Vivian Schurfranz - Laura

Laura Mitchell gazed out the classroom window at the snow-laden branchesand the spirals of gray smoke that drifted upward from the brick chimneyon a roof and into the bright blue sky. A few wet snowflakes gentlydescended on the iron fire escape. Lauras thoughts strayed from Mr.Blairs boring lecture on the Civil War to Joe Menotti. Darling Joe, thelove of her life! To think he didnt even know she was alive! How sheyearned for him to see her as a mature young woman, instead of afreckled-faced youngster. After all, on March 10, 1918, she would besixteen and next fall a senior at Jefferson High.

With a pang she wondered if the war would still be raging and if Joewould be sent overseas. She hoped that Joe, who was so good and kind,would be spared. She knew that his enrollment in medical school wouldhelp, but more and more young men were being sent overseas to fight theGermans. The war, which had been going on for four years, surelycouldnt last much longer.

Suddenly Joes handsome image danced across the frosty windowpane. Inthe lacy pattern she could trace his dark head and his finely chiseledprofile with the strong chin and straight nose. Gradually her own facematerialized. All at once his head moved down to touch her lips. As shevisualized his sparkling dark eyes and slow grin, she smiled and a waveof love swept over her. Yes, she knew she was a woman, but now she hadto convince Joe of that fact. At least she had Friday night at themovies to look forward to.

Every Friday night since she had been nine, and Joe thirteen, he hadfaithfully taken her to the movies. Well, one of these Friday nights hewould see her in a new light. After all, she was beginning to noticethat a transformation was taking place in her. Only last night she hadstood before the mirror and examined her changing features. She wasgrowing up! Her freckles were dwindling, and her big green eyes hadtaken on a deep, rich emerald glow, especially when contrasted with herdeep brown hair surrounding her pure oval face. Her nose, though short,was well formed, and her cheeks had traded their roundness for hollowvalleys. Her figure, too, she realized, was maturing. She smiled as shethought of how she had preened and pranced around the room, dressed onlyin her "teddy bear," her silky one-piece underwear.

Her mother, pillar of the war effort, would have thought her frivolous.Maude Mitchell was always involved in activities to help her communityand society, so she would not have been amused at Lauras preening. Shewould no doubt have laid down stronger guidelines for Laura to follow,so her excess energy would have a more proper outlet. It seemed to Laurathat she, rather than her older sister, Sarah, received the brunt ofnew guidelines and ground rules in the Mitchell household.

Lauras thoughts returned to her new look and the way it could help hergain Joes attention. She promised herself that at one of these Fridaynight movies he would see the new Laura Mitchell. She tucked an unrulycurl back from her cheeks, pondering how she could accomplish thismission without appearing like a flirt. Quietly she tapped her penagainst the inkwell. There must be some sort of solution to thisproblem.

"Laura?"

"Y-yes?" she stammered, pulling her thoughts back to the chalkyclassroom.

"Wed like an answer," said Mr. Blair, her history instructor. He was ayoung man in his thirties who was always impeccably dressed from hisspats to his high, stiff collar. With arched eyebrows he now waited,holding the map pointer against his left leg, much as a Prussian generalmight hold his swagger stick. His blond hair was oiled to perfection andcombed back from his high forehead, accentuating the ice-blue eyes thatnow bored into hers. He looked like a mannequin as he stood rigidlypoised, awaiting her answer.

"I-Im sorry, but I didnt hear the question." She felt the warmth creepinto her cheeks. No matter what she had done this semester, she hadnever been able to please Mr. Blair.

"Of course you didnt," he said softly. "Youve been daydreaming again.I asked you to describe Picketts Charge for the Confederacy." His smilewas smug, certain she wouldnt be able to answer.

Just last night, however, Laura had read about the charge of theSoutherners as they tried to break the Union line at Gettysburg. Shevividly recalled every detail as she cleared her throat and began torecite, "Picketts force of about fifteen thousand men attacked theUnion center. Heavy artillery was used on both sides, and Pickettscavalry crumpled but re-formed and pressed forward." She paused,enjoying Mr. Blairs widening eyes. She could have sworn his blondmustache twitched, as she went on, "When the Confederate troopsapproached closer, the Northern sharpshooters opened fire, GeneralPickett was forced to retreat to Seminary Ridge." She ended her responsewith a sweet smile at her teacher.

Running his fingers up and down his watch chain, which dangled betweentwo vest pockets, Mr. Blair observed her for a moment. Reluctantly henodded and muttered, "Not bad for a girl."

Laura supposed she should have been pleased at his backhandedcompliment, but she only flushed angrily. Why was he always surprisedthat a girl could grasp history as well as a boy? Seething, she watchedas he turned and drew a map of the battlefield on the blackboard,showing the various positions of the generals.

"Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, is only about one hundred miles fromWashington, D.C., but our city wasnt threatened." His monotonous voicecontinued, and Laura was no longer interested in the Civil War. Shewished he would discuss current news and what was happening along thewestern front. Thousands of Americans were pouring into France andfilling the gaps in the Allied line. How many of General "Black Jack"Pershings troops, including her brother, Michael, were in France? Ifonly this wretched war would end and Michael would come home again. Shemissed him. Her older sister, Sarah, had a double reason to wish the warwere over, for besides Michael, her fianc, Frank, was in northwesternFrance. Frank was a flyer with the Lafayette Escadrille. Poor Sarah. Shedidnt talk much about Frank the experts predicted that the averagelife of a pilot was only three weeks. Frank had been a flyer in Francefor three months, one of the lucky ones. But luck had a way of runningout. He wrote to Sarah often, and she knew their letters were filledwith wedding plans. As soon as he came back to Washington they wouldmarry. Please, God, she prayed, let Frank come back safe and sound.

"Cassandra." Mr. Blair called out the name of Lauras closest friend."What was the result of Lees retreat at Gettysburg? Did General Meadepursue him?"

Laura glanced over at Cassie, whose large brown eyes stared at Mr.Blair. Cassie finally lowered her long lashes and studied her foldedhands. It was obvious she didnt know the answer.

Lauras hand shot up in the air, waving it eagerly back and forth,trying to save her friend. But Mr. Blair wouldnt be sidetracked. Hestudiously ignored Laura.

"Have you read the material, Cassandra ?" he asked with a resignedexpression on his face. He glanced at Olaf Jorgensen, his prize historystudent, and a brief smile flickered between them.

Cassie looked up, her elegant long neck accentuating her short, wavyhair. Her delicate face was impassive as she said quietly, "No, sir, Ididnt have time for my school-work last night."

"You didnt have time!" he mused. "How very odd. Perhaps we shouldtake class time to read our assignments." His lopsided smile mockedhis unsmiling eyes.

Cassandra said nothing, but her cheeks reddened. Mr. Blair continued,"Did you have more pressing matters to attend to rather than yourhistory?"

"Yes, sir, I did," she said, as her lovely chin rose a notch and shelooked straight into Mr. Blairs eyes.