Children of the Promise

by Dean Hughes

  Reed was baffled by all that, but he laughed and held on, and then LaRue moved him back into the rhythm. By then almost everyone in the place was watching them—or at least her. She wished Reed knew how to lift her, or slip her through his legs. Those were tricks she just couldn’t do without his help. All the same, she clung to his hand and tried all the variations on the turns she knew, and when the song was over, she told him, “See, you’re good, Reed. I’ll make you a great dancer if you stick with me.”

  “Hey, I’m happy to stick to you,” he said, and he slid his arm around her waist. LaRue knew that this was his idea of a clever line, but there was almost no wit in the boy. He did well in school—taking tests and writing term papers—but he was certainly not a deep thinker. LaRue, of course, had never been a scholar of any great merit herself, but she did think about the world, and she did raise questions.

  “Careful there, boy. Don’t get sticky with me.” She jabbed him in the ribs with her finger.

  He was still clinging to her, so she twisted away and faced him.

  “Let’s dance this slow one,” he said.

  “What about your hamburger? I thought it was getting cold.”

  “It is cold now. What the heck?” He reached around her again and tried to pull her close. The new style for dancing at East High was to hold the girl very close and bend way over her. It made for awkward dancing, at best, and in Reed’s case it also made for smashed toes.

  “Oops. I think my malt is melting.” LaRue pulled away and headed back to the table.

  Reed followed, seemingly unfazed, and the two sat down to their food. The other two couples had to shift to make room in the booth once again. LaRue and Reed sat facing one another.

  Reed’s buddies, Rex Davis and Clint Chambers, were sitting next to their dates. Rex and Clint were seniors, but their dates were both juniors, the same as Reed. Rex was with Evelyn Creer, a cute girl with dark hair and deep dimples. She was one of the school yell leaders. Clint had been dating Connie Fawson for more than a year, and they didn’t hesitate to tell people that they planned to marry once they were out of school. Connie wasn’t all that cute, in LaRue’s mind. Her front teeth stuck out a little too much, and she didn’t know how to dress. But she was nice—not so stuck on herself as Evelyn was.

  LaRue was the youngest person there, the only sophomore, but that didn’t bother her. What did concern her was that the other two couples had apparently begun to talk about the war while she and Reed had been dancing. The last thing she wanted was one of those boring discussions about who was winning where, and when the war might end. That’s all anyone ever talked about, it seemed, and yet no one knew the answers.

  “The Germans are going to be finished off before long,” Rex was saying. “We’ll never get in on the war in Europe. But I’d rather kill Japs anyway. Me and Clint are going into the Marines right after graduation. We’ll be hitting the beach in Japan and shooting all the little yellowbellies we can, and poor Reed will be stuck back here, still in school.”

  “Reed’s got time to get in on it, too,” Clint said. “It’s going to take a long time to mop up the Japs.”

  LaRue hated this kind of stuff: the way boys tried to take on such manly, know-it-all tones when they talked about the war. She had a notion she might be a better Jap killer than any of them if she only had her chance.

  “I just might go with you,” Reed said. LaRue saw the solemn, almost tragic look appear in his face.

  “Really, Reed?” Connie said. “Aren’t you going to stay around for your senior year?”

  “I don’t see how I can,” Reed said. He leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table, and cast his eyes down. “It just doesn’t seem right to be having a good time while so many boys are out there fighting and dying for our country. I’m afraid the war will end, and I’ll never get a chance to do my part.”

  “But East High needs you,” Evelyn said. “We won’t win at anything if you’re not here.”

  Reed looked up again—at LaRue, not at Evelyn. “I’ve thought about that,” he said. “I’ve tried to consider all the people I’ll let down, no matter what I do. But I just feel like it’s my country that needs me the most.”

  “I guess the war will end a lot sooner if you’re there,” LaRue said.

