have had breasts at that age, and therefore he would not have noticed her at all. The truth was that Eva was a woman whatever her years, and they were being kept apart only by some phony theory: so, in the privacy of his room, when the lights were out, did he sometimes believe, only to see it differently on awakening in the realistic morning.
On the following Friday evening Tony was back in Millville again, and this time he was not the only Horn-becker at the park dance. Bill Plunkett and Wally Hines, classmates of his, stood at the edge of the concrete slab, staring sullenly at the dancers. He thought he might slip behind them without attracting their attention, but no such luck: Wally was scraping one heel, to free it of gum or dogshit, and he lifted it for inspection, looking down over his shoulder and then raising his eyes just as Tony came into range.
“Hey, there’s Tony Beeler,” he said to Plunkett, but speaking toward Tony, and Plunkett turned and said, “Hi, Tony. You slumming too?”
Tony had no choice but to join them, as dreary a prospect as that was: they weren’t even particular friends of his, just guys in the same class, and Hines had blackheads in his nose and Plunkett looked like he might have bad breath, his teeth being of a dingy hue. Encountering them in Hornbeck, Tony would have been only acting naturally if he gave them a nod and a wide berth. They would have expected no better, not being his close associates. But the code of normality—which he was already secretly defying in his search for Eva Bullard—ordained that loyalty must be extended to compatriots when on alien ground, and even your enemy at home would be first a fellow American if you came across him in China.
Plunkett said, “Lotsa pigs in this town.” He wrinkled his nose and tossed his head. His hair had been combed with a lot of water and had dried hard, with the comb-tracks still showing.
“I don’t know, though, what you’d want with nookie,” Plunkett told Hines, “because you’re a big fruit.”
“Oh, yeah?” Wally rejoined, punching the arm that Bill raised, biceps distended, for just that purpose. “You’re a big fairy.”
“Well,” Tony said, “I didn’t know about this dance here. I got to go and do some things for my dad. I’ll see you guys.” He started away.
“Hey, wait,” Plunkett said. “You going back home? We’ll go with you.”
Tony had never had much reason to be guileful, and the only thing he could come up with now by way of discouragement was: “Naw, I got to go in the other direction.”
Hines said, “Hell, that’s Coontown, Tony. What are you gonna do for your old man over there? You got some relatives who are boogies?” He howled and slapped his thigh.
What bad luck to run into these two lousy guys! Tony couldn’t let Hines’s insult go unchallenged. He squared off in front of him.
“I don’t like the way you talk, Hines,” he said. “You want me to take off my glasses?”
The color left Wally’s face. He said, “I was just kidding. I didn’t mean it.”
Plunkett looked miserable. “Come on, Tony. He was just kidding. He ain’t saying you got jig blood.”
“It’s just dumb, see,” said Tony. “I got to go now.” He realized that Hines’s stupid joke had turned out to be an advantage: he could use it as an excuse for escape. But he was not quick enough.
Plunkett moved closer, cupped a hand at his mouth, and said, “Here comes fresh meat.” His breath lived up to Tony’s worst expectations.
Tony then looked where Plunkett’s elbow indicated, and he saw Eva Bullard coming toward them. She was still some forty yards away. He was aware that if he let her reach him she would speak in a manner that would reveal to Hines and Plunkett that she knew him personally. Therefore he moved rapidly in interception.
When he reached her he spoke in a low, intense voice. “Listen, I want you to leave me alone. If those guys knew I was hanging around with some
Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child