The World of Henry Orient

Phoenicia.

A country of the ancient world

on the Mediterranean, north of Palestine.

The Phoenicians were great travellers.

They colonised Cyprus, Rhodes...

Crete. Cyprus, Rhodes and Crete.

Cyprus, Rhodes and Crete.

Please! Catch 'em, will you?

Gee, I'm sorry. What was it?

Music notes. I'll just have to

do them all over, that's all.

And I know Mr Drago's

going to have kittens.

I've a good mind to push it all in the river

and let them throw me out again.

- Are you in the eighth?

- Sure.

I've seen you.

You sit two rows in front of me.

Boy, is that Phoenicia a draggy dump.

Did you finish it?

I read some of it on the bus this morning,

but not all of it.

Were you really

thrown out of here before?

Not here. Two other schools,

though, in one year.

For gosh sakes, what for?

I'm unmanageable.

You're new here too, aren't you?

- Last month.

- You like it?

They say it's the finest girls' school

in the country.

I don't either. Gum?

Thanks.

You like Mr Drago?

- I think he stinks. Do you?

- I hate him!

So do I. What about Miss Cooney?

You like her?

- I think she stinks worse than Mr Drago.

- Me too.

- You know many other girls around here?

- Not many. Do you?

- Not many.

- Oh, darn!

- Do you have rubber bands?

- Yeah, listen.

- Haven't you?

- No, but I've got railroad tracks.

- Golly Moses.

- How long have you had yours?

- Nearly a year. Yours?

- Nearly two.

- When are you gonna get 'em off?

- June, he says.

For goodness sakes, me too!

- What are you doing Saturday?

- Nothing.

- Do you wanna go adventuring?

- How do you mean?

I mean, like jumping right of your skin

and being absolutely somebody else.

Not just pretending,

but being somebody else.

- Know the sailing pond in Central Park?

- Yeah.

You meet me there at ten o'clock

and I'll show you.

- What's your name?

- Marian Gilbert. What's yours?

- Valerie Boyd.

- Boyd?

Are you the one that

goes home early every day?

I forgot. I've gotta go see someone.

Mom?

- Mom!

- Yes, dear.

Can I invite a friend

for lunch some Saturday?

You've finally found a friend

in that snob hatchery?

- Merci very beaucoup.

- How long should I leave the curry on?

- I'd give it another five minutes.

- Mom?

Of course. I've been hoping you would.

I'd like to meet your friends.

- Thanks.

- Better make it ten.

Maybe she can go with you

afterwards to Mrs DePaul's.

Mom, I told you,

I'm not going to that thing.

- Who's Mrs DePaul?

- She runs a cruddy old dancing class.

On the contrary,

she happens to be a very nice woman

who offers these ungrateful brats

a chance to meet some very nice boys.

I saw some of those very nice boys

waiting for the bus the other day.

Trinity School boys.

You know what they were doing?

- What?

- Burping.

Pardon?

They were having a burping contest

to see who could burp the loudest.

You can't beat the upper classes

for gracious living.

Did you see these Italian shoes

in the Altman ad this morning?

I couldn't wear anything like that.

I guess they're too pointed.

- It's a good heel, though.

- What about that? I rather like that.

Gil! Come on!

- What was it?

- Bandits.

What kind?

- Chinese.

- This could mean death.

- Especially to two beautiful white nurses.

- Look.

- D'you think we can make it?

- We must never be taken alive.

Here's the poison.

Hold it in the back of your mouth.

When they try and radish us,

just bite down on it.

- When they try and what?

- Radish us.

- Why would they do that?

- We're two beautiful white nurses, silly.

- My last thoughts were of him.

- Who?

- Gregory Peck.

- Too old.

Wait here. I'll scout.

- Did you see those eyes?

- X-ray eyes.

I hope I don't dream about 'em.

There's one thing

I can say for my apartment.

You don't have to sit on granite there.

- I'd be scared to death, Henry.

- Yeah?

I can tell you this for certain. We're

a lot more liable to run into your husband

in the middle of Central Park

than we are in my living room.

No, somebody might see us going in.

I've never been out

with another man before,

so you'll have to give me

a little more time.

We're never gonna be able to get together

except on rocks in Central Park?

Darling, we don't want anything to happen

that would spoil our friendship, do we?

No.

It's so beautiful the way it is,

don't you think?

Yes... yes.

Then why don't we just keep it that way?

Little punks.

- Splitsing!

- Splitsing!

- Splitsing!

- Splitsing!

- Splitsing!

- Splitsing!

Splitsing!

Splitsing!

Splitsing!

- What's this?

- It's where I live.

We splitsed a kid. We splitsed a boy

on a bike, never even touched him.

- Did you?

- I didn't.

- Is this Marian?

- I'm sorry. That's Emma, Gil. Come on.

Marian, I can't tell you how pleased

we are that Valerie has a real friend now.

- I'm very pleased to be her friend.

- She spends too much time alone.

Or with adults, which is even worse.

We'll talk later.

I can't compete with her music.

Thank you.

- Are your parents divorced?

- Yes. How did you know?

- Just a guess. Was it a mess?

- I don't even remember it. I was a baby.

My father lives in Florida, but I see him

when he comes to New York.

- You don't seem bothered.

- I don't think about it much.

- I'm used to living with Mom and Boothy.

- Boothy?

She's an old friend who lives with us.

She's swell.

Is Emma your mother?

No. She and her husband Charles

take care of me. She's sweet.

- Very.

- The school found them.

- Are yours divorced?

- No, but they travel all the time.

Europe and places like that.

Dad's business is

international trade or something.

Where's your home?

I mean, your real home?

I'm not sure exactly.

We've got a place in Arizona.

I've never really seen it.

It's for winter and I go to school then.

They've got an apartment in Paris. Used

to, anyway. They stay in a hotel here.

You miss them very much?

I used to, but I guess I'm like you now.

The only time I really miss my dad is

six in the evening when it's getting dark

and we're gonna sit down for dinner,

just the three of us - Mom, Boothy and me.

- You know Lillian Kafritz?

- Stringy-haired girl?

- I can't stand her.

- Why does she put that guck in her hair?

Isn't it awful? I was having dinner

at her house one night

and about six o'clock

her father came home from the office.

He bought Mrs Kafritz

a bushel of roasted chestnuts

and a couple of crummy little bunches

of violets for Lillian and me.

How corny can you get?

- You think your dad'll ever come back?

- How can he?

He's married again

and got a couple of kids.

- But how do you know he's happy?

- He's crazy about her.

I know, but...

just suppose he suddenly realised

his second marriage was a tragic mistake.

His eyes are opened at last

and he knows now that your mother

is the only woman

he's ever loved in his whole life.

I don't think there's much chance of that.

So there's nothing to do but to tell her

the truth. The second wife, I mean.

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