by JF Freedman
The crawlspace was low and dusty. It had been built so that workmen could get underneath to fix the pipes and supports, but it didn’t look like anybody’d been in here since day one. There were cobwebs and rat turds all over the place. I led the way as we scrambled along the dirt floor on all fours.
“How the hell’d you learn about this?” Burt coughed. “Jesus, there must be a million rats live in here.”
We could hear their little voices squeaking around us. For all I knew they were an inch away. I didn’t even want to look, you could see their beady eyes glistening in the dark.
“Checked it out,” I answered, moving right along, “in case something like this ever happened. Gotta be prepared.”
“You’d make a great goddamn Boy Scout, Poole,” Joe said, the sarcastic bastard.
“Better than getting your ass shipped up to Lockraven,” I told him. Lockraven’s the state reform school, north of Baltimore. There’s plenty of dumb jokes about Lockraven and Ravensburg, the names being so similar, how they’re almost the same, which is a load of shit. I’ve known older guys, like Victor Gallegly in my sister’s class, who’ve gone there and returned to tell the tale. It isn’t pretty.
We came to a grate in the foundation wall. Pushing at it until it came loose in my hands, I exposed a small opening to the outside, less than a yard square. I slithered through first, leading the way.
“God-fucking-damnit!” I’d torn my shirt on a jagged piece of molding.
I pushed the rest of the way out. Burt handed me the money satchel, then followed. Joe brought up the rear.
“Son of a fucking bitch.” I stuck a finger through the rent in my shirt. “I’m going to have to charge y’all for a new shirt for getting your sorry asses out alive.”
We were outside the apartment complex, a couple hundred yards from where we’d entered. We set the grate back in place and stood silently for a moment, listening to make sure we hadn’t been spotted. Then we disappeared into the night.
I bought a sweatshirt for a buck, which I made Burt and Joe pay out of their share of the loot, seeing’s how I’d saved their bacon back there. They bitched and moaned but they paid up. Let’s face it, without me leading them by the hand they wouldn’t have gotten out of there alive, let alone have plenty of coins rattling around in their jeans. It was my idea to do those boxes anyway, way back last year. I’m the brains in this group, I deserve a little tribute now and then.
We were in Kresge’s, hiding out. It was late; the place was almost deserted. Except for guys like my old man who’re out drinking and whoring, this town rolls the sidewalks up when the sun goes down; before, practically. It really is a hick town, I shit you not. I pulled the sweatshirt over my head to cover the tear in my shirt. At least I hadn’t been wearing my new Ravensburg High jacket, that would’ve frosted my ass something severe.
Burt and Joe were wandering around like drunk sailors, still shook up from our narrow escape, buying all kinds of goofy shit, trivial worthless items like key chains and yo-yos. We had plenty of money, it had been a good night even though we’d missed the last three boxes.
“Lookit who’s here,” Burt winked, nudging Joe.
I glanced up, unaware of what had caught their eye.
Darlene Mast was directly across the counter from me, shopping with her mother. She caught my look and smiled at me.
I smiled back. I was frozen; I couldn’t move a muscle.
“Hi, Roy,” she called.
“Hi … Darlene,” I managed to say.
She smiled at me for a moment like she was expecting me to do something. I couldn’t—I was rooted to the spot, a block of stone. Her mom looked over at me with this puzzled look on her puss, like “who’s he,” since I’ve never met Darlene’s parents before. She’s a nice-looking woman, kind of looks like Darlene, but real prissy. She moved on down the aisle.
Darlene stared at me a moment longer, like she was waiting for me to do something, but I didn’t, I was still frozen there, so she caught up to her mom, turning once to look back and make sure I was still there, looking at her.
“Hi, Roy,” Burt sang out in this stupid falsetto voice.
“Fuck you.”
“You know something, Roy?” Joe asked.
I wasn’t even with them—I was watching Darlene from across the store, hoping she’d turn back and look my way again.
