Carrie Chapter Ten

She put the dress on for the frontmost cadence on the morning of May 27, in her room. She had bought a extra brassiere to go with it, which gave her breasts the proper up heaving ( non that they actu all in ally needed it) further left their top halves uncovered. Wearing it gave her a weird, dreamy feeling that was bingle-half shame and half defiant excitement.The dress itself was nearly floor-length. The skirt was loose, plainly the waist was snug, the material rich and unfamiliar against her skin, which was used only to cotton plant and wool.The hang of it distinguishmed to be mature or would be, with the new shoes. She slipped them on, ad fulled the neckline, and went to the window. She could see only a maddening ghost image of herself, alone everything seemed to be right. Maybe later she couldThe entrance swung blossom behind her with only a soft snick of the latch, and Carrie turned to look at her dumbfound.She was dressed for work, clothing her white sweater and holding her black pocketbook in one hand. In the early(a) she was holding Daddy Ralphs Bible.They looked at each other. only conscious of it, Carrie felt her game straighten until she stood straight in the magic spell of early spring sunshine that fell by the window.Red, Momma murmured. I force oblige distinguishn it would be red.Carrie verbalize nothing.I sack up see your dirtypillows. allone will. Theyll be looking at your body. The Book says-Those are my breasts, Momma. Every woman has them.Take of that dress, Momma give tongue to.No.Take it of, Carrie. Well go down and flash it in the incinerator together, and past pray for forgiveness. Well do penance. Her eyes began to sparkle with the unusual disconnected zeal that came over her at events which she considered to be tests of faith. Ill stay basis from work and youll stay alkali from prepare. Well pray. Well ask for a sign. Well get us down on our knees and ask for the Pentecostal Fire.No, Momma.Her mother re ached up and in straitened circumstances(p) her own face. It left a red mark. She looked to Carrie for reaction, saw none, hooked her right hand into claws and ripped it crossways her own cheek, bringing thin blood. She whined and rocked back on her heels. Her eyes glowed with exultation.Stop hurting yourself, Momma. Thats not going to shed me degree either.Momma screamed. She make her right hand a fist and smitten herself in the m push throughh, bringing blood. She dabbled her fingers in it, looked at it dreamily, and daubed a office staff on the cover of the Bible.Washed in the Blood of the Lamb, she whispered. many an(prenominal) times. Many times he and-Go away, Momma.She looked up at Carrie, her eyes glowing. in that location was a terrifying expression of righteous anger graven on her face.The Lord is not mocked, she whispered. Be sure your sin will make you out. Burn it, Carrie Cast that devils red from you and burn it Burn it Burn itThe door slammed open by itself.Go away, Momma.Momma smiled. Her bloody mouth make the smile grotesque, twisted. As Jezebel fell from the tower, let it be with you, she said. And the dogs came and licked up the blood. Its in the Bible Its-Her feet began to slip along the floor and she looked down at them, bewildered. The wood might have turned to ice.Stop that She screamed.She was in the star sign at present. She caught the doorjamb and held on for a moment then her fingers were torn loose, patently by nothing.I love you, Momma, Carrie said steadily. Im sorry.She envisioned the door vacillation shut, and the door did just that, as if moved by a neat breeze. Carefully, so as not to hurt her, she disengaged the mental hands she had pushed her mother with.A moment later, Margaret was pounding on the door. Carrie held it shut, her lips trembling.Theres going to be a judgment Margaret White raved. I wash my hands of it I time-testedPilate said that, Carrie murmured.Her mother went away. A minute later Carrie saw he r go down the walk and cross the street on her way to work.Momma, she said softly, and put her forehead on the glass.From The Shadow change integrity (p. 129)Before spell to a more detailed analysis of Prom Night itself, it might be well to sum up what we chicane of Carrie White the person.We know that Carrie was the victim of her mothers religious mania. We know that she possessed a latent telekinetic talent, usually referred to as TK. We know that this led wild talent is really a genetical trait, produced by a gene that is usually recessive, if present at all. We venture that the TK ability may be glandular in nature. We know that Carrie produced at least one demonstration of her ability as a humble girl when she was put into an extreme situation of guilt and stress. We know that a second extreme situation of guilt and stress arose from a shower-room hazing incident. It has been theorized (especially by W.G. Throneberry and Julia Givens, Berkeley) that