Chapter 1
The steam on the windows obscured the view of a barren, wind-swept and snow-covered campus from the students in Miss Pyne's English Composition classroom. It was late February. The unseen sky was an icy-blue, frosted with dollops of white clouds propelled across it by the impatient winds.
Miss Walters stood behind her desk at the head of the room. She was English; she looked and dressed it. The expensive tweed suit she wore did an efficient job of disguising what was left of her figure, and her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back from her face in strict enough fashion to almost eradicate her sex.
There were seventeen girls in the room. Sixteen of them wore their cashmere sweaters, soft woolen skirts, single strand of pearls and ponytails as though wearing a uniform. They sat moodily in their straight-backed chairs, looking bored, disinterested and discontented. The seventeenth girl was different. She was Diedre Ryan. She wore a tailored dress of inexpensive green flannel. Instead of the inevitable pearls around her neck, she wore a bright green orlon scarf tied into a rakish bow. Her copper hair was an unruly mass of natural curls which she consistently refused to tie back in a restraining ponytail. She, alone among the girls, was listening with interest and appreciation to the words of Miss Walters.
"Norden," the harsh voice of the teacher directed itself to one of the obviously "in" girls seated before her, "give me the name, author and publication date of the first known English novella." There was no answer. It was obvious to Miss Walters, and to Deedee, that Carol Norden was paying no attention whatsoever to the words of her instructor.
"Norden," the harsh voice barked loudly, jolting the girls from their individual reveries. The inattentive culprit was at a loss to answer a question she hadn't heard, so took the easy way out by claiming a lack of knowledge rather than asking Miss Walters to repeat herself.
"Why don't you know? Haven't you studied the assignment?"
"I forgot to take the book to my room. I left it here." The sullen-mouthed blonde, who was also Deedee Ryans' roommate, was saved from further inquisition by the sound of the buzzer which indicated dismissal of the class. She didn't, however, fail to note the flash of anger in the teacher's eyes, and mentally made a note to devote her entire evening to a study of the project for tomorrow.
In less than a second the seventeen girls were on their feet, books scrambled together, pushing toward the door, out of the room. Once in the corridor, little groups gathered together, laughing, calling to members of other little groups. Deedee Ryan was not included in any of them. She walked slowly down the corridor toward the steps. She walked alone. How she hated these arrogant girls. They might have all the money in the world; they might have old New England families behind them; they might be everything superior they thought they were. But most of them had thick ankles, and their expensive cashmeres and natural pearl strands couldn't disguise their innate dullness and stupidity. Deedee thought of their soft, pleasant voices which so succinctly managed to put her down every time one of them deigned to speak to her. And she wished she could rid herself of the envy she felt. Why, she asked herself-as she had asked herself time and again since she'd arrived at the exclusive woman's college-why had she ever let her parents talk her into attending the Edith Pyne Seminary? She didn't belong, she could never hope to force them to accept her. As she walked slowly down the stairs she remembered, as though from a century ago, the fun and laughter that had colored her high school days. How different it had been.
Almost eighty years ago, Edith Pyne's Seminary had been an old saltbox house on the outskirts of Providence, Rhode Island. Its students consisted of thirty girls selected from the most elite of the many elite New England families. Edith Pyne herself, had been a member of one of those families. She treasured that heritage and, in view of the fact that her complete lack of beauty and feminine appeal had made marriage an impossible goal for her, had turned her life's effort toward sustaining it. Snob appeal failed to occur to her, although it was the firm basis for building her school. When she finally passed away, the Edith Pyne Seminary was established among the elite throughout New England. And although time lowered some of the standards originally set, they were lowered only to those with enough money to make up for the insult. It had remained the school of the Eastern United States Coast, and Diedre Ryan had been wiser than her middle-class Irish parents when she fought against their decision to ignore the class barriers and enroll her. She had given in to them only after a lengthy recitation from both, outlining in detail the sacrifices they had made throughout their married life so that she could have this advantage.
