Chapter 18
SOPHIA
Sophia gasped and sat up in bed as cold water dripped down her face. When she opened her eyes, Willa was standing over her, holding a glass.
“What the heck, Sophia? You scared me half to death.”
Sophia blinked. Her lashes were heavy with water, and her arms burned. It had happened. After nearly two months of wearing herself out at basketball practice, praying to Walter’s God, and denying herself sleep, her secret was out. She was a freak.
“What in the world were you dreaming about?”
Besides Walter, Willa was the only person ever to ask her that question. On the farm, Ma Deary just yelled at her to get herself together and stop disturbing the peace with her nonsense.
“A fire,” she answered hoarsely.
“Were you in it?”
Sophia nodded.
Willa picked up a face towel from her desk and handed it to her. “Sorry about the water, I didn’t know what else to do. You were screaming and scratching your arms.”
“It’s okay.” Sophia wiped her face. Water had dripped down into the neck of her nightgown, soaking her to the waist.
“Tell me about the dream.”
Sophia closed her eyes. “I’m in a kitchen.
In the back of a big house. Small children are eating at a table, two and sometimes three.
And then all of a sudden there are flames.
Everywhere. Lapping and licking. Hot. The smoke is choking the wind out of me and stinging my eyes.
I try to reach for the children to save them, but just as I do, flames shoot up my arms. I’ve had this dream for as long as I can remember. ”
“Have you ever talked to anyone about this? Like a doctor?”
A snort puffed from Sophia’s nose before she could censor it.
Ma Deary never took them to the doctors.
If they got sick, Ma would administer her own remedy.
The only time anyone had ever gone to the hospital was when Walter fell out of a tree and broke his arm.
But even then it was Unc who had taken him, not Ma Deary.
“No.” Sophia got out of her bed, pushing the sheets to the side so they could air-dry.
“Well, my father is a doctor. Maybe when you meet him, he can help you.”
“Maybe,” she said, knowing that she would never ask Willa’s father to fix her. It was one thing for Willa to know, but Sophia didn’t want her parents to think their precious daughter was rooming with someone who was sick in the head.
The floor was cold as Sophia padded to her closet. She turned her back to Willa and slipped out of the wet nightgown and into her Wranglers and an oversize T-shirt.
“You do know the fall dance is approaching.” Willa sat down at her desk and looked at her face in a hand mirror.
Sophia had seen flyers up all over school but had no intention of going.
“My mother sent me a picture of the dress she ordered for me. Want to see it?”
“Sure.”
Willa reached into her desk drawer and pulled out an envelope, then unfolded a glossy page from a catalog. “What do you think?”
The dress was peach, with puffy sleeves. The bottom was shaped like a bell and looked expensive.
“It’s gorgeous.”
“You know the dance is called the Old South Ball. From the pictures I’ve seen in the yearbook, the girls wear dresses with petticoats, so make sure you have one. Have you phoned home for your dress yet?” Willa said, applying blush to her cheeks.
“I’m not going.”
Willa’s hand froze in midbrush. “Of course you’re going. Don’t worry about a date. I wasn’t supposed to tell you this, but Claude’s planning to ask you this weekend. So call home for your dress.”
Sophia hadn’t phoned home in the two months that she had been at Forest. Even if she had, there was no way Ma Deary would agree to send her a tube of toothpaste, let alone a dress for a dance. “We will see.”
“Please, Sophia. It won’t be fun without you. Don’t leave me out there by myself.”
Sophia didn’t want to go to the dance with Claude, had nothing to wear and no one to ask for help, but the thought of disappointing Willa made her feel worse. “I’ll see what Ma says and if she has enough time for a dress,” Sophia lied.
“You’re the best. I have to go. I’m meeting Max on the lawn.
” Willa took one last look at herself in the mirror.
She looked well put together, as usual, in a pair of pedal pushers with bobby socks and a striped top that accentuated her full bust. Willa was as curvy as Sophia was slim.
“I think he’s going to ask me to the dance today.
I want to look good but not like I tried too hard. You know what I mean?”
Sophia nodded and closed the door behind Willa, pressing away the feeling of jealousy that had bloomed from the moment Willa said she was meeting Max.
Deep down, she knew that it made sense for Max to like Willa.
Not only was Willa gorgeous, but they also had the same air about them that said they belonged.
