestures. She wouldn't define her feelings quite so broadly. Julie wouldn't dream of criticizing her friend—Carol was good, Julie knew she'd never have half her talent—but she couldn't help thinking how she would play the scene. If you were acting, people shouldn't
see
you acting. Not that I know anything about it, Julie reminded herself. I'm just here on a pass. I have no business being here at all.

The boys were bad. Bud Holdredge was a clean-cut blond youth with a pronounced Bostonian accent, very Ivy League in neat slacks and cardigan sweater and shirt with buttoned-down collar. Jim Burke was a handsome, sturdily built boy with coal-black hair and intense brown eyes. He wore sneakers, faded blue jeans, an old T-shirt and a battered brown leather jacket, fancied himself the Brando type. They were two of Compton's best students, but he wasn't getting anything from them today. Bud was stiff and awkward, prissily refusing to hand over the dollar, and Jim slouched and mumbled and came up with lines like “Hey, man, I really need the bread.” The rest of the class was visibly impressed by his antics—Jim was a favorite—but Julie could see that Compton was nearing the end of his patience.

Compton ran his fingers through his luxuriant silver-gray hair. With his craggy, battered features and moody blue eyes, he was an extremely attractive man, and most of the girls had crushes on him. Julie found him rather fatherly, sometimes stern, sometimes warm and teasing, almost always harried, exuding strong authority no matter what his mood. He was a wonderful man, and she still found it hard to believe he had taken such an interest in her. It didn't seem possible he could think she had a natural talent for acting. Maybe Doug was right. Maybe Compton just felt sorry for her.

“All right,” he said wearily, “we'll try it one more time. I want you to
get
that dollar, Jim. Understand?”

“I've been tryin', man.”

“You don't want to give it to him, Bud. You're not
going
to give it to him.”

“But I'm gonna get it, right?” Jim mumbled.

Compton ignored him. He glanced at Carol and started to say something, then changed his mind. Carol looked disappointed, and Julie could see that she longed to question him. Compton rarely worked as hard with Carol as he did with the other students, rarely criticized her and almost never gave her directions. Perhaps it was because she didn't need them. Carol had remarkable stage presence, even if … even if she wasn't always totally convincing when she did a part.

“Let's go,” Compton said. “Let's do it right this time.”

“Why is it so important I get this dollar?” Jim asked. “I mean, am I hungry? Do I need to buy food? Am I a broken-down panhandler, begging for bread? Am I a hood, intimidating an uptight, middle-class couple? It would help a lot, man, if I knew what my motivations were.”

“I don't
care
what your motivations are. Just get that goddamn dollar and get off the stage!”

Compton moved back, patience clearly wearing thin. Carol and Bud took their positions and began to talk. Bud asked her if she would like to go to the country club dance. Carol hesitated and looked pleased and then looked apprehensive and said she wasn't sure his parents would approve, she didn't belong to their set. Bud said that didn't matter at all. Neither of them noticed Jim approach. He crept nearer, looked all around and then grinned a sinister grin. He lunged forward and slung an arm around Bud's throat, rearing back, strangling him. Carol screamed and slammed a hand over her heart. Bud began to gurgle, his face turning bright pink. “Gimme your wallet!” Jim growled. Bud gurgled and hastily reached into his back pocket and pulled out his billfold. Jim took it and shoved Bud roughly aside. He peeled a dollar out of the billfold, thrust it into his pocket, threw the billfold down and sauntered away. Bud coughed and made croaking noises, his face still pink. Carol wrung her hands. The class applauded wildly.

“How was that, man?” Jim inquired. “Got the dollar, didn't I?”

“You got it, Jim,” Compton said, shaking his head.

He glanced at the large clock hanging over the classroom door and, looking relieved, dismissed the class. Students got up from their seats and began to slip on coats and sweaters, ardently discussing the scene. Jim Burke swaggered, pleased with himself. He patted Bud on the shoulder and returned his dollar. Julie stood up and put on her old brown cloth coat. She was tying a brown-and-blue scarf over her head when Carol joined her. They always sat together in the back of the room. Julie smiled at her and told her she'd been very good. Carol smiled, too, but it was a hollow smile. Julie could tell she was still disappointed that Compton hadn't commented on her performance.

“Hey, you were somethin' else,” Jim Burke said, joining them.

