A Burning
Thursday, December 9, 2004
Much had happened over the past three days. Perhaps the greatest piece of news was the blow Diana had received regarding Wheaton. To her dismay, it was canceled from the books, and there would be no departure January 6th after all. They had all met that evening, Tuesday, and sat around with one of Diana’s favorites – cheese popcorn, and in a strange sort of celebration – two bottles of sparkling grape juice. Surprisingly, she was not even teary about the whole ordeal.
She was even able to laugh heartily with the rest of them over a letter from her friend from school – a letter of “nearly a proposal” except for the fact that he knew if he asked her to marry him, the thought of it would “make (her) puke”… how romantic…
Of course, while reading it in her room, they couldn’t help but notice the screen-saver that still flashed across in bright orange – “Wheaton bound!!!” – and the several paper sacks of dorm goodies she had received for her birthday. In a way it was sad, but then again, there were other prospects at hand, and Diana was quite happily considering everything that had taken place since that morning when she had initially received the news:
“Sorry, Diana, but the conservatory cannot accept you if you only plan on staying a year, and then transferring to the college for a degree in history. Red flags went up when you explained, and, well, we’re sorry, but it just isn’t possible.”
Silence on the other end no doubt… sniff, sniff… Collette wasn’t exactly pleased with how they had handled the situation. She had been honest with her intentions. How could she help it if she decided not to major in music after all? They hadn’t even paid a single penny in tuition assistance after two years of dreaming, saving, and working off her tail-bone. Hmmmm… Collette was not too happy with this Wheaton business.
Nevertheless, after the ridiculous “proposal” letter had been finished, they came back to the kitchen for snacks.
Raising one of the bottles of sparkling juice in the air, Diana laughed, “Here’s to Diana and her miserable day. Forget Wheaton!” She joked, doubling over in laughter.
A sense of adventure had encapsulated her. “I know what I’ll do. First, I’ll spend this semester in Greece with one of the missionary families from church. Then over the summer I’ll study abroad in London.”
As Mom drove Collette back to her apartment the following evening, (Collette feeling too down in the mouth to attend choir practice with Joe and Rose), Mom decided to treat her and Carrie-Bri to a little ice cream via the Dairy Queen drive-through.
After ordering a dish of soft-serve chocolate ice cream, Collette said aloud, “We should have Diana cut up her Wheaton sweatshirt.”
“No, better – we’ll have a burning,” Carrie said.
“A bonfire in the backyard, down by the Englishs’ woods,” Collette added, “a burning of all Wheaton paraphernalia.”
“Yeah,” Carrie snorted with a laugh, “and Diana’ll be all getting into it.”
“Maniacal laughter.”
“And she’ll be like, ‘No, guys, this is the way it’s going to end.’” Carrie-Bri imitated her perfectly.
It was an all-too-funny thought; they could all picture it – four girls down by the woods, dancing witch-like around a small fire, cackling heathenishly. Comic relief for the evening… I really must get that tape recorder and save these conversations, Collette thought to herself as she drifted off to sleep that night.