sk.carrie-第2章

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y　wary　of。。。
When　the　girls　were　gone　to　their　Period　Two　classes　and　the　bell　had　been　silenced　（several　of　them　had　slipped　quietly　out　the　back　door　before　Miss　Desjardin　could　begin　to　take　names）；　Miss　Desjardin　employed　the　standard　tactic　for　hysterics：　She　slapped　Carrie　smartly　across　the　face。　She　hardly　would　have　admitted　the　pleasure　the　act　gave　her；　and　she　certainly　would　have　denied　that　she　regarded　Carrie　as　a　fat；　whiny　bag　of　lard。　A　first…year　teacher；　she　still　believed　that　she　thought　all　children　were　good。
Carrie　looked　up　at　her　dumbly；　face　still　contorted　and　working。　'M…M…Miss　D…D…Des…D…'
'Get　up；'　Miss　Desjardin　said　dispassionately。　'Get　up　and　tend　to　yourself。'
'I'm　bleeding　to　death！'　Carrie　screamed；　and　one　blind；　searching　hand　came　up　and　clutched　Miss　Desjardin's　white　shorts。　It　left　a　bloody　handprint。
'I　。。。　you　。　。　。'　The　gym　teacher's　face　contorted　into　a　pucker　of　disgust；　and　she　suddenly　hurled　Came；　stumbling；　to　her　feet　'Get　over　there！'
Carrie　stood　swaying　between　the　showers　and　the　wall　with　its　dime　sanitary…napkin　dispenser；　slumped　over；　breasts　pointing　at　the　floor；　her　arms　dangling　limply。　She　looked　like　an　ape。　Her　eyes　were　shiny　and　blank。
'Now；'　Miss　Desjardin　said　with　hissing；　deadly　emphasis；　'you　take　one　of　those　napkins　out　。。。　no；　never　mind　the　coin　slot；　it's　broken　anyway。。。　take　one　and。。。　damn　it；　will　you　do　it！　You　act　as　if　you　never　had　a　period　before。'
'Period？'　Carrie　said。
Her　expression　of　plete　unbelief　was　too　genuine；　too　full　of　dumb　and　hopeless　horror；　to　be　ignored　or　denied。　A　terrible　and　black　foreknowledge　grew　in　Rita　Desjardin's　mind。　It　was　incredible；　could　not　be。　She　herself　had　begun　menstruation　shortly　after　her　eleventh　birthday　and　had　gone　to　the　head　of　the　stairs　to　yell　down　excitedly：　'Hey；　Mum；　I'm　on　the　rag！'
'Carrie？'　she　said　now。　She　advanced　toward　the　girl。
'Carrie？'
Carrie　flinched　away。　At　the　same　instant；　a　rack　of　softball　bats　in　the　corner　fell　over　with　a　large；　echoing　bang。　They　rolled　every　which　way；　making　Desjardin　jump。
'Carrie；　is　this　your　first　period？'
But　now　that　the　thought　had　been　admitted；　she　hardly　had　to　ask。　The　blood　was　dark　and　flowing　with　terrible　heaviness。　Both　of　Carrie's　legs　were　smeared　and　splattered　with　it；　as　though　she　had　waded　through　a　river　of　blood。
'It　hurts；'　Carrie　groaned。　'My　stomach　。。。'
'That　passes；'　Miss　Desjardin　said。　Pity　and　self…shame　met　in　her　and　mixed　uneasily。　'You　have　to　。。。　uh；　stop　the　flow　of　blood。　You…'
There　was　a　bright　flash　overhead；　followed　by　a　flashgunlike　pop　as　a　lightbulb　sizzled　and　went　out。　Miss　Desjardin　cried　out　with　surprise；　and　it　occurred　to　her　（the　whole　damn　place　is　falling　in）　that　this　kind　of　thing　always　seemed　to　happen　around　Carrie　when　she　was　upset；　as　if　bad　luck　dogged　her　every　step。　The　thought　was　gone　almost　as　quickly　as　it　had　e。　She　took　one　of　the　sanitary　napkins　from　the　broken　dispenser　and　unwrapped　it。
'Look；'　she　said；　'Like　this…'
From　The　Shadow　Exploded　（p。　54）：
Carrie　White's　mother；　Margaret　White；　gave　birth　to　her　daughter　on　September　21；　1963；　under　circumstances　which　can　only　be　termed　bizarre。　In　fact；　an　overview　of　the　Came　White　case　leaves　the　careful　student　with　one　feeling　ascendant　over　all　others：　that　Carrie　was　the　only　issue　of　a　family　as　odd　as　any　that　has　ever　been　brought　to　popular　attention。
As　noted　earlier；　Ralph　White　died　in　February　of　1963　when　a　steel　girder　fell　out　of　a　carrying　sling　on　a　housing…project　job　in　Portland。　Mrs　White　continued　to　live　alone　in　their　suburban　Chamberlain　bungalow。
