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turning all colours.”
    Sure enough, tomorrow it would be a beautiful shiner. I found my tongue. “Jeeze, Marty, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you so hard.” I helped him to his feet.
    “It couldn’t be helped,” he said and laughed.
    Julie, hearing the noise, came into the room. “You’d better put a cold towel on it,” she said, “or it’ll swell up.”
    He shook off his gloves. “O.K.,” he said, “we’ll have another lesson soon.” At the door he turned to me and said: “Wait here, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
    They left the room and a few seconds later I heard the water running in the bathroom. I still had my gloves on. Julie picked up the gloves Marty had dropped on the floor.
    “Can I try them on?” she asked.
    “Go ahead. They’re not mine,” I answered.
    She put them on. “They’re very clumsy,” she said. “You get used to them,” I said.
    “My father said I should’ve been a boy,” she said. “I was always a tomboy.” I didn’t answer.
    “Show me how to box, Frankie,” she said. “Not really—I mean just an idea.” “O.K.,” I said.
    “But don’t hit me,” she said quickly. “I’m so afraid of getting hurt—especially here.” She put her hands under her breasts and pushed them up.
    I looked and then gulped out an answer. “All right, just swing at me a few times and then well quit.”
    She held her arms out funny-like and took a couple of swings at me. They missed, and then she stepped in close and swung. I blocked them and then stepped in and clinched. She caught my arms under her elbows and locked them against her sides. I could feel her close to me. This fighting with a girl had a bad effect on me. It was too exciting—the wrong way.
    “You’re very strong,” she said, pressing herself against me.
    I looked up at her. She was a little taller than I—black hair and wide, full mouth. Her eyes looked funny-like. We stood there a second and suddenly became aware that Ruth was in the doorway looking at us. We broke loose immediately.
    I flushed. “She wanted me to show her how to box too,” I said lamely. I could feel my ears burning.
    “A regular Gene Tunney, aren’t you?” Ruth said bitingly. “Martin wants you.”
    I took off the gloves and gave them to Julie, then followed Ruth into Martin’s room. He was stretched out in bed with a cold towel on his eye.
    “I’m sorry this happened, Frankie. But meet me over at my father’s store tomorrow and we’ll get together again.”
    “O.K., Marty,” I said. “I’m sorry I hurt you. See you tomorrow.” I turned and left.
    Ruth followed me to the door. She held it open for me and I stepped out. “Good night, Ruth,” I said.
    “Good night,” she said and started to close the door behind me. Halfway she stopped. “Would you like to do me a favour?” she asked.
    “Sure,” I said.
    “Then stay away from my brother. You’re cheap and filthy and rotten, and you’ll only spoil him.” She clipped the words out savagely and shut the door in my face.
    I started to walk slowly down the hallway.
    “Psst.” I heard someone call out. I looked up. It was Julie standing in another doorway in front of me.
    I looked back at the door I had just come out of, and wondered what she was doing in the other doorway.
    “Come here,” she whispered fiercely. She motioned with her arm. I followed her through the door. It led into the kitchen of Martin’s apartment and then through the kitchen into a small room on the far side of it away from the rest of the apartment. She closed the door behind us.
    “This is my room,” she whispered. “Be quiet.”
    She was telling me to be quiet. Hell, I was so excited I couldn’t speak—only look at her. She flicked out the light and walked towards me. She put her arms around me and kissed me. I could feel her tongue flicker in and out against my lips, her hands against my body. I could feel my hands running over her, and she fell back on the small