“Hi, Susie.” He hadn’t recognized her voice. It was Susie Boardman, Hesta’s roommate.
“She’s going to be so angry when she finds out you called and she missed you.” Susie had this funny voice, clipped and sort of British-sounding. Hesta said she was hyperintelligent. Thomas had never met Susie face-to-face; they were telephone acquaintances.
“What time is she getting here tomorrow?”
“Dinner, I suppose. Isn’t that when the bus is to arrive?”
“Yeah,” said Thomas, “but can she get a ride earlier?”
“Sorry about that. She’s got a swim meet.”
Damn. Thomas had forgotten about her swim meet.
“You can entertain me until she gets there,” said Susie.
Then she laughed, but Thomas felt a pleasant stirring. What was he, some rock star or something? All these women seemed to crave his body.
He had one distasteful chore to perform. Was Staines still expecting him to arrange a date for him? And should he? Wouldn’t he be acting like a hypocrite, arranging a date for the guy he had just turned over to the councilmen for an honor violation? On the other hand, if Staines got acquitted, wouldn’t setting him up with a date show that Thomas had no personal grudge against him?
“Susie?”
“Yes?” she said, in her mock operator voice.
“Do you know Katrina Olson?”
“What do you want with her?”
“This guy I know at school wants to go out with her.”
“It’s too late,” said Susie. “She’s got a date with all of the Washington Redskins.”
“That’s fine,” said Thomas. At least he had tried.
“I’m kidding,” said Susie. “Actually, she’s going to be down at the mixer this weekend with Stud-of-All-Studs Robert Staines.”
“What?”
“He called her last night. You should have heard what she promised to do to him. Such a nasty, nasty girl.”
“He was the one that wanted to go out with her,” said Thomas.
“He got his wish,” said Susie.
“Yeah,” said Thomas. “And he’ll probably get herpes on Saturday.”
Susie giggled. They hung up the telephone anticipating a memorable weekend.
Susie thought about what she would wear. Thomas thought about what he would try.
SCENE 17
Thomas had thought his morning classes were dull, but they were nothing compared to having to sit and listen to Robert Staines at the training meal on Saturday morning.
“You should see her thighs,” he said for the fifth time. “The thighs are perfect. And you should see her smooth stomach muscles.”
It was 11:30 on game day. The twelve guys on the basketball team were eating roast beef on bread with gravy, mashed potatoes, and canned peas. It was the meal every athletic team at Montpelier ate before a game. They would play at 2:00 today. The varsity would play afterward at 3:30. Thomas was nervous. It was their first game of the season. Coach McPhee had told him that he wouldn’t be starting but that he’d probably play a lot. He had taken maybe two bites of roast beef and had stirred the gravy around in his potatoes, but he couldn’t remember what it was like to be hungry. He just wanted the game to get here. And now Staines was telling the same story about catching Mr. and Mrs. Warden in the act last night. It was all getting on Thomas’s nerves.
“Why’d you go upstairs?” asked Ralph Musgrove.
“That’s where they were,” said Staines.
“I never would have gone upstairs in a teacher’s house,” said Ralph.
“I thought he was alone. Everybody was talking about how Mrs. Warden was in the hospital. So when I heard his voice up there, I just ran up the stairs. You should have seen old Red Label squirming around trying to cover up the old secret spot.”
“Shut up, Staines,” said Thomas.
Staines asked what his objection was.
“Just let somebody else talk for a while, okay?” Thomas wanted to say that he liked the Wardens, that he didn’t like to hear Mr. Warden’s birthmark made fun of, that he didn’t like to hear Mrs. Warden discussed in such vulgar terms. But he couldn’t say all that at the damn lunch table in front of everybody, and he couldn’t sit there and listen to any more of it either.
“Okay,” said Staines. “Only you seem to be the only one here who’s complaining.”
Nobody else at the table spoke.
“You make it sound like Mrs. Warden is a whore,” said Thomas.
“Let me tell you something about women, Mr. Rogers,” said Staines. “They all want it. You hear all these fairy tales about beautiful princesses saving themselves for the handsome prince who will marry them? That’s bull. They’ll tell you they don’t want it, but they do. And old Red Label was about to deliver the pepperoni when I interrupted.”
“They’re married,” said Thomas. “You make it sound like animals breeding.”
“Marriage doesn’t matter,” said Staines. “You think it’s some spiritual experience? My dad’s been married four times. He’s taught me all about women. You know how you daydream about it? Girls dream about it, too. They spend their lives waiting to get popped.”
“Not all girls are like that,” said Thomas. He wished somebody else at the table would speak up.
“Maybe the ones you hang around with,” said Staines. “No wonder you’re still a virgin, Boatwright. You hang around with den mothers.”
Thomas replied that he ought to hang around with Staines’s mother if he wanted to get anywhere.
Staines lunged for him, and they would have gotten into a fight right there if Mr. Delaney and two councilmen hadn’t been at the next table.
Thomas spent the next hour in his dorm room fantasizing about pounding Staines’s face in. Apparently the stupid beanie-brain had forgotten all about the Right Guard episode. Staines thought he was safe. He’d find out differently Sunday night. Thomas was glad the councilmen knew. And even if Staines did get acquitted and did get to stay at school, Thomas could live without the guy’s approval.
In the locker room nobody said much while they were getting dressed. Coach McPhee reviewed the offense and their starting defense with them, and then it was time to warm up, and then the
