April 20
Dear Daddy Longlegs,
Sometimes I worry that I'm not a genius.
This usually happens right after I've read a good book.
Will you be disappointed if I don't become a great author?
In the spring everything is so green and beautiful.
I feel like turning my back on school and playing outside.
It's much more fun to live life than to write about it. I feel—
"Eek!" This letter has been interrupted by someone screaming—me!
Sallie immediately banged on my door. "Are you all right?"
"What's going on?" Julia cried.
"Why are you screaming?"
I opened my door and pointed to a centipede on my chair.
"That's why! It fell from the ceiling and landed next to me!"
Julia took a quick look and shuddered. "Ugh."
Then she went back to her room.
Thank goodness for Sallie, who stayed to help me.
She looked around my room and then grabbed my hairbrush. "Stand back!"
Sallie whacked the centipede with the back of the brush.
(I'll never be able to use that brush again!)
She killed the bug's front end, but its rear fifty feet ran under a chest of drawers.
"It escaped!" Sallie sounded disappointed that we hadn't caught it.
"This dorm is so old and full of centipedes."
"You did your best."
I picked up my cup, which I'd dropped in my rush to escape.
"I hate centipedes!
They're disgusting creatures.
I'd rather find a tiger under my bed!"
The centipede was only one of the annoying things that happened today.
I woke up late because I didn't hear the morning bell.
I broke a shoelace while getting dressed.
I was late for breakfast and my first class.
Then in math class, I had a little argument with the professor.
"I don't understand why my answer is wrong," I said.
"Because you've worked the problem incorrectly," she said.
"But this is how the textbook said to do it!"
I insisted that I was right.
"Look it up again," she said.
"Now, class, let's move on to the next problem."
When I looked in my textbook, I saw she was right. Of course.
On and on went the annoying things.
For lunch we had gray stew.
It reminded me of orphanage food.
In English the professor gave us an impossible poem to analyze.
No one knew what to write.
So we sat there in silence for 45 minutes.
Then it rained, and we couldn't play golf in gym class.
When I got home, my new spring dress had arrived.
But it was so tight that I couldn't sit down.
Oh, and the maid had cleaned my room while I was at classes.
She mixed up all my papers!
Supper was as delicious as lunch.
In other words, more orphanage food.
I was finally sitting down to read when someone knocked on my door.
It was a girl from Latin class.
"May I ask a quick question about the homework?" she said.
She stayed for an hour, talking about the most boring things.
After she left, I decided to write to you.
And that's when the centipede arrived.
So I've had a bad day.
Anybody can face a crisis.
But I think it's harder to deal with life's little annoyances.
That requires spirit.
From now on, I'll try to be that kind of person.
You'll never hear me complain about Julia wearing silk stockings.
Or centipedes dropping in while I'm writing a letter.
Yours truly,
Judy
May 5
Dear Daddy Longlegs,
I just received a most disturbing letter from Mrs. Lippett.
She hopes I am behaving myself and doing well in my studies.
(That's not the disturbing part.)
She wants me to return to the orphanage this summer and work there.
(That's the disturbing part.)
I can imagine what happened at this month's meeting of the trustees and ladies' committee.
Mrs. Lippett stood up and said, "Thank you all for coming today.
We must discuss Jerusha Abbott's future."
Then one of the trustees (maybe you?) said, "I thought that was settled.
She's studying to be a writer."
Mrs. Lippett looked very respectful.
"Yes, we did settle that part of her future, sir.
But I'm talking about this summer.
I assume she has no place to go.
She is, of course, an orphan."
Several of the ladies nodded in agreement.
"So I respectfully suggest that Jerusha be allowed to return here," Mrs. Lippett went on.
"There's plenty of work for her to do."
Did anyone speak up to defend me?
Did anyone ask what I thought of this idea?
Obviously not.
So I'll tell you what I think of Mrs. Lippett's proposal.
I HATE THE JOHN GRIER HOME.
I would rather die than go back there!
Even for just a summer.
Yours most truthfully,
Jerusha Abbott