From the very first day, Deedee had known it wouldn't work. She made the effort only because she couldn't bear the thought of her parents' disappointment should she quit. Deedee wrapped her cloth coat tightly about her as she stepped out of the building and started down the walk toward the dormitory. (She was the only girl at the school without at least one fur coat.) She looked back in her memory to that late September day full of sunshine and clean blue air when she'd entered the school, filled with hesitation but somehow still hoping that her parents had been right and she'd been wrong. Crazy, she thought. I must have been crazy to even hope.
The girls hadn't been too distant, right at the beginning. That is, she reminded herself, the new girls hadn't been. But that was before the others had had the chance to tell them she was nobody. Daughter of an Irish upstart without very much money, no family background. If she hadn't had such a fantastic scholastic record she could never have been accepted. Even with it, she shouldn't have been. And within a week Deedee Ryan had been put in her place at Edith Pyne's, as neatly as a piece of carved turkey. With a resigned sense of frustration she accepted the fact as all she should ever have expected. For a while, when Carol Norden agreed to become her roommate, she knew hope again. It was much later when she learned that Carol hadn't really agreed. Someone had to take her in, and the decision had been made-not through any sense of heart or sympathy, but through the time-tested method of flipping cards. But Deedee wasn't to learn this until too late.
Carol Norden, on her side of the fence, treated Deedee with an off-handed casualness and sometimes almost friendship. It usually depended upon the mood she was in. But no matter, she was the closest-in fact the only-"friend" Deedee had. She made the most of it.
When time for mid-terms arrived, Carol discovered she'd been luckier than she'd thought getting Deedee for a roomie. While the others in her group crammed their small minds with memorized tidbits of information; spent hours preparing their varied methods of carrying help into the test rooms with them; and for a few weeks, at least, were sleepless with worry-Carol, with the help of Deedee Ryan, was catching up on an education she'd ignored during the earlier part of the semester. Deedee had no worries about the exams. The learning part of Edith Pyne's establishment had been, so far, the easiest part of the school for her. She now devoted her time to helping her blond roommate cover the most important phases of her courses. At least, thought Deedee as she forced a few facts into Carol's blond head, she'll be able to pass the tests. It would be to much to ask for good grades.
That morning the March winds showed no signs of letting up as they roared angrily about Pyne Hall. It was the smallest and the most exclusive of the dormitories at the school, and Deedee still couldn't believe her luck in getting to live there. The wind was unusually cold and strong, even for Rhode Island. Within the ivy-covered walls of the old building Deedee awakened to the scream of the wind and, although warm, began to shiver. She had always been possessed of a vivid imagination. She looked across the room toward Carol's bed and nodded a silent reply to the request mirrored in the wide-opened eyes peering over the top of the blanket. Carol took a deep breath and threw off her covers, running rapidly across the short space between the two beds, jumping into the narrow space made ready for her by Deedee. The two girls snuggled closely together, sharing their warmth and giggling softly at their attempt to defeat the cold.
As their mutual body heats joined to stave off the chill rapidly permeating the room, they both watched the hands of the large alarm clock ticking away beside them. In less than ten minutes, Mrs. Frank, their dorm-mother would come sweeping in to uproot her charges. By that time they would have to be up and about, readying themselves for another day of education in their female-populated world. The Mrs. Pyne who headed the college now was a descendant of the original Edith Pyne. She knew how strict her lady ancestor had been about any kind of unusual relationship between her charges, and in her own rather limited fashion was determined to keep any such lesbian attachments from soiling the impeccable reputation of the Seminary. Her determination might have proved more effective had she bothered to acquire more than a surface knowledge of such liaisons. As it was, she remained completely unaware that she was sitting on top of a powder keg of feminine frustrations and that her outdated regulations regarding male instructors and male visitors was a fuse to ignite it. She also remained unaware that her equally outdated, although systematic, methods of checking on the dormitories were quite well known to every girl in the school. All of the many lesbian activities were easily timed to avoid discovery.
Deedee Ryan was one of the few who hadn't tried this way of curing the loneliness and natural impulses which were aroused instead of repressed by the lack of male companionship. She was also a full-blooded, rebellious and passionate young woman. Not only the cold-shoulder treatment she suffered at the hands of the other students, but the thoughtless, misdirected restrictions were proving almost unbearable to her. While still a virgin, she was rapidly approaching the point of taking proper action against the deplorable fact.
