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little bit,” she admitted.
    â€œI figured.”
    â€œThese on my neck are rolled real tight.”
    Neither Bingo nor Melissa had spoken—Bingo because he couldn’t, Melissa because she wouldn’t. She was still standing just outside the front door, turned sideways.
    Bingo had been looking at her ever since she came outside, but she had continued to look down at her shoes.
    Bingo glanced at her shoes himself to see what was so fascinating. They weren’t her old shoes. They were new and, as he had expected, larger in size.
    Then he looked up so quickly he caught her looking at him. But at once she looked away, and he did, too. He had an uneasy, guilty feeling, as if he were back in Puritan times, when even a look was illegal.
    â€œWait till you see me tomorrow,” Weezie said to Wentworth in a flirtatious manner. “You’ll think it was worth it.”
    â€œNothing’s worth putting them doohickeys on your head for. I wouldn’t put them things on my head if it would make me look like Arnold Schwarzenegger.”
    Weezie laughed through her nose. Bingo’s mother had been right. She did snort.
    Bingo slowly raised his eyes to Melissa’s face. She, too, had just raised her eyes to Bingo’s face, but again she looked away. This time Bingo fixed his eyes on her face in a manly manner. He would not look away, no matter what.
    â€œBoys do get home perms these days,” Weezie told Wentworth.
    â€œWell, that’s so fascinating I’ll write that down in my diary tonight.”
    â€œThey do!”
    â€œNot me!”
    â€œYou could.”
    â€œNo way!”
    â€œWhy not? You’d be cute with curly hair.”
    â€œI ain’t denying that.”
    â€œYou buy the home perm and I’ll give you one. I’ve got the curlers.”
    â€œNo way.”
    â€œPlease.”
    â€œNo! Now, I’m not getting no home permanent, no matter how much you beg.”
    Bingo couldn’t believe what was happening. Here he was—the master of mixed-sex conversations—unable to speak a word. And here was Wentworth sounding like he had invented mixed-sex conversations.
    A small silence followed, and Bingo heard Melissa exhale.
    When Bingo heard that, he knew that she had been holding her breath. He had been doing the exact same thing.
    This gave him courage. Now was the time to speak. He moistened his dry lips.
    His stomach rumbled like a volcano.
    It could not possibly have happened at a worse moment. This stomach growl could only make Melissa think he was hungry. Then she would remember his love letter for eternity in which he had written so eloquently of the hunger of love. And she would not linger over the poignant closing—“Hungrily yours.” She would go directly on to remember that she had received the Xerox of that letter.
    Then she would go in the house.
    So he had to speak. Otherwise, he had made this long, tortuous, burp-ridden trip for nothing. He would say something simple and truthful.
    â€œI was surprised to see you in Health Supplies yesterday.”
    â€œOh, hi, Bingo.”
    Encouraged, Bingo went up two steps. “Hi. I was getting ready to write you a letter.”
    â€œWere you?”
    â€œYes. Only then I saw you and I knew I didn’t need to write. I could just tell you.”
    â€œTell me what?”
    Bingo felt as if he were talking to a stranger. “Things.”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œWell, for one thing, remember the last letter I wrote?”
    â€œI don’t remember. It’s been so long. I haven’t gotten a letter in three months.”
    â€œMe either.”
    â€œOh, I do remember. It was Xeroxed.”
    â€œYes, but—”
    â€œBecause it was the first Xeroxed letter I ever got.”
    â€œI can explain that.”
    â€œAnd you don’t forget Xeroxed letters.”
    â€œApparently not.”
    â€œThey’re like—so impersonal—like, I