School was never any fun. At least to Evelyn Alice Byrd. She ruffles her loose-hanging skirt; silky red fabric embroidered with beautiful white stitches. She feels her corset tighten around her; a rich crimson with fluffy white lace decorating the strings and edges. Her mind wanders back to her dearest father, how in such a frenzy he had arrived earlier, and the panic he revealed as he shut the door ever so quickly. Evelyn had tried to listen, but what hushed voices they were speaking in could only predict such secrecy and misfortune. Has something terrible arisen? Lately, they had been selling off their furnishings and expenses in order to gain more money. Mother and Father have been tired and ever-so-worried, frantically vending away anything possible. “Mother? Is there something amiss?” “My dear, it is nothing of your concern. Just a little… obstacle, as one would put it.” She brushed it off; not queer—Mother nor Father never paid much attention to her ever since she was born. They had been selling their expensive clothes and furnishes frantically, and have even started packing for something unknown to Evelyn. A vague glimpse of a memory flitters through her mind, the necessity of frantically selling on the street markets. How long ago was that? Oh yes, a few weeks ago when her mother had taken her out to shop for some more sewing supplies. “Miss Byrd?” a voice snaps her out of her thoughts, laced with nastiness. It was quite a queer one, a mix between weasely and snotty. “Miss Evelyn Byrd!” “I’m very sorry, Missus Cavendish.” She bows apologetically. “Would you do one the favour of repeating oneself for another?” “Wretched child,” she snarls in her nasally voice. “You never listen. See yourself outside.” Evelyn nods and must resist skipping out, for that would be improper, unprofessional, and unladylike. Being at home with Mother and Father would be exceedingly of a greater account more entertaining rather than sitting here for an undue measure of time-wasting, in her personal opinion. A Sorrowful Tale of 1929 by Grace Magaro ’32 51
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