“I think old Darlene likes you,” Joe went on, “I definitely think she does.”
“Up yours.”
“Lots of guys wouldn’t mind Darlene liking ’em,” he said, “especially Danny Detweiler.”
I glared at them. They got the hint and backed off, moving down the aisle, looking for more junk to spend their booty on.
I moved in Darlene’s direction, playing it real casual, bird-dogging her from aisle to aisle. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Joe and Burt, those stupid twerps, pick up on what I was doing. They started following me following her, like in one of those Marx Brothers movies, big shit-eating grins plastered across their faces.
She looked back towards me. I turned away like I wasn’t looking at her at all.
“Oh lover boy,” Burt whispered.
“I’m gonna kill your ass, man,” I warned him.
“Oh lover boy,” he sang back.
Darlene and her mother had finished what they’d come for.
They headed for the checkout stand. I could tell by the way Darlene paused, her hand on her hip, that she was stalling.
It was now or never. I counted down from ten, then did it again.
“Would you like a sundae with me? Can I buy one for you?” I’d come up in front of her, blocking her path. It startled her but she smiled, quickly turning to her mother for approval.
“Mom, can I?”
Her mom gave me a real good up-and-down appraisal. I felt like a specimen under a microscope in biology class—this was a no-nonsense woman.
“This is Roy Poole, Mom. From my class.” She smiled at her mom like they were sharing a secret. “He’s really nice.”
Mrs. Mast nodded her approval. “I’ll wait for you in the car. Don’t take forever.” She gave me another look-see, collected her change, and left us.
I expelled my breath, which I didn’t even know I’d been holding.
“Come on, then,” Darlene said, taking my arm.
We sat at the counter, eating hot-fudge sundaes with the works. She ate like a lady, holding her pinkie away from her spoon and dabbing her napkin at her lips between bites. She was putting it away in style, though, I noticed. I myself was having a hard time getting the spoon to my mouth, let alone eat.
Joe and Burt slid onto the stools on either side of us.
“Hi, Darlene,” they sang out in unison.
“Hi Burt, hi Joe,” she answered, favoring each one with a dazzling smile.
I looked straight ahead, spooning in the ice cream. I was going to kick some serious butt later on, they could make book on that.
“What’cha eating?” Burt asked, like he couldn’t see, it was right there in front of him.
“Hot-fudge sundae,” Darlene told him, playing right along, even holding up a spoonful for him to see.
“Looks good,” Joe kicked in, “I think I’ll have me one.”
“Yeah, me too,” Burt chimed in.
“I thought y’all had to get home early,” I said, making sure they heard the pissed-off in my voice.
“No, I don’t have to,” Burt said.
“Me, neither,” Joe added. He called down the counter: “Hey, can we get some service down here?” then he spun around to face Darlene. “How’ve you been, Darlene?”
“I’ve been fine.” She spooned in a dainty mouthful, and smiled at me. She could tell this was bugging the shit out of me, but she wasn’t going to do anything to stop it. That was my job.
I sat there, silent. The pimply-faced counter girl, whose feet were killing her, you could tell by the way she walked, came down the duckboards.
“What d
o you brats want?”
“I want one of them hot-fudge sundaes. With nuts on top,” Joe informed her.
“That’s what I want, too,” Burt seconded.
The counter girl started working on their sundaes. I sat stiff as a board, shoveling ice cream down my mouth like it was my last supper.
Burt glanced over at me. “So Darlene … how’s Danny been these days?”
“Danny who?” she asked, glancing at me.
“How many Dannys are there? Detweiler. I heard you and him were going steady.”
I almost choked on my ice cream. Man, that sucker was cruising for a bruising.
Darlene faced Burt squarely. “I am not going with anyone. Especially not that stuck-up Danny Detweiler.”
“Somebody told me you were,” Burt said, innocent as an altar boy.
“Well, somebody was wrong.”
The counter girl put Joe’s and Burt’s sundaes in front of them.
