I was in the Registrar’s office Monday, not to see Georgia, though I couldn’t avoid her, but because I am a freshman reporter for the Campus Crier. One of my chores is — getting up the “Happy Birthday” column. I thumbed through the files, noting dates from the coming Friday through the following Thursday. Gabrielle’s name turned up for Friday and I decided to send her a birthday card, via the bulletin board, so for once she would have real mail. Next I listed Bun Peterson’s name; her birthday was the same as Gabrielle’s. Bun is president of the Student Council and head cheerleader and honorary football captain; it seemed a shame she had to have Gabrielle’s birthday as well. I decided ~to get Gabrielle a really nice card, with a hanky.
As I finished Georgia picked up my list and said, “Who’s getting senile?~
I said, “You are,” and took it back.
She said, “Don’t get too big for your beanie, freshman.” She went on, “Going to the party for Bun Peterson?” — then added, “Oh, I forgot-it’s upper classmen only.”
– I looked her in the eye. “A double choc malt against a used candy bar you aren’t either!”
She didn’t answer and I swaggered out.
It was a busy week. Junior sprained his arm, Mother was away two days and I kept house, the cat had to be wormed, and I typed a term paper for Cliff. I didn’t think about Gabrielle until late Friday when I stopped by the board on the chance that there might be a note from Cliff. There wasn’t, but there was another of Gabnelle’s notes, in an envelope with her name typed. I realized with a shock that I had forgotten her birthday card.
I was wondering whether to get one and let her find it Monday, when I heard a pssst! It was Georgia Lammers, motioning me to come to the office. Curiosity got me; I went. She pulled me inside; there was no one else in the outer office. “Keep back,” — she whispered. “If she sees anyone, she may not stop. She’s due now-it’s after five.”
I shook her off. “Who?”
“Gabrielle, of course. Shut up!”
“Huh?” I said. “She’s already been there. Her ‘note’ for Monday is up.”
“A lot you know! Hush!” She crowded me into the corner, then peeked out. —
“Quit shoving!” I said and looked out.
Gabrielle was pinning something up, her back to us. She saw the envelope with her name, took it down, and hurried away. —
I turned to Georgia. “If you’ve monkeyed with one of her notes, I will go to the Dean.”
“Go ahead-see how far it gets you.”
“Did you touch that note?”
“Sure I did-I wrote it. What’s wrong with that?” She had me; anybody can send anyone a note. “Well, what did you say?”
“What business is it of yours? Still,” she went on, “I’ll tell you. It’s too good to keep.” She dug a paper out of her purse. It was a typewritten rough draft, full of x-outs and inserts; it read:
Dear Gabrielle,
Today is Bun Peterson’s birthday-and we are giving her the finest surprise party this school has ever seen. We would like to invite everybody, but we can’t-and you have been picked as one of the girls to represent the freshman class. We are gathering in groups and will descend on her in a body. Your group will meet at seven o’clock in the
Snack Shoppe. Put on your best bib and
tucker-and don’t breathe a word to anyone!
The Committee
“It’s a shabby trick,” I said, “to invite her to another girl’s party on her own birthday. You knew it was her birthday.”
“What of it?”
“It’s mean-but just like you. How did you get them to invite her? You aren’t on the committee-are you?”
She stared, then laughed. “She’s not invited to anything.”
“Huh? You mean there’s no party? But there is.,, “Oh, sure, there’s a party for Bun Peterson. But that little snip won’t be there. That’s the joke.”
It finally sank in. Gabrielle would go to the Snack Shoppe and wait-and wait-and wait-while the party she thought she had been invited to went on without her. “That strikes you as funny?” I said.