Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/57



SUBCONSCIOUSLY HE PUSHED THE waves deeper in his hair, remembering Blake's strong arms. He murmured the name and even though it sounded warm and friendly, there came with it a feeling of extreme helplessness and fear. He gripped the wide wooden desk and pulled himself up. What about those three who had molested him. His emotions were like boiling water, changing every second. He moved slowly. Here, in this crowded school, he felt himself at the mercy of the treacherous limbs of youths whose rugged countenances he faced every day and whose eyes seemed to tower above him. He shivered, knowing the only way to find escape from their insulting words was for him to either die or move away from Cotton. But he knew he would not do either of these. He would remain there, and the slapping and words would continue. It was really true and the only thing for him to do was endure it.

The morning ordeal had left him exhausted, and now at the door, he turned and listened to the wind. It was a silent sound and if the shrubbery outside had not stirred, there would have been no evidence of its presence. He shivered again, but it was not the warm air that made him do so; it was the recollection that Blake had kissed him. It had been a dangerous thing to do and if anyone had seen them, they would certainly ridicule him. He wondered briefly why they seemed to delight in teasing him. He had never done anything to Stud or the rest, yet Stud would be the first to expose him.

He pressed his hands around the school's bronze door knob and looked down. Its color reminded him of Blake. His fingers gathered themselves into small fists and he pressed his hands against the knob. If only it could be Blake in his grasp. He glanced at the pane in the 47