“Thank you,” Carol replied.

Jim turned to Julie then and gave her a lovely smile. He really was a handsome boy, Julie thought, and she knew that beneath all that phony swagger he was a very nice boy as well.

“When am I goin' to do a scene with you, Julie?” he inquired.

“I—I'm just observing,” she said shyly.

Jim gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. “I've got a feelin' you'd be terrific to work with.”

“You were very good today,” Julie told him. “So much intensity. I was actually frightened.”

“Yeah, I really got into it there for a minute. You ever decide to get up there and show your stuff, you can count on me to help. I'd be glad to rehearse with you beforehand.”

Julie gave him a shy smile. Jim patted her shoulder again and swaggered away.

“You know him?” Carol asked.

“Not—not really. I was coming out of the library one evening last week with an armload of books Doug needed and I—I tripped on the steps and fell. I sprained my wrist. Jim happened to be walking by and he helped me to my feet and gathered up the books for me and insisted I let him take me to the infirmary to see about my wrist. I—I assured him it was only a light sprain. Jim said I was in no condition to carry all those heavy books, and he walked me back to the apartment, carrying them for me.”

“That was very thoughtful of him,” Carol said.

“He—he really is a very nice boy. He was warm and friendly and witty, not at all like he is in class. He didn't mumble, didn't swagger—he wasn't even wearing his leather jacket. He's actually quite sensitive and—extremely talented.”

“He's a very good actor,” Carol agreed. “If he'd stop trying to copy Marlon Brando and develop his own technique he'd be wonderful.”

Carol put on her coat. It was a soft blue wool with belted waist and a full gray fur collar. Carol always dressed so beautifully. Most of the girls in drama class affected black leotards and wraparound plaid skirts and black turtleneck sweaters, very hip, very bohemian, their hair pulled back in pony tails tied with colored scarves. Not Carol. She had her own individual style. Julie always felt dowdy beside her, but there wasn't any money to spend on clothes. Even if there had been, she'd never have Carol's flair.

“You were excellent today, too,” Julie said quietly. “That part about not being sure his parents would approve—it was inspired. It gave the girl definition.”

Carol tied a blue silk scarf over her head. “Nora and I are planning to meet at the SUB for coffee and sandwiches,” she said. “I wish you'd join us, Julie.”

Julie shook her head as the other students noisily made their way out of the classroom. “I'd love to, Carol, but—I'd better get home to Doug. He's studying for an exam today and probably hasn't had any lunch. Besides, I—I have to report to work at three.”

“May I speak to you a moment, Mrs. Hammond?”

Both girls turned as Julian Compton approached. Carol squeezed Julie's hand and left. Compton and Julie were alone in the classroom. She felt ill at ease, even though she knew that he liked her, even though he was the kindest man she'd ever known.

“I'm disappointed you didn't feel like participating today, Julie,” he said. “I wish you could bring yourself to take an active part. You're every bit as good as any of the others. Better than most of them.”

“You don't really know that,” Julie replied.

“I know,” Compton told her. “I have instincts about these things, and the one time I coaxed you up to read, you were magnificent. You
were
Hedda Gabler. You forgot all about Julie Hammond, forgot your shyness. Everyone in class was bowled over.”

“I—I was petrified.”

“But only for a few minutes. After you got into the role, you weren't nervous at all. How am I going to break you out of your shell, Julie? How am I going to teach you anything if you won't let me help?”

“I learn so much by just—by just observing, Mr. Compton. I'm not actually a student. The others would resent it if I—if I took up your time. Please—just let me watch.”

Compton frowned, his affection for this timid creature plainly visible in his eyes. She had a rotten complexion, her demeanor was painfully self-effacing, but Compton knew his business, and he knew she had a quality rare indeed. With training, with polish, with enough self-confidence, she could be another Laurette Taylor, another Maggie Sullavan. Compton had been teaching for eight years now, and in all that time he'd never had another student with this child's potential. Acting was mostly magic, he knew. You could teach them technique. You could teach them how to project, how to use their bodies, but you couldn't give them the magic. It was a divine gift, and Julie Hammond had it in spades. He'd sensed it that evening last August when he had come upon her sitting on the bedroom floor, holding his two children absolutely spellbound. He'd been spellbound himself until she became aware of his presence and drew back into her shell.