Carol Norden had succumbed easily to the blandishments of the first girl to offer her this "out." Since the recent change in her relationship with Deedee she'd begun to think about bringing her around to this new way of thinking. This morning, however, she decided as she looked at the clock again, was not the right time to start her campaign.
"Come on, Deedee. We'd better get up. Prissy Frank-face is due any minute now." Carol crawled out of the warm bed as she spoke and patted the pillow she'd so recently pressured. The movement was made softly, almost regretfully,, but it managed to eliminate all signs of her recent occupation.
"I wonder ... I really wonder, if she's ever missed one of her rounds. No-" Carol chuckled softly-"that would be far too much to expect. But I can wonder, maybe even hope, that she either has been or will be late!" Then she thought to herself that she was being foolish. She should know better than to waste her time in hoping for or wondering such a thing. Any slight change in the strictly regimented world of the Edith Pyne Seminary would automatically become fuel for the guesswork conversations of its many "prisoners." The once or twice such variations had occurred in the past-and those were very far past-were events to be still relished and discussed. Those mistakes might have been the errors of long-forgotten watchdogs, but they were remembered by the faculty. They were all aware their predecessors had become practically legendary, and those kinds of legends were hopefully avoided.
When the much-maligned Mrs. Frank finally arrived (on the dot) to check her young charges, Carol was already singing loudly over the sounds of the shower. Deedee, wrapped in a huge, figure-disguising bathrobe, was selecting her dress for her day. Despite the newfound friendship with Carol, Deedee hadn't adopted the cashmere, pearl and pleated skirt uniform. It was more than the lack of money that kept her from it. Her innate rebellion helped also.
"Everything all right, Diedre?" asked the elderly Mrs. Frank as she entered the room. Her smile was but dimly visible through a mass of worry-wrinkles which had been deeply etched upon her face by the ravages of time.
Although she asked the same question each morning, for some reason it managed to irritate the lithe, young Deedee this time. She turned a rebellious face to her dorm-mother, snapping: "And what could possibly be wrong, Mrs. Frank? In this, the most perfect of all perfect schools?"
The Frank mouth fell wide-open in amazement at this sharp retort. She'd have to call this insolence to the attention of Mrs. Pyne, she thought. She hastily pushed back her second emotion-the knowledge that it could only have come from a young upstart such as Diedre Ryan, who really had no business in such a lovely school. After all, she reasoned, this girl's attitude could be contagious. It had to be stopped before it took hold-although it was quite un-likely the better-bred girls would go along with the Ryan girl. Mrs. Frank closed her mouth in a narrow, pinched moue of annoyance, managed to ignore the expectant expression on Deedee's face. Turning angrily, she swept out of the room without even asking about Carol Norden.
Deedee laughed out loud as she left. She knew she would be in trouble, but the expression she'd raised on Mrs. Frank's face had been worth it. When Carol came bouncing out of the bathroom, red and filled with energy, Deedee didn't mention the exchange of words. But Carol was not unwise and spotted the mood of her roomie immediately. She wished, urgently, that she could take full advantage of it. Later, she reluctantly decided, not now, but soon. It's just about the right time to make the first move. She avoided Deedee's eyes as she started to dress. She also began to plan.
Later that day the two girls sat in a small teashop adjacent to the seminary, nibbling on fig newtons and sipping hot chocolate. The first time they'd been there together a stunned silence had descended upon the other girls. Carol Norden, actually socializing with the outcast Ryan girl! By now, though, the association was tolerated, although none of the other young women joined the new twosome. Deedee, at first quite self-conscious, had grown accustomed to her small taste of "popularity" and usually glowed inwardly when at the teashop. Today, however, her mood of the morning had progressed throughout classes. The rebellion was about to explode. Carol sat quietly, watching the young redhead, knowing an explosion of some sort was imminent, hoping she could maneuver it to her own desires.
"You started at E. P. before I did, Carol." Deedee was speaking softly, her words covered in a shimmer of desperation. "How have you kept from going utterly mad?"
"What in the world are you talking about, Dee?" Carol asked in reply.
