CHAPTER VIII
MIMI GETS A BID
Mimi blotted the page and closed her diary quickly at the first knock on the door of Tumble Inn. She felt her eyes with the back of her hand to be sure there was no trace of tears. Never any time or privacy to do anything, be homesick, or tell all your troubles to your diary.
The last few days since Mimi had been excused from gym because of her swollen nose, she had found time to get a few things done. She was up with all her notebooks; had clinched every word of her Spanish vocabulary, and today had written the following in her diary. (Mimi always considered her diary a person; a person to whom she told her secret joys and sorrows.)
Oh, Diary, there’s no one to tell but you how it hurts not to be forward on the basket ball team. If I wasn’t such a good player it wouldn’t be so bad but I am good. I can dodge and pivot and shoot. Yes, I know what I’ve resolved to do. I am going to spend every spare minute of my free time in the gym at goal practice as soon as they’ll let me. There’s always room for a crack shot on any team. I’ll be one.
Do you know what I’ve discovered? I must be kin to Pollyanna. I have found several consoling things about having a “busted snoot.” First place, I couldn’t wear an “S” if I had made the basket ball team; no Prep can. Those class numerals wouldn’t mean so much—I’d always be explaining them after I got home.
Betsy must like me, Diary Dear. That first night when I could not go to supper, she brought me her dessert (oh me! I shall probably die wondering if there is one “s” or two “sses” in dessert). Chloe has been sweet, too, but she acts so strange. Every time we are alone she acts like she wants to tell me something and can’t. There is something queer about her—Oh here comes somebody—No, it wasn’t; they passed by.
I don’t know why I don’t want any one to know I keep you, Diary, unless it’s because some one might try to find you and then I should die! It’s no fun to have you if I can’t tell you my very insidest thoughts. Sue is the only one who knows and she won’t tell. Here’s the most private thing I have to say today:
I am getting popular!
I know it. The Delphians and the Ruskins are both trying to get me to promise to join their society. I don’t know what to do. I’m so thrilled to be asked but the Ruskins want Sue and the Delphians want Chloe and Betsy is already a Ruskin. I hate to see our suite family split up. Maybe I won’t join either. They seem silly, in a way; the Ruskins bragging on themselves and slurring the Delphians and the Delphians slurring the Ruskins and bragging on themselves. But the pins are perfectly precious! Solid gold with tiny pearls.
There really is some one coming—