Mary was about an uninspired person as there was. Mary likes to lay in bed and look at old catalogs. Mary circled her favorites. The pages were worn and falling out. Mary worked hard taping as much as she could together. Mary’s mama pitched a fit one day for using her tape. Who do you think we are, J. Paul Getty? Mary had learned how to swipe some from Miss Sheridan’s desk. Put the sticky parts together so she could take them apart and use them later.
Mary hated school and considered it a waste of good time. Who needed education for that? Mary decided to work in a department store when she was old enough.
Mrs. Graven always threatened to take the catalogs from Mary’s room if she did not do her chores. Mary had hiding spots her mother wouldn’t find. The toy section was the best. Mary had already memorized all the shades of blue the dolls’ dresses came in. But, first, she had to get the stunning beauty from the magazine. The depression-era was tough on families. Children who one year had everything now barely had two meals a day. It would be the toyless generation—a generation of hopes and dreams now dashed on the rigid rocks of reality.
Mary’s dad was fortunate to have automobile repair skills. Most family heads were not as lucky. Mr. Graven asked for little from his family except for obedience and respect. Without those two things, a man does not rule his castle, no matter how big or small a domain.
Mrs. Graven would often ask Mary questions about her schoolmates. Sometimes Mary would make stuff up just to shut her mom up. She told her mom that Bettie’s dad had come to the school and yelled at Miss Sheridan. Mary never made up crazy stuff after that because later, Mary overheard her mother calling other mothers gossiping about it. Why couldn’t she have a non-snoopy mother like Jeans? Jean had told Mary her mother never asked her anything. She had said to her that her parents spent all their time-fighting. If That were true, maybe she would volunteer that to her mother sometime.
Mary would say anything to get her sniffing in a different direction. Mary took out her catalog; what could she look at today. Maybe dollhouses. A girl could wish. Mary pulled out a Prince Albert’s can from under her bed and recounted her 53 pennies, some of which she had taken from her mother’s purse.
Mary was not worried about her mother, but she was sure she never wanted her dad to know. He would tear her behind to pieces.
Tomorrow was the last day of school for the week. Mary had cut out some pictures from her catalog and tucked them into a book she was reading. Mary could sneak them out and look at them while Miss Sheridan practiced spelling bee words with stinky old Jimmy. He mooned over Miss Sheridan like a sick cow. He was pathetic.
Mary’s mother yelled out for her to get to bed. You only have one more day. You can stay up Thursday night after school.
Mary had already planned to do just that. Mary needed to swipe some more tape from Miss Sheridans’ desk tomorrow. Mary drifted off to sleep, thinking of how to do it.
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