As Sophia gathered up her physics book and notepad, she wondered how she would get her hands on a dress. There certainly wouldn’t be any stuffed in the lost-and-found bin.
She had time for a quick breakfast before she met her friend Nancy in the library to study for their physics test. As she moved through the breakfast line, piling her plate with pancakes, sausage links, and eggs, she spotted Miz Peaches, the lunch lady.
“Hey, sugar. Why the long face?”
The dining hall was mostly empty; students preferred to sleep in on Saturday mornings.
Sophia whispered, “The Old South Ball is coming up. Willa is insisting that I go, but I don’t have a dress.”
Miz Peaches arched her painted eyebrows. “Well, I just so happen to oversee the local Miss NAACP Pageant held at my church. I’m sure I can find something in your size.”
“Really?” Sophia brightened.
“Sure, sugar.” Miz Peaches took the pencil from behind her ear and started writing down notes.
“Let me feel your waist.” She came around the hot station and put her cool hands on Sophia’s hips and her wrists and then did something with her red fingernails that started at the top of Sophia’s head and moved to her feet.
Sophia looked around to see if anyone was watching them, but the few students in the room were consumed with one another.
“Got your measurements.”
“Just like that?”
“Sugar, dressmaking has been in my family for three generations. I’ve been sewing since I was knee-high to a spider. Let me see what we have at the church that might fit.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Just know that when I’m finished with you, you’ll be the talk of that ball.”
“Thank you, Miz Peaches.” Sophia beamed.
“Now, go and eat before your breakfast gets cold. You leave the rest to me.”
On the evening of the Old South Ball, Willa’s tennis team had planned to take pictures on the lawn before the start of the dance, and she left their room in a cocoon of eye shadow, hair spray, and perfume before Sophia had even started getting ready.
Since she had arrived at Forest, Sophia had washed her hair sparingly, not wanting to disrupt the black dye, but even though the Ogilvie box read “permanent color,” each time she shampooed, her hair faded.
As she combed it through in preparation for the dance, she noticed that her hair was now a cherry brown and the roots had grown in.
She wondered how much longer she had until she was fully a redhead again.
Orangutan, don’t act like you don’t know your name.
Sophia paced her dorm room floor. Miz Peaches was over thirty minutes late with the gown.
Perhaps something had come up that was more important; after all, they hadn’t known each other long.
Sophia had not been in the habit of depending on people and chided herself for falling for Miz Peaches’s enthusiasm to help her with the dress.
As soon as she had resolved that she would not go, she heard a knock at her door. When she opened it, Miz Peaches breezed in, smelling like citrus and carrying an armful of satin and tulle.
“Sugar, I’m so sorry to be late. There was an accident right at my exit off the highway. The darn lane was backed up for a full mile.”
“I’m just grateful that you made it,” said Sophia, relieved.
It was the first time Sophia had seen Miz Peaches out of uniform. She looked beautiful in a khaki swing dress. Her face was painted, and her hair was curled in the mushroom style that Sophia had seen on Diana Ross.
“Come on, sugar, let me get you in this dress.”
She helped Sophia slip into the petticoat, tied her into a corset, and then slipped the seafoam green dress over her head. Then she pulled and tied and zipped and primped until Sophia was secure in the dress.
Miz Peaches whistled. “Honey, you look like a Southern belle. I feel sorry for those other girls.”
Sophia faced the full-length mirror and gasped. She was taken aback. On the farm, they never dressed up for Easter or went to holiday parties.
“Now, let me just give you a little lipstick, ’cause you’re so pretty, you don’t need much else.” Miz Peaches reached into her purse and pulled out a tube. “There. Now, who’d you say was your escort?”
“Claude.”
“Honey, hush. Be prepared to give him a full-on heart attack.”
Miz Peaches sprayed her down in perfume and then walked her to the lobby, where Claude stood in a black suit, two sizes too big, with a plaid bow tie. He did a double take when he saw her.
“You two have fun,” Miz Peaches said with a wave. “My work here is done.”
“Thanks again,” Sophia called after her before turning to Claude. He cradled a pink and white corsage and held it out to her.
“Sophia. You look… beautiful.”
“Thank you. You do too.”
He stuck out his arm, and reluctantly, she linked hers with his as they walked out of the dormitory.
The sun was nearly gone from the sky, and a light breeze shifted the air.
They moved in silence for a few minutes before Claude struck up a conversation that at least helped them avert an awkward silence.