  LaRue had used a sincere tone, and it took Reed a few seconds to realize that she was making fun of him. But he took it well. He smiled and cocked his head a little to the side as he looked at her. “Let’s just say that with me and Clint and Rex there, we ought to be able to end things a year or two ahead of schedule.”

  Clint didn’t laugh the way the others did. He waited for a few seconds, and then he said, “Rex and I had to decide what to do last year. But we wanted to finish high school. If I were you, I’d do the same thing, Reed. Your senior year of sports is something you’ll never forget.”

  LaRue burst out laughing before she realized that no one else saw any humor in Clint’s comment. She looked around, still smiling, and then finally said, “I’m sorry. I just thought you were going to say something about graduating. But I guess to you guys, sports are what high school is all about.” She laughed again and then added, “You’ll always have that game last night to remember.”

  This was the worst thing LaRue could have said. The Leopards were in second place, and their chance for the championship had gone down the drain the night before when they had lost to Granite High. The boys had vowed, early in the evening, not to be glum about it, certainly not to talk about it.

  So there was a long silence, but Connie, who was an officer in the pep club, looked hurt. LaRue saw her put her hand on Clint’s hand and pat it a couple of times.

  Clint only gave LaRue a long, curious look. At six-foot-five he was the tallest boy on the team, the center. But LaRue thought he looked awkward on the court. She had grown up watching her brothers play, especially Gene, and she knew the grace of a really fine athlete.

  It was Reed who jumped in and tried to save LaRue. “Hey, we all put school first. All three of us want to get a college education when we come home. But to me—like our coach says—sports are just part of getting a four-square education. We have our academics, then our physical side, and—” He glanced at Rex. “What are the other two sides of that square he draws?”

  LaRue was the only one laughing again.

  “Social and spiritual,” Rex was saying, his voice reverent.

  “So is that what we’re doing tonight?” LaRue asked. “Filling in one side of the square? Maybe we should read the Book of Mormon for a little while now. Then you guys would be all squared up.”

  Evelyn was staring at LaRue as if to say, “What in the world are you talking about?” Or maybe even, “Fine talk for a stake president’s daughter.”

  Reed tried again. “I just feel like, to be a well-rounded person, you have to—”

  “I thought you were going for a square.”

  “What?”

  “How can you be well rounded and make this square you were telling me about?” LaRue took a sweeping look around the table, and she realized she was making a mess of things. It was time to back off. So she took hold of Reed’s arm and then said, trying to sound sincere, “Reed, I’m only teasing you. I think it’s great that you’re willing to give up sports for the sake of our country.”

  “Well, I haven’t made up my mind for sure. My parents still think I should wait another year.”

  It was all LaRue could do to keep a straight face this time. She knew that Reed would be out there on the football field next fall, not landing on any beaches.

  But then Reed said, “I guess you all know that LaRue’s brother Gene, one of the greatest East High athletes ever, lost his life as a Marine.”

  Of course they all knew. And of course they all nodded, with grave faces, but they didn’t have the slightest idea what they were doing. Gene’s death wasn’t inspiring; it was devastating. And she found it offensive that Reed would use it as part of the little act he and his f
riends were performing.

  But she let it go. These kids wouldn’t understand what she was talking about, even if she tried to explain. It wasn’t worth the effort. She danced some more, and after, when Reed dropped the others off before taking her home, she knew that she could expect the final scene of the play. Now that he had shown her what a fine young man he was, sincere and ready to sacrifice his life for Old Glory, he could surely expect her to kiss him goodnight.

  But she was still annoyed. She slipped quickly from his car so that he had to hurry just to catch up to her. And at the porch, as he moved in close, she joked with him, tried to keep him off balance.

  Still, he put his arms around her and said, “LaRue, you’re very special to me. If I do decide to go into the service this next year, I’ll miss you most of all.”

