by Lois Duncan
“I—tonight?” Lynn’s throat was dry. “Why—I didn’t know we had a date tonight”
“Well, of course, we do. Hey—” His blue eyes darkened. “This isn’t a run-around, is it Lynn? I told you on the phone that we’d go out tonight. I thought you said you weren’t still mad.”
“I’m not,” Lynn said quickly. “It’s not that I’m mad. It’s just—well, I already have a date for tonight.”
“You, what?” Paul stared at her. “Oh, come off it Lynn, I said I’m sorry. What more do you want me to do, grovel on the floor, begging you to go out with me?”
“No, I do have a date,” Lynn insisted. “I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t. It’s just that yesterday, right after I talked to you, while I was still angry, Dirk Masters called and—”
“Dirk Masters!” Paul exclaimed, jerking himself erect “Don’t tell me you’re dating that guy! Look here, Lynn, you can just call him back and tell him nothing doing. You’ve got a date with me for tonight and that’s that.”
“I’m sorry,” Lynn said again. “I would if I could but Paul, I can’t. I promised him. I can’t break it now, any more than you could break your date with Brenda last night.”
“It’s another thing entirely,” Paul said stiffly, getting to his feet. “Brenda’s a nice kid who needed an escort to a party. Dirk’s a tough little smart aleck who’s never been out with a decent girl in his life. If you think I’ll let you go out with a guy like that—”
“I’m afraid you don’t have much to say about it,” Lynn said shortly. “What makes you think you can boss me around, telling me what I can and can’t do? Just because I’m wearing your ring doesn’t mean you own me, body and soul.”
“Well, you won’t be wearing my ring for long,” Paul said angrily, “if you don’t start acting like your old self again. I know darned well the only reason you are going out with Dirk is to get even with me for taking Brenda to the party. Well, I told you I was sorry for that. I refused to take her out again. I don’t know what else you expect me to do about it.”
“I don’t expect you to do anything!” snapped Lynn.
“Well, fine,” Paul said. “Because I don’t intend to. The next step’s up to you. I’ve got some work to do on my car, before I can go any place tonight, so I’m going to go home and get at it. If you want to go out with me, you give me a call before noon. If I don’t hear from you by then, I’m going to call Mrs. Peterson back and tell her I will take Brenda tonight.”
“Which is probably what you want to do, anyway,” Lynn said bitterly.
But this time Paul did not even bother to answer.
Now everything is even worse than it was before, Lynn thought miserably, as she dressed for her date with Dirk that evening.
She had been sorely tempted to phone Paul. He had said he would wait for her until noon. All it would have taken to make things right between them was one little phone call.
But I couldn’t, Lynn told herself now, adjusting the belt to her dress and giving herself a last disinterested glance in the mirror. It’s not just a matter of pride. Paul is wrong, but I don’t mind being the one to try to patch things up. That’s what a girl is for. I couldn’t call off the date with Dirk, though, not after I promised him. Surely Paul could have understood that.
She thought about Dirk and the way it had been between them that night at his home—the way he had looked at her for the first time, a long look, without the usual mockery or defiance in his eyes; the sound of his voice when he said, “About the other evening—I’m sorry.”
She thought, I couldn’t break a date with him. Not after that. Why, that night we were almost friends. If I do something to hurt him now, all that will be lost. Any influence I have over him would be gone. I’d never be able to get through to him again and help him to be the kind of person he can be, if he tries.
And even through her misery about Paul, she felt a slight stirring of excitement at the idea of having the power to reform Dirk.
She tried to put Paul out of her mind as she went down the stairs to answer the doorbell.
As it happened, it was not Dirk who stood in the living room, talking to her parents, but Ronnie Turner. He stood up as Lynn entered. It was the first time Lynn had met him, and she was surprised at what a nice-looking boy he was, with his sandy hair and straightforward eyes. She knew he was several years younger than Dirk, but when she shook hands with him, she had the feeling that somehow he was much older. There was a steadiness about him and a kind of strength. When he and Dodie left together, he put his hand on her arm with a protective little gesture that made Dr. Chambers turn to his wife with a smile.
“Nice boy,” he commented briefly.
And she said, “Yes, I think he’ll be good for Dodie.”
A few moments later, the bell sounded again, and it was Dirk.
He was neatly dressed, with his hair carefully combed back from his forehead, instead of tumbled forward in its usual rakish manner. He was handsome, Lynn thought, as soon as she saw him—handsomer by far than Ronnie, or even than Paul. But she had the feeling when they left the house that her father would not turn to her mother after they were gone and say, “Nice boy.” She wondered exactly what he would say. It was hard to guess.
As they reached the street, Dirk took her arm and steered her to a car parked there.
“Brad’s car again?” Lynn asked. She could not keep the disapproval out of her voice.
“Sure,” Dirk said, a hint of the old mockery back in his voice as he climbed in beside her. “You don’t feel like walking, do you? You know, we all can’t have our own private limousine, like some guys I know.”
“Maybe not,” Lynn said, ignoring the implication, “but I wouldn’t have minded taking the bus. They’re kind of fun, really. I’d rather that than have you have to borrow a car from somebody like Brad.”
