Lets not worry about next year till we get through this one, Mrs Murry said. More French toast, boys?
At school Meg was tired and her eyelids sagged and her mind wandered. In social studies she was asked to name the principal imports and exports of Nicaragua, and though she had looked them up dutifully the evening before, now she could remember none of them. The teacher was sarcastic, the rest of the class laughed, and she flung herself down in her seat in a fury. Who cares about the imports and exports of Nicaragua, anyhow? she muttered.
If youre going to be rude, Margaret, you may leave the room, the teacher said.
Okay, I will. Meg flounced out.
During study hall the principal sent for her. What seems to be the problem now, Meg? he asked, pleasantly enough.
Meg looked sulkily down at the floor. Nothing, Mr Jenkins.
Miss Porter tells me you were inexcusably rude.
Meg shrugged.
Dont you realize that you just make everything harder for yourself by your attitude? the principal asked. Now, Meg, Im convinced that you can do the work and keep up with your grade if you will apply yourself, but some of your teachers are not. Youre going to have to do something about yourself. Nobody can do it for you. Meg was silent. Well? What about it, Meg?
I dont know what to do, Meg said.
You could do your homework, for one thing. Wouldnt your mother help you?
If I asked her to.
Meg, is something troubling you? Are you unhappy at home? Mr Jenkins asked.
At last Meg looked at him, pushing at her glasses in a characteristic gesture. Everythings fine at home.
Im glad to hear it. But I know it must be hard on you to have your father away
Meg eyed the principal warily, and ran her tongue over the barbed line of her brace.
Have you had any news from him lately?
Meg was sure it was not only imagination that made her feel that behind Mr Jenkins surface concern was a gleam of avid curiosity. Wouldnt he like to know! she thought. And if I knew anything hes the last person Id tell. Well, one of the last.
The postmistress must know that it was almost a year now since the last letter, and heaven knows how many people shed told, or what unkind guesses shed made about the reason for the long silence.
Mr Jenkins waited for an answer, but Meg only shrugged.
Just what was your fathers line of business? Mr Jenkins asked. Some kind of scientist, wasnt he?
He is a physicist. Meg bared her teeth to reveal the two ferocious lines of her brace.
Meg, dont you think youd make a better adjustment to life if you faced facts?
I do face facts, Meg said. Theyre lots easier to face than people, I can tell you.
Then why dont you face facts about your father?
You leave my father out of it! Meg shouted.
Stop bellowing, Mr Jenkins said sharply. Do you want the entire school to hear you?
So what? Meg demanded. Im not ashamed of anything Im saying. Are you?
Mr Jenkins sighed. Do you enjoy being the most belligerent, uncooperative child in school?
Meg ignored this. She leaned over the desk towards the principal. Mr Jenkins, youve met my mother, havent you? You cant accuse her of not facing facts, can you? Shes a scientist. She has doctors degrees in both biology and bacteriology. Her business is facts. When she tells me that my father isnt coming home, Ill believe it. As long as she says father is coming home, then Ill believe that.
Mr Jenkins sighed again. No doubt your mother wants to believe that your father is coming home, Meg. Very well, I cant do anything else with you. Go on back to study hall. Try to be a little less antagonistic. Maybe your work would improve if your general attitude were more tractable.
When Meg got home from school her mother was in the lab, the twins were at basketball, and Charles Wallace, the kitten and Fortinbras were waiting for her. Fortinbras jumped up, put his front paws on her shoulders, and gave her a kiss, and the kitten rushed to his empty saucer and mewed loudly.
Come on, Charles Wallace said. Lets go.
Where? Meg asked. Im hungry, Charles. I dont want to go anywhere till Ive had something to eat. She was still sore from the interview with Mr Jenkins, and her voice sounded cross. Charles Wallace looked at her thoughtfully as she went to the refrigerator and gave the kitten some milk, then drank a mugful herself.
He handed her a paper bag. Heres a sandwich and some cookies and an apple. I thought wed better go see Mrs Whatsit.
Oh, golly, Meg said. Why, Charles?
Youre still uneasy about her, arent you? Charles asked.
Well, yes.
Dont be. Shes all right. I promise you. Shes on our side.
How do you know?
Meg, he said impatiently, I know.
But why should we go see her now?
I want to find out more about that tesseract thing. Didnt you see how it upset mother? You know when mother cant control the way she feels, when she lets us see shes upset, then its something big.
Meg thought for a moment. Okay, lets go. But lets take Fortinbras with us.
Well, of course. He needs the exercise.
They set off, Fortinbras rushing ahead, then doubling back to the two children, then leaping off again. The Murrys lived about four miles out of the village. Behind the house was a pine wood and it was through this that Charles Wallace took Meg.
Charles, you know shes going to get in awful trouble Mrs Whatsit, I mean if they find out shes broken into the haunted house. And taking Mrs Buncombes sheets and everything. They could send her to jail.
One of the reasons I want to go over this afternoon is to warn them.
Them?
I told you she was there with her two friends. Im not even sure it was Mrs Whatsit herself who took the sheets, though I wouldnt put it past her.
But what would she want all those sheets for?
I intend to ask her, Charles Wallace said, and to tell them theyd better be more careful. I dont really think theyll let anybody find them, but I just thought we ought to mention the possibility. Sometimes during vacations some of the boys go out there looking for thrills, but I dont think anybodys apt to right now, what with basketball and everything.
They walked in silence for a moment through the fragrant woods, the rusty pine needles gentle under their feet. Up above them the wind made music in the branches. Charles Wallace slipped his hand confidingly in Megs, and the sweet, little-boy gesture warmed her so that she felt the tense knot inside her begin to loosen. Charles loves me at any rate, she thought.
School awful again today? he asked after a while.
Yes. I got sent to Mr Jenkins. He made snide remarks about father.
Charles Wallace nodded sagely. I know.
How do you know?
Charles Wallace shook his head. I cant quite explain. You tell me, thats all.
But I never say anything. You just seem to know.
Everything about you tells me, Charles said.
How about the twins? Meg asked. Do you know about them, too?
I suppose I could if I wanted to. If they needed me. But its sort of tiring, so I just concentrate on you and mother.
You mean you read our minds?