resurgence of the TK ability at this read/write head was caused by both psychological factors (i.e. the reaction of the other girls and Carrie herself to their commencement menstrual period) and physiological factors (i.e., the advent of puberty).And finally, we know that on Prom Night, a third sum situation arose, do the terrible events which we now must begin to discuss. We will begin with (i am not nervous not a bit nervous)Tommy had called earlier with her corsage, and now she was pinning it to the shoulder of her gown herself. There was no momma, of railway line, to do it for her and make sure it was in the right place, Momma had locked herself in the chapel and had been in on that point for the locomote two hours, praying hysterically. Her voice rose and fen in frightening, incoherent cycles.(Im sorry momma but I cant be sorry)When she had it immovable to her satisfaction, she dropped her hands and stood quietly for a moment with her eyes closed.There was no full-length mirror in the house. (vanity vanity all is vanity)but she scene she was all. right. She had to be. She-She opened her eyes again. The Black Forest cuckoo clock, bought with Green Stamps, said seven-ten.(hell be here in twenty minutes)Would he?Maybe it was all just an elaborate joke, the final crusher, the ultimate punch line. To leave her posing here half the night in her crushed-velvet prom gown with its princess waistline, juliet sleeves and simple-minded straight skirt and her tea roses pinned to her left shoulder.From the other room, on the stick out now . . . in hallowed earth We know thou bringst the mall That Watcheth, the hideous three-lobbed eye, and the sound of black trumpets. We most heartily repent-Carrie did not reckon anyone could understand the brute courage it had taken to reconcile herself to this, to leave herself open to whatever fear some(prenominal) possibilities the night might realize. Being stood up could scantily be the worst of them. In fact, in a kind of sneaking, des irous way she thought it might be for the best if(no stop that)Of course it would be easier to stay here with Momma. Safer. She knew what They thought of Momma. Well, maybe Momma was a fanatic, a freak, but at least she was predictable, the house was predictable. She never came home to laughing, shrieking girls who threw things.And if he didnt come, if she drew back and gave up? High shoal would be over in a month. Then what? A creeping. later(a) existence in this house, supported by Momma, watching game shows and slash operas all day on television at Mrs Garrisons house when she had Carrie In To Visit (Mrs Garrison was eighty-six), walking down to the Centre to get a malted after supper at the Kelly Fruit when it was deserted, getting fatter, losing hope, losing even the position to think?No. Oh dear God, please no.(please let it be a happy ending)-protect us from he with the split foot who waits in the alleys and in the parking lots of roadhouses, O Saviour-Seven twenty-five.R estlessly, without thinking she began to lift objects with her mind and put them back down, the way a nervous woman awaiting someone in a restaurant will fold and adulterate her napkin. She could dangle half a dozen objects in air at one time, and not a sign of tiredness or headache. She unploughed waiting for the power to abate, but it remained at high-pitched water with no sign of waning. The other night on her way home from school, she had turn over a parked car(oh please god let it not be a joke)twenty feet down the main street temper with no strain at all. The courthouse idlers had stared at it as if their eyes would pouch out, and of course she stared too, but she was smiling inside.The cuckoo popped out of the clock and communicate once. Seven-thirty.She had grown a little wary of the howling(a) strain employ the power seemed to put on her heart and lungs and internal thermostat. she suspected it would be all too possible for her heart to literally burst with the str ain. It was similar being in anothers body and forcing her to run and run and run. You would not wages the cost yourself the other body would. She was beginning to realize that her power was perchance not so different from the powers of Indian fakirs, who stroll across importunate coals, run needles into their eyes, or blithely bury themselves for periods up to six weeks. creative thinker over matter in any form is a terrific drain on the bodys resources.Seven thirty-two.(hes not glide path)(dont think well-nigh it a watched pot doesnt boil hell Come)(no he wont hes out laughing at you with his friends and after a little bit theyll drive by in one of their fast noisy cars laughing and hooting and yelling)Miserably, she began lifting the sewing machine up and down, swinging it in outfit arcs throught the air.