Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/15

 no one I'd rather go out with … no one … it would make me so happy … I wish you'd go riding with me … I wish I could ask you … why can't I ask you?"

He had no words when Blake did speak to him. Only a warm feeling in his blood and on his skin and in the burgeoning parts of his body, like a burning fever. He was drunk with admiration around this bronze idol. He was drunk too with the creative fury inside him, which was for him a book of prophecy revealing himself to himself.

Why was he so bashful? So timid and shy he couldn't go after the things he wanted? Others did. Had a support, a prop, been lacking in himself? Had he been born without a nerve others possessed? There was bound to be something. Something mysterious. The conflict that had been generated inside him had-grown with each passing minute, and now, they were magnified beyond all reason.

Gaylord sighed deeply. All love he felt for Blake grew within him. Even if it was strange, he couldn't stop this feeling. He had always felt strange around Blake. Yes, always … a feeling of something not understood surrounded Blake. Oh, God, he sighed, life's sure a mess.

He dropped his gaze to his clothes and moved slowly, his thoughts changing with every step, over the deep carpet of his upstairs room. He was dressed, ready to leave.

Yes, in a little while he would have to yield himself to another ordeal. A self-inflicted ordeal. First, he would drive to the auditorium, alone, where the dance was, then he would walk down the cracked sidewalk, alone, and the riddle would be repeated … you're scared … you're timid … you're a sissy. He could see the cunning glances thrown at him. He could hear their wise-cracks. And he would shrink into himself as he had always done when a crowd was involved.

Perhaps Blake would be outside. He doubted it, since it was quite late. Still, it would be nice to walk up with Blake and Joy. Blake was so friendly, kind. Not like the others. He could see and hear them in the blur before him, devoid of kindness or understanding. And the auditorium also aspired into a tantalizing web into which his life was woven with a deadly grip. It held fast, awakening memories of himself that he would never forget. A misunderstood boy named Gaylord, standing always alone.

With a degree of confusion he was a child again, sitting next to 5