Due　to　the　White's　near…fanatical　fundamentalist　religious　beliefs；　Mrs　White　had　no　friends　to　see　her　through　her　period　of　bereavement。　And　when　her　labour　began　seven　months　later；　she　was　alone。
At　approximately　1：30　P。M。　on　September　21；　the　neighbours　on　Carlin　Street　began　to　hear　screams　from　the　White　bungalow。　The　police；　however；　were　not　summoned　to　the　scene　until　after　6：00　P。M。　We　are　left　with　two　unappetizing　alternatives　to　explain　this　time　lag：　Either　Mrs　White's　neighbours　on　the　street　did　not　wish　to　bee　involved　in　a　police　investigation；　or　dislike　for　her　had　bee　so　strong　that　they　deliberately　adopted　a　wait…and…see　attitude。　Mrs　Georgia　McLaughlin；　the　only　one　of　the　three　remaining　residents　who　were　on　the　street　at　that　time　and　who　would　talk　to　me；　said　that　she　did　not　call　the　police　because　she　thought　the　screams　had　something　to　do　with　'holy　rollin'。'
When　the　police　did　arrive　at　6：22　P。M。　the　screams　had　bee　irregular。　Mrs　White　was　found　in　her　bed　upstairs；　and　the　investigating　officer；　Thomas　G。　Mearton。　at　first　thought　she　had　been　the　victim　of　an　assault。　The　bed　was　drenched　with　blood；　and　a　butcher　knife　lay　on　the　floor。　It　was　only　then　that　he　saw　the　baby；　still　partially　wrapped　in　the　placental　membrane；　at　Mrs　White's　breast。　She　had　apparently　cut　the　umbilical　cord　herself　with　the　knife。
It　staggers　both　imagination　and　belief　to　advance　the　hypothesis　that　Mrs　Margaret　White　did　not　know　she　was　pregnant；　or　even　understand　what　the　word　entails；　and　recent　scholars　such　as　J。　W。　Bankson　and　George　Felding　have　made　a　more　reasonable　case　for　the　hypothesis　that　the　concept；　linked　irrevocably　in　her　mind　with　the　'sin'　of　intercourse；　had　been　blocked　entirely　from　her　mind。　She　may　simply　have　refused　to　believe　that　such　a　thing　could　happen　to　her。
We　have　records　of　at　least　three　letters　to　a　friend　in　Kenosha；　Wisconsin；　that　seem　to　prove　conclusively　that　Mrs　White　believed；　from　her　fifth　month　on；　that　she　had　'a　cancer　of　the　womanly　parts'　and　would　soon　join　her　husband　in　heaven　。。。
When　Miss　Desjardin　led　Carrie　up　to　the　office　fifteen　minutes　later；　the　halls　were　mercifully　empty。　Classes　droned　onwards　behind　closed　doors。
Carrie's　shrieks　had　finally　ended；　but　she　had　continued　to　weep　with　steady　regularity。　Desjardin　had　finally　placed　the　napkin　herself；　cleaned　the　girl　up　with　wet　paper　towels；　and　gotten　her　back　into　her　plain　cotton　underpants。
She　tried　twice　to　explain　the　monplace　reality　of　menstruation；　but　Carrie　clapped　her　hands　over　her　ears　and　continued　to　cry。
Mr　Morton；　the　assistant　principal；　was　out　of　his　office　in　a　flash　when　they　entered。　Billy　deLois　and　Henry　Trennant；　two　boys　waiting　for　the　lecture　due　them　for　cutting　French　I；　goggled　around　from　their　chairs。
'e　in；'　Mr　Morton　said　briskly。　'e　right　in。'　He　glared　over　Desjardin's　shoulder　at　the　boys；　who　were　staring　at　the　bloody　handprint　on　her　shorts。　'What　are　YOU　looking　at？'
'Blood；'　Henry　said；　and　smiled　with　a　kind　of　vacuous　surprise。
'Two　detention　periods；'　Morton　snapped。　He　glanced　down　at　the　bloody　handprint　and　blinked。
He　closed　the　door　behind　them　and　began　pawing　through　the　top　drawer　of　his　filing　cabinet　for　a　school　accident　form。
'Are　you　all　right；　uh…？'
'Carrie；'　Desjardin　supplied。　'Carrie　White。'　Mr　Morton　had　finally　located　an　accident　form。　There　was　a　large　coffee　stain　on　it。　'You　won't　need　that；　Mr　Morton。'
'I　suppose　it　was　the　trampoline。　We　just　。。。　I　won't？'
'No。　But　I　think　Carrie　should　be　allowed　to　go　home　for　the　rest　of　the　day。　She's　had　a　rather　frightening　experience。'　Her　eyes　flashed　a　signal　which　he　caught　but　could　not　interpret。
