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"Don't say such terrible things," I cried.
"You sound just like Mamma," Eugenia said, smiling. I had to admit that I did, and for the first time since I had come home from school, I smiled.
"Well, I can't help but sound like her, when you say dark and dreary things."
Eugenia shrugged.
"From what you're telling me, Lillian, it doesn't sound so dark and dreary not to have my first period," she replied, and I had to laugh.
Leave it to Eugenia, I thought, to help me forget my own pain.
At dinner that night Papa wanted to know why I didn't have much of an appetite and why I looked so pale and sickly. Mamma told him I had begun my woman's ways and he turned and looked at me in the strangest way. It was as if he were seeing me for the first time. His dark eyes narrowed.
"She's going to be as beautiful as Violet," Mamma said with a sigh.
"Yes," Papa agreed, surprising me, "she is."
I glanced across the table at Emily. Her face had turned crimson. Papa didn't think I brought curses and disasters to The Meadows, I thought happily.
Emily realized that too. She bit down hard on her lower lip.
"Can I choose the Bible passage tonight, Papa?" she asked.
"Of course, go on, Emily," he said, folding his large hands on the table. Emily gazed at me and opened the book.
" 'And the Lord said, Who told thee that thou wast naked? Hast thou eaten of the tree, whereof I commanded thee that thou shouldest not eat?
" 'And the man said,' " Emily continued, lifting her eyes toward me, " 'the woman whom thou gayest to be with me, she gave me of the tree and I did eat.—' "
She looked at the Bible again and quickly read how God would punish the serpent. Then, in a louder, clearer voice she read, " 'Unto the woman the Lord said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children . . .' "
She closed the book and sat back, a look of satisfaction on her fade. Neither Mamma nor Papa spoke for a moment. Then Papa cleared his throat.
"Yes, well . . . very good, Emily." He bowed his head. "We thank thee Lord for these gifts."
He started to eat vigorously, pausing occasionally to glance at me, adding just a little more of confusion to what had been the strangest and most confusing day of my life.
The changes in me that followed were a great deal more subtle. My bosom continued to sprout a little bit at a time until Mamma remarked one day that I had cleavage.
"That little dark space between our breasts," she told me in a whisper, "fascinates menfolk."
She went on to tell me about a female character in one of her books who deliberately sought out ways to reveal and make the most of it. She wore undergarments that would lift and squeeze her breasts, "making them bulge and their cleavages deepen." The very thought of such a thing made my heart pound.
"The men talked about her behind her back and called her a tease," Mamma said. "You have to be careful from now on, Lillian, that you don't do anything to lead men to believe you're anything like that sort. Those are loose women who never win the respect of a decent man."
Suddenly, things that seemed so ordinary and insignificant took on new meaning and danger, and Emily assumed a new responsibility, even though I was sure no one had asked her to do so. She as much as told me so on the way to school one morning.
"Now that you've had your time," she declared, "I'm sure you'll do something to bring shame to our family. I'll be watching you."
"I will not shame our family," I snapped back. Another subtle change that had come over me was a greater sense of self-confidence. It was as if a wave of maturity had passed over me and left me years older than I had been. Emily wasn't going to terrify me anymore, I thought. But she simply smiled in that self-assured, arrogant way.
"Yes you will," she predicted. "The evil that's in you will take form every way and every chance it gets." She spun around and walked on in her usual self-righteous manner.
Of course, I understood that I was under a new spotlight, my every move, my every word judged and evaluated. I had to be sure that each and every button on my blouse was fastened securely. If I stood too closely to a boy, Emily's eyes widened with interest and followed my every gesture. She was just waiting to pounce, to see an arm graze an arm, a shoulder touch, or, God forbid, my bosom brush against some part of a boy's body, even accidentally in passing. Hardly a day ended without her accusing me of flirting. In her eyes, I either smiled too much or turned my shoulders too suggestively.
"It's a simple, easy step for you to go from being a Jonah to a Jezebel," she declared.
"It is not," I retorted, not even sure wh
