Getting Smart-e

by Terry Piper

At the end of Ozark Girl, Charlene Ridley had finished eighth grade and finished with life in the Ozarks, or so it seemed. We meet her again in Getting Smart, following her along the bumpy roads of life in the Ozark hills. We share with her those experiences — happy, confusing, painful— that continue to shape her life. We see her figuring out the new rules—her mother’s and those unwritten rules of high school life. Bobby Ray is back, as are Leitha, Jeannie, Fig, Jerry, and most of the Boogey Flats residents we met earlier. But there are also new people entering Charlene’s life, and they play an important role in helping her to "get smart."

ISBN 1-59431-600-7-e Fact-based fiction / biography

Cover Art by Maggie Dix.

Also available in RTF and HTML formats.

Walking toward the high school, Charlene was barely aware of the colorful canopy of overhanging elms and oaks, their leaves starting to show the colors of early fall. Moving her baton and talking her way through the most complicated of the routines, she was less nervous than she had expected to be. Sure, there were butterflies, and she knew her chances of landing a place among the twirlers was slim--she was, after all, only a Freshman and hadn't been twirling that long--but she had worked hard and had the routines down cold.

She pulled her sweater closer to ward off the early morning chill, reminding herself to take it off before beginning her routine. She had enough to worry about with the tricky footwork without being done in by a loose sleeve. The last thing she needed was for a wayward baton to bounce off Fig's head. Left, right, left, pivot, knee up, rock back, 1-2-3, 1-2-3, she rehearsed the foot movements in her head while moving her baton and arms through the corresponding motions. Listen to the drums, she reminded herself. And smile.

Trouble was, she didn't feel much like smiling. The summer had been horrible, the twirling lessons the only good thing that had happened. She wasn't sure why her mother had let her take or how she'd paid for them. Money was a problem for the family, always, but even more so after Momma had spent so much money to come and bring her home on the bus. Charley had argued, as she learned later, that if Charlene could get all the way to Santa Fe by herself, she could probably get home again by herself. But Momma wouldn't hear of it and had ridden that Trailways Bus over the same roads Charlene had just traveled only to turn around and go back again.

Charlene didn't like to think about that day. She'd been happy to see her mother, sure, but the pain in her mother's eyes was something she never wanted to see again. After she had assured herself that her daughter was unharmed, Momma hadn't yelled at her or even told her how disappointed she was in her, although her eyes had said as much. Instead, after profusely thanking the deputy sheriff's wife, who had taken Charlene into her home until Gracie arrived, she put her daughter back on the bus and started the trip home, back to Boogey Flats.

Momma had been gentle with her. "Why, Charlene? Can you just tell me what happened that was so bad that you thought you had to leave? Did somebody hurt you?"

"Hurt me? What do you mean?"

"Well, you know, did somebody…?" Gracie struggled to find the words. "Hurt you in some way? I don't mean with words," she added, "although that's important, too. Did someone touch you or force you to do something you didn't want to?"

"No, Momma. There wasn't anything like that."

"Well, that's a relief," Gracie said. "So why did you run away? It's just not like you."

It wasn't like her, that was true. She had been scared out of her wits even before she boarded the bus, while she was walking the five miles along the highway to get to the bus station in Monett. She'd been afraid to accept a ride, even from people she knew, because they would ask her questions that she didn't want to answer. Questions that maybe didn't have a good answer, she admitted to herself now.

Charlene pushed the memory to the back of her mind and tried to concentrate on today. It was September 10, 1960, and she had been in high school for four whole days, and if they were anything to go by, this could turn out to be a worse year than the one before.

It had started on the first day of school, the day after Labor Day, with a test. Mary Sauers, who, Charlene was certain, must be at least 85, had given them an algebra aptitude test. It had been a stupid test and she had totally misunderstood the question. Miss Sauers peered over Charlene's shoulder, then snatched up her paper and took it to her desk with all the others. "I never did think that girls had an aptitude for math," she said, "and this just proves it. Nancy Harmon and Mary Wilkes may stay in the class. There is some hope for them. But the rest of you girls may go. You will be taking general math along with your home economics and typing courses."

Home economics was required for girls, but Charlene had no plans to take typing. Also, if she were moved into general math, the schedule wouldn't allow her to stay in band, and that was non-negotiable. She raised her hand and explained the problem.

Mary Sauers removed her glasses, stared hard at her and said in her most imperious tone, "Perhaps I failed to make myself clear. You have no aptitude whatsoever for algebra. Whether or not you take typing is of no interest to me. Unless you want to depend on some husband all your life--if you can find one," she added, "then you'll do well to learn some skills while you are here. But that doesn't concern me. What does concern me is that you not bring down the caliber of this class. And now, please take your books and go down to the principal's office and get yourself rescheduled for general mathematics. Here," Miss Sauers said, as Charlene picked up her books. "This is the book you'll be needing. I'll take that algebra book." Charlene had paid for the algebra book, but she supposed it was a fair trade and handed over the book.

But she hadn't gone to change her schedule. Instead, she had gone and sat at the back of the study hall, waiting for the class to end and trying to come to grips with what had happened to her. Not that she was entirely surprised. School had always been so easy for her that she had often thought that it would end one day, that school would catch up with her abilities. After what had happened with Miss Sauers, she figured the time had come. She'd been found out! But why hadn't it happened to others? Had those boys who had barely made it through eighth grade arithmetic all turned into mathematical geniuses over the summer? Momma and Daddy wouldn't be pleased, she thought. Maybe she should just tell them that it was her idea to switch to general math and typing to learn some practical skills. Her father would approve of that, and her mother might not object either. Working in an office was a whole lot better than working in a hot factory ironing shirt pockets. Besides, she knew that she'd never have the money to go to college, not a good one anyway. It was probably a good decision.