'Yes；　okay；　if　you　say　so。　Good。　Fine。'　Morton　crumpled　the　form　back　into　the　filing　cabinet；　slammed　it　shut　with　his　thumb　in　the　drawer；　and　grunted。　He　whirled　gracefully　to　the　door；　yanked　it　open；　glared　at　Billy　and　Henry；　and　called：　'Miss　Fish；　could　we　have　a　dismissal　slip　here；　please？　Carrie　Wright。'
'White；'　said　Miss　Desjardin。
'White；'　Morton　agreed。
Billy　deLois　sniggered。
'Week's　detention！'　Morton　barked。　A　blood　blister　was　forming　under　his　thumbnail。　Hurt　like　hell。　Carrie's　steady；　monotonous　weeping　went　on　and　on。
Miss　Fish　brought　the　yellow　dismissal　slip　and　Morton　scrawled　his　initials　on　it　with　his　silver　pocket　pencil；　wincing　at　the　pressure　on　his　wounded　thumb。
'Do　you　need　a　ride；　Cassie？'　he　asked。　'We　can　call　a　cab　if　you　need　one。'
She　shook　her　head。　He　noticed　with　distaste　that　a　large　bubble　of　green　mucus　had　formed　at　one　nostril。　Morton　looked　over　her　head　and　at　Miss　Desjardin。
'I'm　sure　she'll　be　all　right；'　she　said。　'Carrie　only　has　to　go　over　to　Carlin　Street。　The　fresh　air　will　do　her　good。'
Morton　gave　the　girl　the　yellow　slip。　'You　can　go　now；　Cassie；'　he　said　magnanimously。
'That's　not　my　name！'　she　screamed　suddenly。
Morton　recoiled；　and　Miss　Desjardin　jumped　as　if　struck　from　behind。　The　heavy　ceramic　ashtray　on　Morton's　desk　（it　was　Rodin's　Thinker　with　his　head　turned　into　a　receptacle　for　cigarette　butts）　suddenly　toppled　to　the　rug；　as　if　to　take　cover　from　the　force　of　her　scream。　Butts　and　flakes　of　Morton's　pipe　tobacco　scattered　on　the　pale…green　nylon　rug。
'Now；　listen；'　Morton　said；　trying　to　muster　sternness；　'I　know　you're　upset；　but　that　doesn't　mean　I'll　stand　for…'
'Please；'　Miss　Desjardin　said　quietly。
Morton　blinked　at　her　and　then　nodded　curtly。　He　tried　to　project　the　image　of　a　lovable　John　Wayne　figure　while　performing　the　disciplinary　functions　that　were　his　main　job　as　Assistant　Principal；　but　did　not　succeed　very　well。　The　administration　（usually　represented　at　Jay　Cee　suppers；　P。T。A。　functions；　and　American　Legion　award　ceremonies　by　Principal　Henry　Grayle）　usually　termed　him　'lovable　Mort。'　The　student　body　was　more　apt　to　term　him　'that　crazy　ass…jabber　from　the　office。'　But；　as　few　students　such　as　Billy　deLois　and　Henry　Trennant　spoke　at　P。T。A。　functions　or　town　meetings；　the　administration's　view　tended　to　carry　the　day。
Now　lovable　Mort；　still　secretly　nursing　his　jammed　thumb；　smiled　at　Carrie　and　said；　'Go　along　then　if　you　like；　Miss　Wright。　Or　would　you　like　to　sit　a　spell　and　just　collect　yourself？'
'I'll　go；'　she　muttered；　and　swiped　at　her　hair。　She　got　up；　then　looked　around　at　Miss　Desjardin。　Her　eyes　were　wide　open　and　dark　with　knowledge。　'They　laughed　at　me。　Threw　things。　They've　always　laughed；'
Desjardin　could　only　look　at　her　helplessly。
Carrie　left。
For　a　moment　there　was　silence；　Morton　and　Desjardin　watched　her　go。　Then；　with　an　awkward　throat…clearing　sound；　Mr　Morton　hunkered　down　carefully　and　began　to　sweep　together　the　debris　from　the　fallen　ashtray。
'What　was　that　all　about？'
She　sighed　and　looked　at　the　drying　maroon　hand…print　on　her　shorts　with　distaste。　'She　got　her　period。　Her　first　period。　In　the　shower。'
Morton　cleared　his　throat　again　and　his　cheeks　went　pink。　The　sheet　of　paper　he　was　sweeping　with　moved　even　faster。　'Isn't　she　a　bit；　uh…'
'Old　for　her　first？　Yes。　That's　what　made　it　so　traumatic　for　her。　Although　I　can't　understand　why　her　mother。。。'　The　thought　trailed　off；　forgotten　for　the　moment。　'I　don't　think　I　handled　it　very　well；　Morty；　but　I　didn't　understand　what　was　going　on。　She　thought　she　was　bleeding　to　death。'
He　stared　up　sharply。
'I　don't　believe　she　knew　there　was　such　a　thing　as　menstruation　until　half　an　hour　ago。'
'Hand　me　that　little　brush　there；　Miss　Desjardin。　Yes；　that's　it。'　She　handed　him　a　little　brush　with　the　legend　Chamberlain　Hardware　and　Lumber　pany　NEVER　Brushes　You　Off　written　up　the　handle。　H