When Mary Katherine Cooper was twenty years old, she looked like she was fourteen. It was quite a shock to some of her professors. When she graduated two years later, even the cap and gown hadn’t given her the mature, accomplished look she had hoped for.
She stood at the dresser and flipped the pages of her high school yearbook. High school. Those had been the days!
As a freshman, she had looked about ten. It was only in retrospect that she appreciated not having to deal with her womanly cycles until after junior high and freshman phys ed. That silver lining was too late realized to be of much consolation in the face of persistent peer scrutiny.
At least she had reaped the benefit of her mother’s insistent push through ballet, gymnastics, and tap classes. Even as a freshman, she had made the varsity cheerleading squad, and was for four years the undisputed owner of the top of the pyramid. She was also the favored projectile of the male cheerleaders who competed among themselves to see who could hurl her highest.
Her position on the cheerleading squad was her primary claim to any social position in the school. Mary Katherine presumed that it was more being a cheerleader than anything that had allowed her to be picked as Chess Club Queen–picked over Anna Green, the only other girl in chess club.
Otherwise, throughout high school, Mary Katherine had been rather far down the list of popularity. She dated very little–none at all until her junior year. That year, she had her first date. She attended the Junior/Senior Banquet (juniors and seniors ONLY) with Brad Flanagan, a junior friend in chemistry class that dated a sophomore who was ineligible to attend. Her senior year, however, she had a steady boyfriend for a little while. Kevin Douglas was a junior whose parents wouldn’t allow him to drive, and Mary Katherine was satisfied with the relationship, even though she was certain it was her convertible to which Kevin was most attracted. They dated through second and third quarters, then broke up. Two days after Kevin got his own license.
High school had been tough, no doubt about it. Mary Katherine closed her yearbook and looked across the room.
Not a bad hotel, she concluded as she turned back to the mirror. She passed the brush once more through her hair, then glanced again at the yearbook.
When Mary Katherine Cooper graduated from high school, she was eighteen, but looked about twelve. But she didn’t care any more. In fact, she was deeply satisfied. Things change, time passes, and twenty-fifth high school reunions come around, whether you want them to or not.
And sometimes, things just work themselves out. She was forty-three, but Kate Cooper looked like she was twenty-five.
Bill Snodgrass is a professor at VISIBLE SCHOOL College of Music and Worship Arts, the President and Executive Director of Double-Edged Publishing, Inc, a graduate student at Memphis Theological Seminary, and he sometimes finds time to write what he wants to write. Bill’s wife is his biggest supporter and his two sons are his greatest fans. That makes him very happy.
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12 Responses to “LATE BLOOMER • by Bill Snodgrass”
Comments
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December 20th, 2008 at 2:47 am
Oh, Bill, that was sweet! Not a false note in there anywhere. I gave you and Mary Katherine a ten — even though it looks like a five.
December 20th, 2008 at 4:09 am
Very nice, start to finish.
December 20th, 2008 at 5:07 am
The end was predictable; but enjoyable story nonetheless.
December 20th, 2008 at 5:07 am
Very clever! A woman who, as a teenager, accepted & was distressed by a very superficial value system now perceives that she “benefits” from the same superficial value system!
It’s quite possible that the delayed puberty was a result of all the vigorous physical activity & the probably limited diet she had due to the size requirements for the gymnastics & dance.
One wonders if she ever grew up.
December 20th, 2008 at 6:49 am
As someone who looks young for her age and is finally lerning to appreciate it, I enjoyed this immensely!
December 20th, 2008 at 9:27 am
ah, the high school reunion revenge, sweet bliss for the “outties”
–dj
December 20th, 2008 at 10:17 am
I want to be MARY. That was lovely. Really enjoyable read, thanks.
December 20th, 2008 at 11:00 am
Very nice, Bill.
December 20th, 2008 at 11:21 pm
Cool story, Bill. I’m sort of the male version of that story, though I doubt I would look 25, but cut off the beard and I would be years younger looking.
December 21st, 2008 at 5:17 pm
I dig it. I agree with R. L. Copple about identifying with it as a male counterpart. One day I might actually be older than my students!
December 22nd, 2008 at 5:49 am
Great to see you writing / publishing, Bill! You need to announce this in the usual places!
Bill, you’ve struck a nerve with this sweet little ditty. I was a late bloomer, as well, suffering through High School as the shortest kid in my class, a geek at a time when jocks were popular. Now, I’m celebrating 23 years of marriage to the gal I met when I was 20 and married at 21, and without the beard, I /am/ younger looking!
December 24th, 2008 at 3:34 am
Cute. I love that Mary is going to get the retribution she deserves, and yet in such a gentle way.
A little odd to me that someone on the cheerleading squad could be considered unpopular — in my high school, that was a ticket to all kinds of popularity — but I’m sure different schools do things differently.