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My sisters and I went to an all girls Catholic school in 1973 (Part 1)

I've never told anyone this story, not even my own children.

It started in 1973. At least, my involvement in the situation did. I was the middle child of three and we attended an all girls Catholic school. Our tuition was graciously funded by my maternal grandparents, who like my mother were staunchly religious and very miserable. My parents would have never been able to afford that kind of thing. Our father was a factory worker and our mother stayed at home. We were poor to say the least, but our grandmother made sure we had our education.

Most children dread changing schools, but we were excited when we learned Evelyn had been accepted at St. Margaret's. It was highly regarded and after hearing all kinds of stories from our mother and aunts we thought it would be a new beginning. We thought that perhaps it would be an escape from our poor home life and our parents' unhappy marriage.

We were wrong.

In 1973 I was seventeen years old. Evelyn was a senior at the time, I a junior, and Edith was two years under me. Back then people still called me Ada, but I've forgoed that name long ago.

They called us Evie, Adie, and Edie.

It's an understatement to claim we had a lot going on that year. Edith had always been sickly and garnered the attention of my mother every second. Evelyn, to my family's disdain, was pregnant. My father had been enraged at Evelyn and his addiction to the bottle didn't help. He couldn't beat her because of the baby, but he could kick her out, so he did and took to taking it out on me. Edith escaped most of it due to her condition.

I didn't see Evelyn for six months.

Before then school was pretty normal. We'd go to our classes and participate in whatever extracurriculars our mother allowed us. We weren't allowed to play sports, but Edith took to the flute well in the school's band and Evelyn excelled in the debate club. I didn't feel I was particularly good at anything - well, maybe except poetry. I was told I had a knack for it from the American Lit. teacher, Father Frost, but I never thought so. There wasn't really a club for that kind of thing, but often he and I would exchange poetry that we liked to one another. After Evelyn left most of the time he felt like the only friend I had.

Everyone knew Evelyn was knocked up and Edith and I was ostracized for it. It was subtle at first, but soon looks of disdain and little whispers became snide taunts to the face and purposeful exclusion. Edith escaped most of it by being stuck at home with her poor health, which I was almost glad for. I didn't want her to ever know of the awful rumors that had started to spread. Some rumors were pretty tame and others were more brutal. Like the baby's father was our own father's and that the reason why Edith had been out of school for so long was that she was probably pregnant too. Those were the worst.

I tried to ignore them and I've never been really confrontational so I kept to myself. Eventually the bullying had gotten so bad that wind of it had caught to the staff and I was forced to attend counselling sessions with Father Cafferty.

Father Cafferty was stocky and had cold, little beady eyes that pierced through me every time I saw him. His voice seemed unnaturally even and when he smiled, it never reached his eyes. We started having counselling sessions every Wednesday and that soon grew to nearly almost every afternoon after school.

"I want to keep her from going down the same path as Evelyn," he had told my parents, assuring them his guidance would better mold me into a respectable, God fearing, young lady. My mother ate it up.