Odd Girl Read Online Free

that it is spring. Spring was the time for moving and shaking dust out of old corners. Tomorrow she would look for a job and an apartment; tonight, she would leave home, suddenly.
    It had to be a sudden move, so sudden that her parents would be too overcome with shock to try to stop her. Once she had escaped there would be time and opportunity to ease their feelings. With the coolness of thought that springs from unpleasant necessity, she laid out her plans. She would pack her belongings in light suitcases and paper bags and her treasures in a small trunk—her sketches, attempts at poetry, uncompleted books and plays, all her efforts at trying to find herself through self-expression. For three years they had collected in secret places, hidden from Dad's criticism and Mom's concern. Ever since the day Dad put his foot down:
    "You cannot go to Bennington."
    "But the scholarship—"
    "Scholarship. Another word for charity. No."
    He was difficult to speak to for he spoke in terms of an old-world culture and had no respect for American educational advantages, especially for women. "Your mother needs you here. You have enough to learn here about becoming a wife."
    Now Anne unlocked the front door. Portia the cat greeted her with a meow and Anne bent to pet her. The soft fur felt good in her hands and she felt the strain in them ease slightly. No one was home. They went to movies on Sunday nights, and would be gone quite late. She hurried upstairs to pack.
    For three years she had worked and saved money and to escape home she had taken night classes with the Circle Players where she had met Mark—and Beth. Her bank account held nearly a thousand now and she felt secure enough to leave. She had never had a problem finding good jobs, and apartments could be found somewhere. There remained only for her to take her belongings. She could not wait another day. It had to be done now.
    There were many things that would not fit in bags— her books and childhood keepsakes. But they would be safe until she could come back for them. She would take the essential things. The rest if need be she could replenish from scratch. But she had to leave now—secretly, or she would be stopped. Particularly after having been out all night. She could never explain why to them so that they would understand.
    When everything was packed she brought the bag down and called a cab that would drive into the city. Then she began to write a note: "Dear folks, I guess I've run away from home." She paused. It sounded childish. How could she explain about Beth or Mark, about not wanting to marry and have children? She could not even reason out her revulsion at the parades of young men to whom she had been subjected at Saturday night gatherings. All these things seemed such strange motives for leaving home, for wanting to be left alone to face a world full of no other places to hide.
    She tore up the note. It would be better to call them and assure them by telephone that she was safe and well and then to arrange a meeting with them in some public place where she could try to explain to them that she had grown up.
    Her cab arrived and with the help of the driver they loaded it with her things. Only Portia remained to meow goodbye. Anne paused, cursing mildly under her breath, and took the cat in her arms. "Come along, I can't leave you," she said.

CHAPTER 2
    Three weeks had passed and the decorating was nearly done. Anne and Portia found themselves alone, sitting by the telephone with its unlisted number, waiting for it to ring. She had found a perfect place—a year's sublet with adequate furniture, and convenient to The Florentin and the Players. Now she was ready for guests, but no one knew where she lived or how to contact her. Whom should she call first?
    She thought of Beth and then rejected the idea with great effort. There was Mark—but seeing him might be too great a strain just now. What a pity they could not just be friends.
    It was not that she had felt