Dirk started up the engine and drove down the Hill Road. “What do you have against Brad? You’ve hardly met him.”
“Anne has told me about him.”
“Oh, Anne! Well, she’s just got a kind of thing on about him because he’s older than the other guys and has been around more. Anne’s like that.” He turned toward her with a sudden, almost pleading look. “Look, let’s not argue about anything tonight. I mean, I’ll try my darndest to act like you want me to, and you—well, why don’t you try to like me. I mean, really try.”
“That won’t be hard,” Lynn said. “I do like you. I’m sorry if I started right off being critical.”
Dirk pulled to a halt at the entrance to the River Road.
“What would you like to do? I know you don’t want to go any place like Charlie’s. What about a movie?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Lynn answered. “I guess a movie would be fine.” She did not feel particularly like seeing a movie, but she couldn’t think of anything else.
The movie, when they got there, was a dull one. Dirk did not suggest sitting in the balcony, probably because the rest of his crowd would be located there and he had promised Lynn that they would not be with them tonight. Instead, they sat down in front, in the only available seats, a little too close to the screen. They arrived in the middle of the picture, and it was almost over before Lynn began to understand what it was all about and by the time she did understand, she was too bored with it to care. It seemed much later than ten o’clock when they finally left the theater and got into the car.
Dirk asked, “Where to now?”
He sounded a little desperate. Lynn knew he was trying to give her a nice evening, and yet somehow it just wasn’t panning out. All she wanted to do was go home and go to bed. The scene with Paul that morning had left her spent and exhausted emotionally, but of course, Dirk had no way of knowing this. If she asked to go home now, he would think it was because of him, and with all the effort he was making, she did not want him to think that Lynn suggested, “Why don’t we just drive a little while?”
Dirk seemed pleased. “O.K. That’s what I wanted to do mysel
f, only I didn’t think you’d want to.”
He drove slowly. When he passed the entrance to the Hill Road, Lynn could see the Peterson house, brightly lighted with all the gaiety of a party. There was a string of cars parked outside, leading all the way down the street and several others were just pulling up. A crowd of young people stood on the sidewalk outside the house, gathered around what must have been their collection of “treasures.” Lynn caught sight of a broad-shouldered boy bent a little forward, talking to a girl. In the darkness, she could not tell who it was, but there was something about the way the boy was standing, with his head cocked a little to one side, that made her think of Paul.
She thought it could be Paul! And the girl could be Brenda! And if it isn’t—well, what difference does it make? He’s there with her some place.
There was an ache in her chest almost too great to bear.
Oh, Paul, she thought miserably. Oh, Paul!
Dirk was giving her a funny look. “Is anything the matter?”
“What?” Lynn shook her head. “Oh, no. I was just noticing the party at the Petersons’. It’s supposed to be a treasure hunt tonight. It looks like it might be a good one.”
“Oh!” Dirk was still looking at her sideways. “Your fellow—the one you go with—the Kingsley boy. How come you’re not going out with him? He’s home now, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he’s home,” Lynn said wearily. “He might as well not be, though. All we’ve done since he got here is fight.”
Dirk said, “Are you wearing his ring, by any chance?”
Lynn put her hand up and felt for the chain. It was there, as it always was, light and warm around her neck, with the weight of the ring swinging beneath her blouse. She thought of Paul’s words when he gave it to her. “You’re my girl. We’ve got something between us worth hanging onto.”
But we don’t, she thought miserably. Not any more. I’m not his girl, and we don’t have anything between us at all.
She reached up with both hands and unfastened the little chain and drew it from around her neck. Then she opened her pocketbook and dumped both chain and ring inside.
“There,” she said quietly. And then, suddenly, through the calm and composure, came the tears. Her eyes stung with the salty drops. She shut them tightly, but the tears pushed their way out from under her lashes.
Dirk said, “Don’t, please!” He pulled the car to the side of the road and shut off the engine. He said, “Please, Lynn—”
He moved over and put his arm around her, not the way he had before, but with a hesitant gentleness. Lynn pressed her face against his shoulder, trying to stop the tears. But she could not. They came anyway.
“I’m s-sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m s-so ashamed of myself. Here I am out with y-you—and you’ve been so nice to me—and I act like this. But oh, Dirk, when you go with somebody—and he’s really special—and then you break up—”
“I know,” Dirk said quietly. “I know what it is to—to care about somebody—and not have it work. Go ahead and cry, if it’ll make you feel any better. I don’t care.”
And now, because it was all right to cry, Lynn immediately found that she no longer wanted to. The pain was still there, and the emptiness, but there were no more tears. She sat very quietly, acutely conscious of Dirk’s arm around her shoulders. She felt as though it did not belong there, but there was not much she could do about it. And it was comforting, in a way. She let herself relax against him, and he tightened his arm a little, and she found it was really not unpleasant at all.
“I’ve got a job,” Dirk said suddenly. “In Burton’s Garage, after school and on Saturdays.”
“You do?” Lynn said, surprised. “Why, that’s grand.”
