Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/62

 and swish of girls' skirts, greetings tossed back over a shoulder in passing. The cries of the younger students echoed thinly from the opened school door.

Gaylord saw her coming toward him. Alone. Older than the other girls, more sureness in her stride and in the way she carried a large purse. Her hair, blowing just a little, looked pretty and her hips swung in unison with her shapely legs. Faintly embarrassed, he looked at the girl with intense concentration. His gaze rested on a vulgar feature of her dress. It had a low-cut neckline, deliberately pinned back to show the crease between her breasts.

"Well, hello good-looking. Long time no see," she said. "Where've you been keeping yourself?"

He blushed, said, "Hello, Thelma," and gave a quick glance around. Had anyone heard her remark? She was always calling him that in public. He wished she wouldn't be so brazen. He didn't like the sweet perfume she wore. It surrounded him and worked down in his nostrils.

Several boys whistled on passing. Gaylord waited, on the alert for some smart crack, some ugly gesture, but none came from them.

Thelma leaned toward him and looked him straight in the eyes. "Why haven't you been to see me? I've missed you, good-looking."

"I've been pretty busy studying," Gaylord said and glanced significantly at her.

"Too busy for love?" she said in a very level voice. She laughed and patted his cheek. "You shouldn't let yourself get that busy."

The coolness of her voice and the self-assurance of her attitude startled Gaylord. With that same look eight months ago she had said: "Hop in, Gay. I'll take you home in my new car."

Eight months ago? Or was it nine … ten? Or had it really happened. Yes, he realized it had really happened. That he and this girl had been inextricably involved. He had been overawed and chilled by her forwardness. Had been scared and repulsed when she had placed his hands over the large swells of both her breasts. Had shuddered from forced kisses that might keep his teeth from chattering. He had thought of Blake when her hand massaged the increasing hardness and she had said something about Blake. He remembered that, even though it had been repulsive … she had said something 52