The Prodigal Daughter Read online

  The election was due to take place at the end of the second week of the new school year, so the candidates had only ten days to gather votes. Many of Florentyna’s friends dropped in at Rigg Street to assure her of their support. Florentyna was surprised to find some support where she least expected it, while other classmates who she had imagined were friends told Edward they would never back her. Florentyna discussed this problem with Miss Tredgold, who warned her that if you ever run for any office that might bring you privilege or profit, it will always be your contemporaries who do not want to see you succeed in your ambitions. You need have no fear of those who are older or younger than yourself; they know you will never be their rival.

  All the candidates had to write a mini-election address setting out the reasons they wanted to be on the Student Council. Florentyna’s was checked over by Abel, who refused to add or subtract anything, and by Miss Tredgold, who only commented on the grammar.

  Voting was all day Friday at the end of the second week and the result was always announced by the headmaster after assembly the following Monday morning. It was a terrible weekend for Florentyna, and Miss Tredgold spent the entire time saying, “Settle down, child.” Even Edward, who played tennis with her on Sunday afternoon, hardly raised a sweat, winning 6–0, 6–0.

  “It wouldn’t take Jack Kramer to tell you that you’re not concentrating—‘child.’”

  “Oh, do be quiet, Edward. I don’t care whether I’m elected to the Student Council or not.”

  Florentyna woke up at five o’clock on Monday morning and was dressed and ready for breakfast by six. She read the paper through three times and Miss Tredgold did not utter a word to her until it was time to leave for school.

  “Remember, my dear, that Lincoln lost more elections than he won but still became President.”

  “Yes, but I’d like to start out with a win,” said Florentyna.

  The assembly hall was packed by nine o’clock. Morning prayers and the headmaster’s announcements seemed to take forever; Florentyna’s eyes stared down at the floor.

  “And now I shall read the results of the Student Council election,” said the headmaster. “There were fifteen candidates and six have been elected to the Council.

  The headmaster coughed and the room remained silent. “Sixth, Florentyna Rosnovski with seventy-six votes. The runner-up was Pete Welling with seventy-five votes. The first Council meeting will be in my office at ten-thirty this morning. Assembly dismissed.”

  Florentyna was overwhelmed and threw her arms around Edward.

  At the first Council meeting that morning, Florentyna, as junior member, was appointed secretary.

  “That will teach you to come in last,” laughed the new president, Jason Morton.

  Back to writing notes that nobody else reads, thought Florentyna. But at least this time I can type them and perhaps next year I will be president. She looked up at the boy whose thin, sensitive face and seemingly shy manner had won him so many votes.

  “Now, privileges,” said Jason briskly, unaware of her gaze. “The president is allowed to drive a car to school, while on one day a week the girls can wear pastel-colored shirts and the boys can wear loafers instead of oxfords. Council members are allowed to sign out of study hall when involved in school responsibilities and they can award demerits to any pupil who breaks a school rule.”

  So that’s what I fought so hard for, thought Florentyna, the chance to wear a pastel-colored shirt and award demerits.

  When she returned home that night, Florentyna told Miss Tredgold every detail of what had happened and she glowed with pride as she repeated the full result along with her new responsibilities.

  “Who is poor Pete Welling,” inquired Miss Tredgold, “who failed to be elected by only one vote?”

  “Serves him right,” said Florentyna. “Do you know what I said to that creep when I passed him in the corridor?”

  “No, I’m sure I don’t,” said Miss Tredgold apprehensively.

  “‘Now you’ll have to get in line, but your time will come,’” she said, and burst out laughing.

  “That was unworthy of you, Florentyna, and indeed of me. Be sure you never in your life express such an opinion again. The hour of triumph is not a time to belittle your rivals. Rather, it is a time to be magnanimous.”

  Miss Tredgold rose from her seat and retired to her room.

  When Florentyna went to lunch the next day, Jason Morton took the seat next to her. “We’re going to see a lot of each other now that you’re on the Council,” he said, and smiled. Florentyna didn’t smile back, because Jason had the same reputation among the pupils of Girls Latin as Pete Welling and she was determined not to make a fool of herself a second time.

  Over lunch, they discussed the problem of the school orchestra’s trip to Boston and what to do about the number of boys who had been caught smoking. Student councillors were limited in the punishments they were allowed to impose, and study hall detention on Saturday morning was about the most extreme terror they could evoke. Jason told Florentyna that if they went so far as to report the smokers to the headmaster, it would undoubtedly mean expulsion for the students involved. A dilemma had arisen among the councillors because no one feared the Saturday detention, and equally, no one believed anyone ever would be reported to the headmaster.

  “If we allow the smoking to go on,” said Jason, “very soon we’ll have no authority at all unless we’re determined to make a positive stand in full Council right from the beginning.”

  Florentyna agreed with him and was surprised by his next question.

  “Would you be up for a game of tennis on Saturday afternoon?”

  Florentyna remained silent for a moment. “Yes,” she said, trying to sound casual as she remembered that he was captain of the tennis team and her backhand was awful.

  “Good, I’ll pick you up at three o’clock. Will that be okay?”

  “Fine,” said Florentyna, hoping she still sounded offhand.

  “That tennis dress is far too short,” said Miss Tredgold.

  “I know,” said Florentyna, “but it’s last year’s, and I’ve grown since then.”

  “With whom are you playing?”

  “Jason Morton.”

  “You really cannot play tennis in a dress like that with a young man.”

  “It’s either this or the nude,” said Florentyna.

  “Don’t be cheeky with me, child. I shall allow you to wear the garment on this occasion, but be assured I shall have acquired a new dress for you by Monday afternoon.”

  The front doorbell rang. “He seems to have arrived,” said Miss Tredgold.

  Florentyna picked up her racket and ran toward the door.

  “Don’t run, child. Let the young man wait a little. We can’t have him knowing how you feel about him, can we?”

  Florentyna blushed, tied back her long dark hair with a ribbon and walked slowly to the front door.

  “Hi, Jason,” she said, her voice casual again. “Won’t you come in?”

  Jason, who was dressed in a smart tennis outfit that looked as if it had been bought that morning, couldn’t take his eyes off Florentyna. “What a dress,” he ventured, and was about to say more when he saw Miss Tredgold leaving the room. He hadn’t realized until that moment what a good figure Florentyna had. The moment he set eyes on Miss Tredgold he knew why he had never been allowed to find out.

  “It’s last year’s, I’m afraid,” said Florentyna, looking down at her slim legs. “It’s awful, isn’t it?”

  “No, I think it’s swell. Come on, I’ve reserved a court for three-thirty and someone else will grab it if we’re a minute late.”

  “Good heavens,” said Florentyna as she closed the front door. “Is that yours?”

  “Yes. Don’t you think it’s fantastic?”

  “I would say, if asked to venture an opinion, that it had seen better days.”

  “Oh, really?” said Jason. “I thought it was rather snazzy.”