  She wanted to say, “Reed, I see through all this. I spent too many nights at the USO. I know all the lines.” But the truth was, she suddenly felt sorry for Reed. He was trying so hard. On an impulse, she decided to let him have his little victory. She looked up, turned her head so he had the correct angle, and let him kiss her. His lips were a little too tight, too hard; he wasn’t very good at kissing yet. Still, he seemed pleased with himself when he stepped back, looked her quickly in the eyes, and couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

  But after, when LaRue went inside, she was mad at herself. Why had she allowed a kiss when she didn’t really care that much for Reed? She had only done it to string him along, and she knew it. What did that make her? But she didn’t like the question, didn’t want to think about it, so she walked upstairs and went to bed.

  On Monday, LaRue saw Reed at school. By then, she wasn’t posing hard questions to herself. She teased him, touched his shoulder, leaned close, and whispered in his ear. And all those little techniques worked enormously well. His face got red, and he could hardly think what he was saying. If she had said, “Now, dear Reed, tie yourself in a knot for me,” he would certainly have gone to work on the project.

  But he had to get to basketball practice, and she was on her way out the front doors onto Thirteenth East. It was warm outside, for February, and she was glad to get out into the air. She was even glad for the walk home alone. She often walked with some girls from her neighborhood, but in her dawdling with Reed, she had missed that group today.

  She was walking rather leisurely when someone overtook her. “Hi, LaRue,” a deep voice said. She glanced up to see Cecil Broadbent step alongside her. He was a boy from her ward, a year older than she was, like Reed. She had known him all her life, and she sort of liked him, even though he was her opposite in most ways. He was something of an egghead—and a loner. He didn’t go to the high school games or dances, didn’t even join the science clubs. In Sunday School he would say nothing at all most of the time, but then, without warning, ask a question that would not only baffle but sometimes anger the teacher. “How can God listen to millions of prayers at the same time?” he had asked when he was maybe nine or ten, and the question had bothered LaRue ever since. She rarely prayed without wondering who else was on the line.

  “Hi, Cecil,” LaRue said. He was a tall boy, and his long legs were about to carry him on by, but LaRue, for reasons she didn’t really understand, said, “What’s your hurry?”

  “I’m not hurrying,” he said. “I’m just walking.” But he did slow down.

  “I guess you have to get right home so you can dive into a book.”

  Cecil smiled. He wasn’t a bad-looking boy, actually. He had mild problems with acne, and his eyebrows were a little too weighty and black, but he had straight, white teeth, and a wide smile that appeared suddenly, whenever it did appear. “It’s not fair to judge a fellow by his reputation,” he said. “For all you know, I have a great intrigue planned. I just might be on my way to Smokey Joe’s, where I play saxophone with a blues band.”

  “You’re right. I could have you all wrong. You might be another Baby-Face Nelson. You could have a bank heist scheduled.”

  Cecil laughed. “I’ll tell you the sad part—and now I’m going to let you in on something I usually don’t reveal.”

  She waited and smiled.

  “I have two books I’m reading right now. And I was just asking myself which one I wanted to dig into tonight, after I do my homework. So I guess my bad reputation is based on a certain degree of fact.”

  “What kinds of things do you read?”

  “Everything. Russian novels are my favorite. But I like history, too, and in my heart of hearts, I’m a scientist.”

  “Is that what you want to be?”

  “Yeah, I do. I’ll probably end up in chemistry or physics—something like that—when I go to college.”

  “What about the war?”

  “What about it?”

  “Won’t it keep you from going to college for a while?”

  Cecil let out a puff of air, and the steam blew away in the breeze. “I keep hoping the army will reject me—for some reason. I wish I weren’t so disgustingly healthy.”

  “Don’t you want to be in the service?”

  “Let’s see. This is a hard one. Do I want someone to shoot at me, throw hand grenades at me, drop bombs on me, or all of the above? I think I can live without those things, thank you very much.”

  “Hey, most of the guys your age can’t wait to get out there. That’s what they tell me, anyway.”

  Cecil laughed. “I can tell you believe every word of it, too.”

