Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/125



AT FOUR O'CLOCK, GAYLORD HAD closed another day of school. He put away his books, again dreading the moment he must turn down the long hall and be caught there in the crowd of students. He began to reason, this was his school, there was no need to be afraid; surely if he did meet Stud nothing would happen, no razzing or filthy names. Stud and the rest had probably left earlier anyway … he wondered if Blake had. He remembered the bronze arms that had held him and wished for them again. Yes, it would be nice to run into Blake … just to see him would be nice.

He walked down the hall among the straggling, chattering throng with an uncomprehending gaze in his eyes; but if anyone had asked him what they said, he would have been unable to answer, for though his eyes were upon them, he did not hear their conversation at all.

Avoiding the main entrance, he went around to the side door, held it open for three girls to pass.

"Thanks, Gay," one smiled.

"You're welcome," he answered.

The door swung behind him and opened again before it had closed. The air over the campus was noisy and warm. Shadows hazed it, and changed the leaves of various shrubbery to angular greenish shadow boxes. The confusion broke about him and as he edged his way through, he was thinking, I don't see Stud … guess he's gone.

A new wave of laughter broke to the right. A wrestling match was in progress. Gaylord moved to the left, avoiding the jostling laughing crowd and, unlike the others, did not laugh with the wild abandon about the wrestlers. Their fists, hitting hard flesh, set up answering rhythms in his mind and his thoughts moved in remembering, oblique tangents. That awful Stud, he thought. I hope he gets it good. He's such a bully. If I was a girl I couldn't even let him touch me. He's probably only bragging about all the girls he's 115