Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/112

 He stirred and the scarred wood creaked beneath him. "Did you make out all right yesterday?"

"I guess so. 'Course everything's new … and different … I …"

"You'll get used to it in no time."

Rogers confessed, "Kinda makes you nervous, though."

"What's your first class?" Gaylord inquired.

"Geometry," Rogers grumbled.

"Mine's gym," Gaylord said. He continued, "From the way you said ‘geometry,' you must like it about as much as I do."

"I hate it."

There was no mistaking the finality of his words. Gaylord grinned, and put a pencil into his pocket. "So do I," he almost laughed. The dull depressing feeling that had seemed destined was gone. He liked Glenn Rogers, felt comfortable talking to him.

Now they were not alone. One by one, students who had been loitering in the hall came into the room. A confused murmur of voices filled it quickly. Miss Grey appeared annoyed, and every now and then glanced up from her book. She was about to say something, then changing her mind, continued the love story she was reading.

"Hello, Gay." The sentence was a treble arpeggio that ended in a tinkle of warm laughter.

"Hello, Joy," Gaylord said, looking into the pretty face with the wrinkled-up nose. Gosh, she's pretty, he thought to himself.

"I thought I was going to be late this morning." She turned from Gaylord to Glenn Rogers, smiled and asked, "And how are you this morning?"

"Oh," Rogers looked from the book to the girl. "Oh, I'm fine, thank you."

"That's good." She went to her seat.

A savory odor, a mixture of hair tonic and soap, tinged the early morning air around the boys in sweat-shirts, tieless collars and dungarees. There were girls wearing low-heeled shoes and gayly-colored skirts, and barelegged girls with soiled blouses carelessly ironed over their drooping shoulders. Some of them looked eager and some bored; most chattered unceasingly; some sat in silence, and some buried themselves in their books. 102