"Oh, don't be such a kook!" Deedee snapped back at her. "You know what I'm talking about. I feel as though I'm in a woman's prison instead of a college. Oh, I know it's one of the best." Bitterly she added, "Or at least my parents certainly think so. According to them every sacrifice they've made since I was first born was to get the money to send me here. Their last, and to me biggest, sacrifice was little me." She sipped her cooling chocolate thoughtfully. Almost to herself she added, "But they made one mistake. One great big mistake."
"What was that?" Carol prodded gently. She thought she knew what the answer would be. She did.
"They sent me to a public high school. One of those 'awful places' where it seems fun to dance with another sex. Frankly, it bores hell out of me to have a girl for a partner. It was also, to my earthy way of thinking, fun to date men. Frankly-" and she turned a suddenly bitter gaze upon Carol-"I even enjoyed the necking sessions those dates usually involved. Probably because that was another hobby that involved another sex! I don't think I'd really dig the one-sided bit that seems to go on around this place."
"Have you bothered to give it a try?" Carol's voice was gentle.
Deedee glanced at her in surprise. "You've got to be kidding," she said, laughing.
Once more the gentle, now soft and insinuating voice said, "Not necessarily, Carol. Even Antoinette said, 'if they don't have bread, let 'em eat cake.' As the beats probably say, 'if you ain't tried it you can't knock it.' "
Deedee felt a faint stirring within her loins. Her eyes felt heavy-lidded as she turned them to stare in amazement at Carol. She wasn't at all sure what was happening to her, but the excitement within was one of the first pleasurable sensations she'd known since her arrival at Edith Pyne. "Have you-" she stuttered slightly over the words-"that is ... well, have you tried it?"
"Ummm," murmured Carol, neither admitting nor denying. "Let's not talk about it any more for now. Maybe later tonight, hm?"
Deedee hesitated. Her hesitation told Carol she'd come very close to winning the all-important first round. "You'll have to admit, Dee, anything's bound to be better than no sex life at all."
Deedee remained silent for another couple of seconds, then raised her eyes to look at her roommate once again. The naked desire she saw sent a new thrill tingling down her spine. "That-" and her voice was strange to her own ears-"might well be true." She tried to shake off this new mood, without immediate success. "Well, as you said, we'll talk about it again-later."
"It's a date," Carol replied, mentally adding and ifs going to be my pleasure. She then hastened to change the subject before Deedee would fully realize the implications of the conversation and decide to back out before she got started. Carol knew better than to talk the thing to death; knew well enough to let imagination and loneliness work their wonders on her friend. She'd be ready to take up where they had left off.
Before that night ended the newly found fire for friendship that had sprung up between Carol and Deedee had died a quick death. Carol was used to the good clothes, the delectable compliments which accompanied their wearing, the business of being thought entertaining and fairly well above reproach. She had no past upon which to build a memory, or a character, and no present upon which to face her own wrongs. She had been quite happy as the center of her own group at the Edith Pyne Seminary; quite sure of herself when she ignored them to do the "good deed" of allowing Diedre Ryan to help her; quite confidant that her own quick answer to the sex problem in a girl's school would be accepted, yes even adopted, by the lucky recipient of her affections.
Carol hadn't known Deedee. When she finally came down from her private ivory tower it was to find herself despised by a person she had always thought of as beneath her. She felt foolish. The Irish girl's sense of degradation from the scene made Carol feel ashamed. From that morning on, Carol Norden felt something missing. She hated it and she vowed to make Deedee pay.
For Deedee, the reaction was completely different. She despised herself for the momentary weakness which had allowed the ugliness to blossom. She despised, with a sense of shame for the emotion, Carol Norden for having let her down so much. She was sleepless throughout the night, and in her sleeplessness gave birth to a small, hard core of hatred for her own sex. It had been her mother, she remembered, who had wanted her to come to this den of horror. It had been the "den-mother" who had started the morning which had ended in such an ugly, perverted way. It had been all of the females in the place who had let her feel so lonely that she was open, willing, but obviously not quite ready for the lesbian pitch.
Deedee got up the next morning with a meek face and strangely mild manner. Both belied the red hair and rebellious body. Before the buzzer ended her first class, she had decided to skip out of the dorm that night, make her way-somehow-into the neighboring fishing village.
Deedee was aching to live in a man-woman world.