“That’ll be a quarter apiece.”
They fished handfuls of nickels out, plunked them down on the counter.
“These look great,” Burt said. “I’m starving.”
“Me, too,” Joe kicked in.
They started scarfing down the sundaes.
Darlene stole a look at me, put her spoon down. “This is an awfully big sundae, Roy,” she said, “I can’t eat another bite.”
I seized the opportunity. “Me neither.”
“Why don’t you walk me out?”
“Okay,” I told her. “Sure.”
We stood up. I looked down at the chumps.
“You can finish ours if you’re still hungry. No charge.”
I followed her out, leaving Burt and Joe stuck. Served them right, the assholes.
“I’ll bet they didn’t even want them,” she giggled in my ear.
Boy, that got me tingling. Her lips had been an inch away from touching me.
We went outside. She turned to me before we got to where her mom was waiting. “Do you want to walk me home?” she asked shyly.
“Yeah.” I swallowed. “I mean sure. Yes.”
Mrs. Mast was waiting in their Buick. “All set?” She was impatient and wasn’t trying to hide it.
“Can Roy walk me home, Mom?” Darlene asked, leaning in the window. “I want to talk to him about our history assignment. Roy’s real good in history.”
Mrs. Mast looked me over again. I could read her mind—this boy doesn’t look like any good student I’ve ever seen, was what she was thinking.
“I don’t know. It’s getting late, I want you home.” This was a tough cookie, all right.
“We won’t stop anywhere, Mrs. Mast,” I hurriedly assured her, “I’ll walk Darlene straight home.” I said a silent prayer.
“Straight home,” she finally allowed, “no dawdling.”
“My mom’s pretty good, all things considered,” Darlene told me as we watched the big Buick ease into traffic, “but she can be so strict. Sometimes she treats me like I’m still in sixth grade.”
“My mom, too,” I lied. I didn’t know what else to say, but I felt I had to say something.
She put on her earmuffs. They were pink, like bunny’s ears. “Let’s walk,” she said. “I’m cold.”
We walked along side by side. Darlene lived in Rolling Rock, a new development of solid houses and nice lawns, up the road, a mile or so from the older part of town. Rolling Rock isn’t as nice as Cheverly, but it’s a lot nicer than where I live.
I was nervous and happy at the same time. I glanced over at her. She seemed completely at ease. She was a girl, girls know stuff boys never will, I knew that for sure. Boys talk about things, but girls have the knowledge. I don’t know how I know that, but I know it’s true.
“I’ve been wondering when you were going to say something to me,” Darlene said, turning to me.
“You have?” I stammered. Jesus, what a dummy I can be. She didn’t seem to notice, though. That’s because it was pretty dark, and there wasn’t much of a moon out.
“I mean … I noticed you watching me sometimes.”
“Well,” I admitted, “I guess I have. Sometimes.”
“Well, I’m sure glad you finally said something to me.”
“You are?” I was absolutely astonished. I could’ve kicked myself I felt so stupid. I’ve got this big reputation, the rock who never takes any shit from anyone, not even a teacher, someone who’s gotten bare titty from plenty of girls, and here I was as tongue-tied as an imbecile, unable to say three words to her without tripping over myself. I stole another look at her—she didn’t seem to notice any of my dumbness.
“I know there’s lots of girls that like you, Roy.” She was looking forward, not at me.
“Not that many.” Sometimes you’ve got to be modest, especially around a girl like this. The truth is, there are several girls that I know like me, but I don’t want Darlene to think I’ve been with every girl in the school, just with enough to let her know I’m worth it.
“I mean … do you like me?” she asked.
She was nervous, too. Goddamn! I had to play this really cool.
“Sure I do.”
“I mean … you know …”
“Yeah …”
“I do, too.”
“You do?”
“Can’t you tell?” She took my arm. “I’m cold,” she said, pressing up against me.
We walked for a minute. I was counting my breaths. She giggled.
“Now I’m not.”
