Doug and Angie were lying on the grass in the quadrangle. Too soon the bell would ring and they'd have to go to classes. But for now they could lay close together, enjoying the nearness of their bodies.
'You know what time I hate the most?' Angie asked.
'What?'
'Friday night.'
'Wha-at?'
Angie slipped her hand down between their bodies and put it on his crotch. 'Because I know it'll be a whole seven days before we can make love again.'
'Don't do that here,' Doug said alarmed. He looked around to see if anyone was looking at them. No one seemed to be.
'We shouldn't be ashamed of being in love,' Angie protested.
'Angie,' Doug said disapprovingly. 'You know how people are. They'll say we're too young anyway. They don't think we ought to know anything about it. Or to feel any desire.'
'We ought to invite them over on Friday night,' Angie said playfully. 'Can't you see Mr. Bailey and my mother watching us make love?' She started laughing loudly at the thought.
'Shhh! Someone will hear,' Doug cautioned.
'No one's even near us.'
'Brad's coming over this way.'
Angie made a face. 'I hope he doesn't start a fight again. Don't fight with him. For any reason.'
'Take it easy. No sense in looking for trouble.'
'Hi, there, you two,' Brad called as he approached them. 'Been having a lot of sex lately?'
'Is that al you ever think of?' Doug asked.
'Got a better topic?' Brad asked.
'I would think an operator like you would have,' Angie put in.
'With you, it would be dishonorable to think of anything else,' Brad said mockingly, as he flopped down on the grass beside her.
Angie laughed scornfully. 'What a line!'
'Mamzelle, you wound me!' Brad exclaimed, melodramatically. He clapped a hand over his heart, threw himself flat on the grass, and pretended to be dead.
Angie laughed in spite of herself.
Mary Jane and two of her friends came over, attracted by Brad.
'O, Angie,' Mary Jane exclaimed. 'Are you coming to the dance tonight?'
'No, I'm busy Friday nights,' Angie said casually.
'Oh, you should come,' Mary Jane squealed. 'We had so much fun last time. Didn't we, girls?'
The girls chorused the affirmative.
A bell rang to signify the end of the lunch period and the resumption of classes.
Doug got up. 'Well, I must be off.'
'Bye now,' Angie smiled secretively to him.
Brad sat up. He took in Angie's smile and looked appraisingly at Doug as he walked away.
'Brad, are you coming to the dance tonight?' Mary Jane gushed.
'Not if I can find something better to do.' He narrowed his eyes and looked at Angie.
She looked at him wide-eyed.
'You've been looking good lately,' Brad said to Angie. He turned to the other girls. 'Don't you think so?'
'She sure has,' Mary Jane said. She looked enviously at Angie.
To her chagrin, Angie blushed.
'You do,' Brad insisted. 'Maybe it's because you have a boyfriend now.'
Angie's chin went up haughtily. 'He's just a friend.'
'Friend or not, it's made a change in you,' Brad said.
'How?' Angie asked.
'Ohh,' Brad searched for words. 'You're happier — more approachable.'
'Oh, I'm not,' Angie protested.
'I'd like to get to know you better,' Brad said confidently. 'When can I come over? Tonight?'
'No,' Angie objected. 'Tonight is Friday.'
'So?' Brad smiled enigmatically. 'What's so sacred about Friday?'
'Nothing,' Angie replied. 'It's just that I already have plans for tonight.'
'Why can't I be included?' Brad persisted.
'Because why should I change my plans?' Angie said mockingly.
'Because you'd like to take pity on a poor homeless bachelor,' Brad mocked back at her.
Mary Jane and her friends clustered around Angie, obviously impressed by Brad's pursuit of her.
Angie preened, proud to be the center of attention. 'What would we do if you did come over?' she asked tentatively.
'What you usually do,' Brad said boldly, his face expressionless. He added, 'We could play records.'
'Maybe you could come over for a little while,' Angie said carelessly, with a guarded glance at the girls. She was rewarded with envious expressions on their faces.
'What time?'
'7:30,' Angie said. Then she thought for a moment. 'No, better make it 8.'
Brad studied her face. 'Not 7:30. 8.'
That afternoon, after school, Angie went straight home and went to her bedroom and laid on her bed and began to worry about what she had done. What if Brad found out about what she and Doug were doing? He'd probably tell and then she'd be in a mess. Her mother would die from the shock. It was dangerous to let him come. Maybe she should call him and tell him not to come? The envious faces of Mary Jane and her girlfriends came into her memory. Their avid glances and rapt attention to her verbal tongue-of-war with Brad pleased her all over again. They had walked with her to her classroom afterwards, chatting with her like old friends. Her dreams of friendship were coming true.
Her mind was rationalizing. Why not let Brad come? It would be a joke on Doug. They would talk and play records for a while and then they'd send him home early. She and Doug could make love afterwards. She could have the best of everything.
Finally, she heard her name being called.
'Angelica.'
It was her mother calling! What did she want?
'Angelica!'
'Yes, Mother.'
'Open your door.'
Angie swung off the bed, padded to the door and opened it a crack.
'Yes?' Angie asked.
'Aren't you going to let me in?' he mother asked, somewhat uncertainly.
Angie stepped back and opened the door wider. Now what? she asked herself. The occasions her mother visited her room were in frequent. Angie stood, waiting.
Mr. Marlowe seemed uneasy. She kept prowling about the room, seemingly unable to settle down. The silence grew strained. Embarrassing. Angie determined not to break it. Let her. She invaded my room. I didn't ask her to come.
'Well,' Mrs. Marlowe said nervously. She cleared her throat loudly. 'I've — I've been thinking. About what you asked me. And — and I think it's time you did know-some things,' she ended lamely. She stopped, confused, and look at the floor.
Angie watched her mother with clear eyes. She supposed she should feel sorry for her but all she could feel was indifference and, yes, pity. If she could only see what a pitiful spectacle she was making of herself!