-and protect us also from contumacious daughters imbued with the willfulness of the Wicked One-Shut up Carrie screamed suddenly.There was startled shut up for a moment, and then the babbling chant began again.Seven thirty-three.Not coming(then ill wreck the house)The thought came to her naturally and cleanly. First the sewing machine, driven through the living room wall. The couch through a window. Tables, chairs, books and tracts all flying, the plumbing system ripped loose and still spurting, like arteries ripped free of flesh. The roof itself, if that were within her power, herpes zoster exploding upward into the night like startled pigeonsLights splashed gaudily across the window.Other cars had gone by, making her heart leap a little, but this one was going much more slowly.(O)She ran to the window, unable to restrain herself, and it was him, Tommy, just climbing out of his car, and even under the street light he was handsome and alive and almost crackling. The odd word made her privation to giggle.Momma had stopped praying.She grabbed her fight silken wrap from where it had lain across the back of her chair and put it around her bare shoul ders. She bit her lip, touched her hair, and would have sold her soul for a mirror. The boiler in the hall made its harsh cry.She made herself wait, controlling the twitch in her hands, for the second buzz Then she went slowly, with silken swish.She opened the door and he was there, nearly eye-popping in white dinner jacket and dark dress pants.They looked at each other, and neither said a word.She felt that her heart would attain if he uttered so much as the wrong sound, and if he laughed she would die. She felt -actually, physically-her whole miserable life narrow to a point that might be an end or the beginning of a widening beam.Finally, helpless, she said Do you like me?He said Youre beautiful.She was.From The Shadow Exploded (p. 131)While those going to the Ewen Spring Ball were gathering at the high school or just leaving pre-Prom buffets, Christine Hargensen and William Nolan had met in a room above a local town-limits tavern called The Cavalier. We know that they had bee n meeting there for some time that is in the records of the White Commission. What we dont know is whether their plans were complete and irrevocable or if they went ahead almost on whim Is it time still? She asked him in the darkness.He looked at his watch. No.Faintly, through the board floor, came the thump of the role p limiter playing Shes Got To Be a Saint, by Ray Price. The Cavalier, Chris reflected, hadnt changed their records since the first time shed been there with a forged ID two years ago. Of course then shed been down in the taprooms, not on one of Sam, Deveauxs specials.Billys cigarette winked fitfully in the dark, like the eye of an uneasy demon. She watched it introspectively. She hadnt let him sleep with her until last Monday, when he had promised that he and his greaser friends would help her pull the string on Carrie White if she actually dared to go to the Prom with Tommy Ross. But they had been here before, and had had some pretty hot necking going on what sh e thought of as Scotch love and what he would call, in his unfailing ability to collar the vulgar the dry humps.She had meant to make him wait until he had actually do something,(but of course he did he got the blood)but it had all begun to slip out of her hands, and it made heir uneasy. If she had not given in willingly on Monday, he would have taken her, by force.Billy had not been her first lover, but he was the first she could not dance and dandle at her whim. Before him her boys had been clever marionettes with clear, pimple-free faces and parents with connections and country-club memberships. They drove their own VWs or Javelins or dishearten Chargers. They went to UMass or Boston College. They wore fraternity windbreakers in the fall and muscle-shirts with bright banding in the summer. They smoked marijuana a great deal and talked about the funny things that handed to them when they were wrecked. They began by treating her with patronizing good fellowship (all high scho ol girls, no matter how good-looking, were Bush League) and always ended up trotting after her with panting, doglike lust. If they trotted long enough and spent enough in the do she usually let them go to bed with her. Quite often she lay passively beneath them, not helping or hindering, until it was over. Later, she achieved her own alone(p) climax while viewing the incident as a unity closed loop of memory.She had met Billy Nolan following a drug stone-broke at a Cambridge apartment. Four students, including Chriss date for the evening had been busted for possession. Chris and the other girls were charged with being present there. Her father took care of it with quiet efficiency, and asked her if she knew what would happen to his image and his practice if his daughter was taken up on a drug charge. She told him that she doubted if anything could hurt either one, and he took her car away.