Her porch light was on. We stood off to the side so it wouldn’t shine on us. She had made me walk real quiet up the stairs, so her mom wouldn’t hear us.
“Well … good night, Roy.”
“Good night, Darlene.”
“See you tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
We stared awkwardly at each other.
“Darlene, would you like to go steady with me?” I heard myself blurt out. I hadn’t meant to say it, it just came out.
She was taken aback.
“I mean … I know it’s like …” What the fuck did I mean? I didn’t know myself. I did want to, I’d been wanting to since the day I laid eyes on her, but you don’t ask a girl to go with you when you haven’t even had one real date.
“I … my mother doesn’t let me.”
“Oh … okay … sure …”
“But if she did … I would like to go out with you whenever you can … when you want to … if you do … is that okay?”
“Sure, yeah. That’s great.” Is that okay? Is the pope Catholic?
“That’s good.” She smiled.
I’d run out of gas. This was more than I could handle for one night.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.” I turned to go.
“Roy?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t you want to kiss me good night?”
Whoa, Nellie. “Sure.”
She came to me. I held her, awkwardly, bending down and giving her a nice kiss, a kiss that wouldn’t offend her, since it was our first time.
A nice kiss was not what this girl had in mind. She Frenched me so deep down my throat I almost felt her tongue touching my tonsils.
That was all I needed. We made out like fiends, right there on her mother’s front porch. Even though she was wearing a heavy coat I could feel her titties pressed up against me. I had to shift my leg slightly so she wouldn’t feel my boner. She shifted with me, pressing her thigh right between my legs.
She took a deep breath when we finally came up for air. Then she leaned forward and bit my lip.
My leg started jitterbugging on its own. Damn, she was wild! Darlene Mast, who everybody thought was untouchable.
“Boy, Roy, you sure do kiss great.”
“So do you, Darlene.”
“I’ll bet you’ve had lots of practice,” she teased, “a lot more than me.”
I wasn’t sure about that, not after the way she’d just kissed me, but I wasn’t going to say so. You’ve got to act
like a gentleman sometimes, even if it means not saying everything that’s on your mind.
“I don’t want to anymore,” I told her, “only with you.”
This was the truth. If I didn’t kiss another girl the rest of my life I wouldn’t care.
She leaned against me one more time before pulling away.
“My mother knows we’re out here,” she whispered. “I’d better say good night, so she’ll let me see you again.”
“Good night,” I said back to her.
She touched my cheek with her mittened hand one time, then darted inside. A moment later, the porch light went off.
I stood without moving for a long time, until I forced myself to walk down the stairs. I could’ve slept on their porch all night, except they’d have thought I was crazy.
I was floating on air as I walked home. This was definitely one of the great days of my life. Probably the greatest.
EIGHT
“THAT’S A NICE-LOOKING BLAZER, Roy,” Admiral Wells said, squinting at me as I stood in front of the full-length mirror. “Blue looks good on you, which is fortunate for someone who aspires to Annapolis.” He has this real dry sense of humor, the admiral, half the time I don’t know if he’s kidding or not. He turned to the salesman, who was holding another sports coat. “Let’s try on the tweed now, shall we?”
We were in this very fancy men’s store in Washington, Louis and Thomas Saltz, where the admiral buys his own clothes. Everybody in here knew him—as soon as we walked in all the salesmen started falling over themselves trying to help.
“We need a jacket for my young friend here,” he’d told the salesman, “a sports coat he can wear with anything. We’ll also be wanting a couple of shirts, a tie, and a pair of slacks. Cords should do the trick, I think.” He glanced down at my shoes. I was wearing my clip-toe bombers, which have a two-inch thick sole. “We’ll worry about shoes next time, if that’s all right with you,” he said to me.
I shrugged, too intimidated to answer. I felt like a chump, not only because of the clothes—which if any of my friends ever saw me in would be the end of my being thought of as cool—but the fact that he was going to pay for it all.