He groaned. How could he have imagined she'd go this far? He should have remembered how curious about sex he had been as a child. All children were. From the days they first opened their eyes. Children had a right to know how their own bodies worked. Especially about sex. It was so easy to foul oneself up. To ruin one's life by making the wrong sexual moves. He was an authority on that.
Physically, the sex probably had not really harmed her, but psychologically, had she been harmed? All night long he examined his uneasy conscience. But he knew the answer was a foregone conclusion. When Louise found out — and she would — that would be the end. It was just a matter of time. So he sat and admired the beauty and the innocence of his daughter until morning. With the first streaks of dawn, he said goodbye to her in his heart and left the room, closing the door softly so as not to disturb her.
Mrs. Fleming rapped lightly on her son's bedroom door. 'Douglas. It's such a lovely day. Won't you play badminton with me?'
'No, thanks, Mom,' Doug called back.
Mrs. Fleming turned to leave, then hesitated. He'd hardly left his room the past two weeks. Went in there and laid on his back looking up at the ceiling. Ever since that scandal about the Marlowe girl. Did he have anything to do with it? Not for a minute could she take her question seriously. Her son wouldn't do awful things like that. And yet. Why was he acting so unlike himself? And what had been that special research project that he'd mentioned once or twice before. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. She knew it in her bones.
Decisively she turned and rapped on the door again. 'Douglas. I'm coming in.'
She opened the door and saw he was lying on his bed, as usual looking up at the ceiling. She sat on the foot of his bed and looked at him. 'You've been acting strange lately. Not like yourself at all.' She pleaded, 'Can't you tell me what's wrong?'
Douglas jerked his body away from her and turned his face to the wall. 'There's nothing wrong, Mother.'
She looked at him. 'But I know there is.'
'Leave me alone,' Douglas muttered.
'What did you say?' his mother asked.
He turned his head toward her and said coldly and very distinctly, 'Leave me alone.'
Quick tears sprang into her eyes. That her own son should ever treat her so meanly. That he should keep her out of his life. She, who had always tried to do her best for him. To teach him independence and self-reliance and to be considerate of all living things.
Maybe B.C. and I did too good a job, she thought sadly. He already wants to shut us out of his life at the age of only fourteen. But she couldn't shake off the feeling that he was fighting a desperate problem. That he needed help or comfort.
She looked at him compassionately, patting his ankle with a hand. 'You know your father and I are always ready to help you, Douglas.'
Doug didn't respond in any way.
She leaned over to look at his face. 'You do trust us, don't you?' she asked insistently.
'Yes,' he said wearily.
They both sat quietly for several minutes, absorbed in their own thoughts.
Finally his mother spoke. 'If it has anything to do with the Marlowe girl, you should tell us.'
Doug's body tensed but he said nothing.
'You know, Douglas,' she said in a conversational tone, 'We didn't let you go to the sex classes at school because we thought we could tell you about sex better than the teachers could. We wanted you to develop a healthy attitude about it. To see it as a natural part of life, not as something dirty or nasty. We answered your questions honestly when you were a little boy, though some of the answers were incomplete. I don't think we've been too prudish. Some things small children don't understand. We've tried to satisfy your curiosity as you grew up. But, in the past year, you've grown up a lot and you've stopped asking us questions.'
She looked at him, waiting for a response but he gave none.
She made up her mind to be nosy. 'I want to know one thing, Douglas,' she said in a no-nonsense tone. 'Were you one of the boys in Angie's room when her parents came home?'
After a pause, Doug said quietly, 'No.'
A welcome feeling of relief passed over her, but her curiosity wouldn't let her stop. 'Were you ever in her room?'
She held her breath, waiting for him to reply. The answer was along time coming.
His voice hoarsely croaked, 'Yes.'
His mother's mind went racing, trying to figure out all that his admission implied. Could he have been one of the gang of boys? No! Not her boy. What was he doing there then? Did he go there alone? She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She said quietly. 'If there is anything you want to tell your father or me, or both of us, please feel free to confide in us anytime.'
Doug lay still and didn't reply.
Mrs. Fleming got up and started to leave. 'You want to be alone so I'll go now,' she said, half in anger and half in sorrow.
That evening, after her husband had eaten and rested, she brought up the subject with him privately. 'B.C., I'm afraid Doug is mixed up with that Marlowe girl scandal.'
'Did he say so?'
'No. Not in so many words,' she admitted. Then she explained her fears to him and recounted her conversation with Doug that afternoon.
Mr. Fleming puffed on his pipe. 'So he admitted he had been in her room at some time,' he said speculatively.
After thinking over the problem for awhile, he told her his decision. 'If Doug is mixed up in the sorry business, his conscience will punish him more than any punishment we could inflict on him. There is only one thing. I think he should attend the trial. Whatever happens there, he will have to live with.' He sighed deeply and after a moment asked, 'Do you want to tell him or should I?'
'I started it,' his wife said reasonably, 'let me finish it.'
The jailer herded the boys into a medium-sized room. They saw Angie sitting, listening to an excitable dark- haired young man. They went down to join them.
'Ah, here we all are,' the young man said, rubbing his hands together. 'My name is Klein. I'm the lawyer your parents retained to defend you. Got that?'
Everyone nodded.
'As soon as we get the preliminaries over,' he went on, 'identify each other, we can get down to particulars.' When he had satisfied himself as to who each one was, he moved on to other questions. 'I want you to tell me, in your own words exactly, what happened on that particular Friday night that you were interrupted by Dr. Marlowe. One at a time.'
The boys took turns giving their stories. Chuck ended. 'It was the first time I'd been there. I don't even live in this town.'
'First time, eh?' Mr. Klein asked. 'Who else was there for the first time?'
The other boys identified themselves.
'Who's been there from the first?' he asked.
Brad, Jim, and Scott raised their hands.
'You were the ones who began these games?' Klein asked.
They all shook their heads. 'No, sir.'
Amazed, he asked, 'Then who did?'
Both Jim and Scott pointed at Brad. 'He told us about it. Took us there.'
Brad turned red. 'I didn't start it. Doug Fleming did.'
'Did he take you there?' Mr. Klein asked.
'No, sir,' Brad replied. 'Angie invited me. I came by myself. Then Doug came. He showed me what they'd been doing.'
'Then what did you do?' Mr. Klein asked.