  “Cecil, how dumb do boys think girls are? They all want us to tell them what big, strong heroes they are. I’m sick of hearing it.”

  Cecil nodded, but now he was smiling, not laughing. “LaRue, I’ll never figure you out,” he said. “You’ve always known what’s really going on. But you go along with everything anyway. I remember in elementary school, that club that Beth Ellison and VerLynn Burney started. You made fun of the whole thing—and then you joined.”

  “And got myself elected president, too.”

  He laughed hard, and for a time he looked away, as though he were trying to think back to that time. “But why do you do that?” he asked.

  “If I play a game, I play to win.”

  “So is that what everything is to you? A game?”

  “What is it to you?”

  “I see the games. I just don’t play.”

  “You’re way too serious, Cecil. The games are what make life fun.”

  “No. I don’t buy that. I don’t think you do, either.” They had come to a corner, and a car was waiting at the stop sign. Cecil stopped and waved the driver on by. The man nodded his thanks and pulled on through, and then Cecil and LaRue crossed the street. “Sometimes you go too far, LaRue. It can’t possibly be worth the price of admission for this latest game you’ve gotten yourself into.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Going with Reed Porter.”

  “What’s the price?”

  “Having to spend time with him.”

  “Reed’s a nice boy.”

  “Reed is a very nice boy. But he’s never had an original thought in his life. He wouldn’t know one if it was chewing on his leg. He thinks football is life.”

  “Not now. It’s basketball season.”

  “True. I lose track of these things.”

  “That’s your own game, Cecil.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t play games you can’t win. You aren’t good at sports, and you don’t know how to be Mr. Popular, so you pretend you don’t care. But if you didn’t pay any attention to that stuff, you wouldn’t even know I was going with Reed.”

  Cecil shrugged and looked away.

  LaRue saw his confusion, and she knew she had him, but she was sorry that she had stabbed so deep. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. “Look, Cecil, I just don’t take things as seriously as you do. Reed is cute, and all the girls want to go out with him. So I want to be the one who wins. But I wouldn’t ever marry a guy like that. I couldn’t stand to be around him all my life.”
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br />   Cecil didn’t reply. LaRue worried that she had driven him back inside himself. He had never, as long as she had known him, said so much to her.

  LaRue glanced up toward Mount Olympus, where clouds, sheer as wedding veils, were clinging to the peak. The sky was blue otherwise, at least in the east. When she looked toward the valley, between the houses along the street, she could see a thick haze of rust-colored smoke hanging over the city. Dirty snow was piled up in melting mounds along the sidewalks. Something about the day was suddenly depressing even though she had felt rather cheerful when she had first come out of school.

  “You might be right. Maybe I am jealous of guys like Reed. But . . . things are about to change. When I get out of high school, brains will no longer be a disadvantage. I’m about to come into my own.” He smiled with satisfaction, and once again LaRue was struck with the idea that he wasn’t so bad looking when his face came to life.

  “Sorry to tell you this, but the University of Utah isn’t so different,” LaRue said. “They just play the games on a little higher scale over there. If you’re not in a fraternity or sorority, you’re nobody.”

  “Are you going to join one?”

  “I don’t know. Probably. I guess you never would?”

  “Naw. I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t even know how.”

  “Hey, if you need lessons, you’ve come to the right place.”

  “Tell me—seriously—how do you know what to do?”

  “Hey, it’s just instinct. You have it or you don’t.”

  He shook his head with obvious disgust, but she could see that he was actually rather intrigued.

  “Take clothes, for instance,” LaRue said. “It’s crucial to wear the latest things, but your timing has to be right. If you wait too long and then start wearing a certain outfit—even if it’s stylish—everyone knows you’re just copying the really ‘with it’ kids. I’m at the point now where I can buy something new and start a new trend—at least with the sophomore girls. Now that’s power. It’s almost liking changing the course of history.”

  “Wow. Important stuff.” He rolled his eyes.