November 22, 1963
That day when I got home from school, I wrote…
He is not gone, he is just away.

A DAY OF FORMIDABLE CHANGE
A Haibun by Stevie Strang

It was Friday morning, church day for the ninth and tenth graders, and we were on our way to Mass. Down the dreaded steps to the lower field, across the volleyball court and then up another steep set of stairs to the campus chapel. It was a weary trail of exercise just before lunch and too soon after the morning gym class.

We couldn’t wait to be Seniors! Then, we would be able to walk across the coveted ramp that ran beside the library windows on the second floor. The ramp was a straight walk from the classrooms to the chapel but was also a privilege, earned and reserved, only for the senior class.

Three months into the new school year and already two tenth graders were expelled for smoking marijuana in The Cave under the senior ramp. As we filed into the little European style chapel, Sr. Ursula stood at the foot

Sr. Ursula stood at the foot of the alter, arms sternly folded at her chest and hidden under the bib of her black habit, waiting to reprimand both classes and warn us of the perils of cannabis and mortal sin.

Gabby, Yvette and I sat on the ninth grader’s side, in the back pew next to the stained-glass window that had the most purple in it. The morning sun filtered through the windows on the east side of the chapel and beamed their brilliant colors over to us, making rainbow fairies on the wall just above Elaine Bronson’s ratted Bubble hairdo. Why we thought that was so funny, I don’t know, but we sat there and giggled about it until Elaine turned around and told us to shush. She was holier than we were, silently kneeling and praying for forgiveness before she would receive communion, so we followed her example and knelt down.

innocence
even the rainbow fairies
laughed

Pat Crumley came in late, as usual, and sat in the pew in front of us next to Elaine. She was detained in Sr. Leo’s office with a verbal warning about her skirt being too short…again. Sr. Leo did not know that Patricia was with the two tenth graders in The Cave under the ramp; Pat gave us a quick glance of relief as she knelt down in prayer. The first year at the Academy, a prestigious all-girl college prep school, was a challenge. If you were called into the office three times you were expelled, never to return. That was Patricia’s second offense.

It was almost eleven o’clock and Mass had not yet started. Sr. Ursula told us to read our prayer books or quietly say the rosary while she went to see what was delaying Father Booth. As soon as she was out the door both classes started accusing each other of snitching about the marijuana incident.

“You should be expelled too!” A tenth grader from the front pew stood up and pointed a finger towards Pat.

“Shut-up candy-ass or you’re gonna get pants’d during lunch.” Pat shouted back.

Shouts of blame echoed all the way up to the exposed antiquated wooden beams of the tiny chapel when Sr. Sheila, the principal, finally came in and slowly walked up to the podium.

“You’re a goner now, Pat,” Yvette whispered and then made the sign of the cross and sat back in the pew.

Sr. Ursula and Sr. Sheila scanned the chapel from front to back with solemn faces of disbelief, seemingly searching for someone to blame, someone to scream at. Gads, had we been that loud?

The chapel went completely silent.