“I thought you’d be glad,” Dirk said. He hesitated, and when he spoke again, his voice was a little shaky. “Look, Lynn, I know I’m not the kind of guy you’re used to going with. Not like Kingsley, for instance. It’s not just that I don’t have the things they have, the nice cars and coming from the Hill and all. I know I’ve done some things I shouldn’t have done. I don’t know how to say this—”
“Don’t,” Lynn said, suddenly nervous. “Don’t go on, Dirk. You don’t have to say this to me.”
“Yes, I do. I want to.” His words came out in a kind of rush. “Look, Lynn, I’m going to try. I swear I am. I’m going to keep straight and go around with the right kind of fellows and keep out of trouble. I want to be the kind of guy you’d be proud to go with.”
“Dirk; don’t!” Lynn reached up, trying to put her hand over his lips. This was what she had wanted, that he should reform because of her, and yet, now that he was actually saying it, the responsibility was oddly terrifying.
“No,” she said, “not just for me. For yourself, for your father, for Anne—”
“For you,” Dirk said. He moved his arm from around her shoulders, and Lynn drew away in relief.
Dirk reached forward and opened the glove compartment of the car. He took out a small cardboard box.
“This is for you,” he said. “A Christmas present.”
“Why, it’s not Christmas yet,” Lynn reminded him nervously. She took the box in her hands. “Do you—do you want me to open it?”
Dirk nodded. “I know it’s not Christmas but I want you to have it now. Especially since you’re not wearing that chain and ring any longer.”
The little box was not wrapped. Lynn lifted the lid easily. She caught her breath as she saw the string of pearls which lay inside.
“Oh, Dirk, how beautiful!” And in almost the same breath, “I can’t accept anything like this!”
“Sure you can. It’s just a Christmas present. All guys give their girls Christmas presents.”
Lynn opened her mouth to say, “But I’m not your girl. And even if I were—” But she had no chance to shape the words, for Dirk was still talking, his voice very earnest, an open, defenseless look on his face that made him look very, very young.
“This was my mother’s. Her folks gave it to her on her twenty-first birthday, and Dad would never let her sell it, even when the going was toughest. He said he wanted her to have something nice, even if he wasn’t the one to give it to her. After she married Dad, her folks never gave her anything again.” He took a deep breath. “She left it to me. She left the rest of her stuff to Anne, but this was for me, so I’d have something to give to the ‘right girl’ when I found her. I didn’t have the nerve to give it to you before, so I thought I’d keep it for Christmas. Everybody gives things at Christmas. And now you’re not going with Kingsley any longer—”
His voice broke, and he leaned forward so that his face was buried against her hair.
“I know I can’t give you the kind of things he must have been able to. But I want you to have this. Please—I’ll probably never have anything as nice to give you again.”
Lynn closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the back of the seat.
She thought, what should I do? I know I shouldn’t accept a present like this, especially from Dirk. I’m not in love with him, and it would not mean what he wants it to mean, and it’s much too expensive a present. But how can I say no? It would hurt him terribly.
“All right,” she said at last. “I will keep it. And thank you so much, Dirk. It’s one of the most beautiful things I have ever owned.”
He put his arms around her, and she knew he was going to kiss her, and she knew she could not draw away. Not now. Not even with the tears about Paul not quite dry on her cheeks.
“I love you,” Dirk whispered. “Please, please try to love me too.”
There was something terrifying in having a boy like this, a hard, tough boy, suddenly weak before her, clinging to her in a kind of desperation.
She thought, I don’t want this. Please, please, I don’t want this.
But she sat very still beside him, and when he kissed her, she wanted to cry—for him, and for her, too. And she thought Paul—Paul—
10
Th
e house was very quiet when Lynn got in. The only downstairs light was the one left burning for her in the hall, and she realized with a start that her mother and father must already be in bed.
Her first feeling was one of relief. She was sure that something of the night’s happenings must show on her face, and she was glad that she would not have to face her mother until morning. On second thought, however, she almost wished her mother was up waiting for her, for then she would be forced to show her the necklace and tell her about the evening, and somehow the telling of it would be a relief.
She climbed the stairs slowly, hesitating beside her parents’ half-open door.
“Lynn?” It was her father’s voice, muffled with sleep.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Didn’t want to go to sleep till you got in. You’re late, Daughter.”
“Yes, I know.” She searched desperately in her mind for some excuse. She could think of none. “We—we just got talking, and I lost track of time. I’m sorry.”
“If you’re mature enough to be dating, you’re mature enough not to lose track of time.” Her father yawned. “Oh, well, we’ll hash it over in the morning. Get to bed now.”
“Yes, Daddy. Good night.”
Lynn continued down the hall, grateful that her father had been too tired for a real scolding this evening. By morning, he might have forgotten the hour she arrived home.
And then, at the entrance to their shared bathroom, she ran into the one person she definitely did not want to see—her sister.
“Hi!” Dodie said “Have you seen Daddy? He’s simply livid because you’re so late getting home. What on earth were you doing so late?”
“None of your business,” Lynn retorted. And then, “What are you doing up, anyway, if it’s so late?”
“Putting up my hair,” Dodie said. “It always takes me a long time, and Ronnie likes it curly.” She gave her sister a sharp glance. “You’ve been crying.”
