Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/24

 top button. Everyone left their collars wide open. He would be like the rest.

Suddenly, as if to get away from the pressure of his thoughts, he kicked at the sidewalk, saying to himself: "I wish they'd fix these darn walks. These cracks are dangerous. I'd like to tell the Chamber of Commerce a few things." Other things that should have been attended to were stirring in his brain and he wished he had the nerve to tell them it was a shame the open porch was so dimly lighted, the entrance so shabby, the black lettering "Public Auditorium" so much in need of paint. The two small light bulbs should have been freed from the spider webs and dead insects that draped them, too. The thoughts came breaking through—a stout demand breaking before an innate shyness … like dreams … like dreams unresolved.

In protest against them, he screwed up his courage, and walked briskly toward the crowded porch. He noticed again the scarred lettering and outer walls. To him, the very sight of the building brought back unpleasant memories, and with each step he was sorry he had come. He was overawed and chilled by the surroundings; the couples on the porch; and the sensation of complete unfamiliarity with any person around him. It was all caught in the dross of the past; the heartache of loneliness and longing; like an echo out of his childhood calling him back.

The path lay clear ahead to the porch. He could imagine what was being thought under the examining eyes of his classmates. They smiled on passing but— He would have turned back if something within had not urged him on.

"Hi, Gay."

"Oh … hi, Connie."

He stood undecided. He briefly considered mingling with them, but they were together, and the boy with Connie gave him a queer look. He hurried by them but the friendly greeting had helped, had given him new courage to walk across the crowded porch, under the eyes of all these strangers.

Gaylord stood for the most part in silence. Aside from the occasional glances at him, no one seemed to take any special interest in him, and as he moved slowly towards the door, he felt himself becoming absorbed in the gathering. 14