Chapter 3

It was an eerie night, Monday. The crisp, sunny, weather of Sunday had changed overnight, being replaced by a steady rain and gusty winds. I was sitting in John's room studying. Porter Monson Dillard Scott III was there too, but everybody called him 'Dill' or sometimes 'Dillweed' (which sometimes morphed to 'Dickweed', or even 'Dickwad'). We were listening to Fleetwood Mac's Rumors on 8-track tape, and the lyrics to "Do you believe in magic" were striking a chord in me that they hadn't before:

I never did believe in miracles, But I've a feeling it's time to try.I never did believe in the ways of magic, But I'm beginning to wonder why

Thoughts of Allison filled my head, but I really didn't have time to be dwelling on her. I had 2 pages of calculus problems, a short story, and an essay on the League of Nations to finish that night. Well, the essay wasn't due until Wednesday, but I knew I needed to at least start it. John and Dill were talking about who they were taking to Homecoming, or more specifically who Dill would take, since John and Laura were an established item. In all probability, Dill would be going alone, or even skipping the dance. Despite being a pretty cool guy, and not that bad looking, girls invariably thought of Dill as comic relief, not as a romantic possibility.

I was on about the tenth calculus problem, when John asked. "Hey David, who are you going to take? Kath? Or maybe that junior in Hume House... Clarisse???"

I hadn't really given Homecoming a thought, but I knew who I wanted to take, assuming her mother would let me. I realized I'd been pretty mum with the guys about Allison. I guess I wasn't going to be able to keep that up much longer.

I was about to answer when we heard footsteps on the stairs, pounding on a door, and a voice raised in the hallway. "Anybody seen 'Stoner'? He's got a telephone call. And it's a chick!" 'Stoner' was me; it was the obvious nickname for a guy named Treadstone, I guess.

"Yo," I called out, as I put down my book, and headed for the door. There was only one phone per hall, and it was in the common room downstairs. Making phone calls was rare because of the lack of privacy. Receiving phone calls was even rarer, because of the difficulty of anyone getting through to the one phone. Getting a call from a girl was all-but-unheard of. I sprinted down the stairs, hoping it was Allison and not my sister.

"Hello," I said, in an out of breath voice as soon as I grabbed the phone.

"David?" It was Allison.

"Hi, Allison," I said, looking around the room to see who would be overhearing the call. Luckily, there weren't many around, since there was a game on in the TV room. "What's up, and how did you get the number? I didn't give it to you, since it's usually pretty much useless. It's the only phone in Johnson Hall."

"I called the Academy switchboard, silly. They told me what dorm you were in and what number to call. Listen, I just wanted to hear your voice. I'm so embarrassed about Mom, and I'm so sorry about what she did."

"It's OK, Allison," I reassured her. "I can understand her concern. It's just because she's worried about you and she cares about you." It was trite, but I figured it was true.

"I've tried talking to her about you; I told her you weren't like that, and she's being totally unreasonable. I don't know what to do. She's demanding that I never see you again." It sounded like Allison was close to tears. "David, I've never seen her like this before. I'm scared. She's irrational. Normally I get along so well with her." She was definitely crying now.

I looked around the room to make sure nobody was paying any attention. It seemed clear. "Allison, I wish I was there to give you a hug. It will be OK, I'm almost sure. Maybe I should try talking with her?" I left it as a question, not wanting to presume I knew how to deal with her mother better that she did.

"No, don't! I mean, I don't think that would be a good idea at all. Maybe if she calms down a bit. Right now, she'd be likely to rip your head off. Oh, David! Oh, Poo!"

She sounded very frustrated, and I felt the same way. Finally, after about 15 seconds where neither of us knew what to say, I changed the subject somewhat.

"Allison, I hope we can change her mind soon, since Homecoming is the 8th - Saturday after next - and I'd really like to take you to the dance."

"I'll be there," said Allison, sounding defiant. "I'm not going to let her destroy my life. I'll move out into my own place if I have to, even if I can't afford it. I'll give up food, or something."

"Maybe she'll come around, Allie..."

"Yeah, well I don't know. You haven't seen her or heard her, David. She's really, really angry. Look, I've got to go. Mom will be back from the store soon. I, um, I miss you already, David."

Is that what you say when it's too soon to say 'I love you'? "I miss you too. See you Wednesday."

"Bye."

"Bye..."

I sat there, holding the phone, for several seconds after she hung up, wondering what to do. Finally, I decided that hanging up the phone and doing my homework, so that I wouldn't flunk out of school, was probably the appropriate thing at the time.

Back in John's room, they'd switched the music to "Dark Side of the Moon".

"OK - who is she?" John demanded, in a friendly, but stern, voice.

I carefully walked over to where my books were, sat down, and got my math homework settled on my lap. John was still waiting for an answer, so I finally gave in.

"Her name is Allison, she works at Fuzzy's, and I'm taking her to Homecoming."

I set my mind to problem 14, but John wasn't done yet.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa - you can't just leave it at that! Details, man, we want details. How old is she? When did you meet? Is she good looking? Have you fucked her yet?"

"Nineteen, about 3 weeks ago, yes, and no," I replied, not looking up, and trying to be as unhelpful as possible.

A pillow whacked me in the head.

I looked up. John and Dill were laughing at my expression.

"OK, OK," I relented. "There's no need to get violent. I met Allison at Fuzzy's - she's a waitress. I've talked with her there the last few Wednesdays when I've gone down for a pizza. Sunday we went out for a bike ride together. Her mother hates my guts 'cause I'm an Academy Brat. She's about 5'6", she has brown hair down to her shoulders, and brown eyes, and she's cute. She graduated from the local high school last year, and she's trying to make enough money to go to college."

Dill suddenly piped up, "Oh, I think I know the one you mean. A touch plump, but a killer smile. How'd you ever hit on her? I thought there'd be no hope going after a Townie."

"I guess it was just my natural fucking charm, Dill. Girls are always throwing themselves at me," I threw back sarcastically. "I'm just feeling lucky that this one stuck," I added in a more serious tone.

"Ooooh - sounds like love to me," teased John. "You'll have to introduce us."

"Well, you'll meet her at Homecoming, assuming her mother doesn't chain her up in the basement. Her mom's really upset about us going together. But I'm hoping she'll get over it. But now, gentlemen, I've got work to do, so the two of you can just go back to your jacking off, and I'm going to try to finish my calculus."

Thankfully, they quieted down, and I got through the math, and on to the short story. We were supposed to write from the point of view of someone very different from ourselves. I was trying to write about the meeting between that old couple and Allison and me up on Clyde's Hill, from the point of view of the woman.

My thoughts were interrupted by a tight exclamation from Dill.

"Shit, look," he said, pointing out the window.

The wind was still gusty, and the rain was still coming down hard. Beyond that, I didn't see much worth noting. The only thing you could see out the window, really, was the Administration office, which was strangely well lit for 10:30 p.m. on a Monday night.

"I wonder who it is," said John quietly.

"Who what is?" I asked, feeling like they were seeing something completely different from what I was seeing. I had no idea what they were talking about.

John finally clued me in. "Whenever the principal's office is lit up late at night, it means they're kicking someone out of school for a rules infraction. We're not even two months into the year, and already someone is gone. Usually alcohol, gambling, or sex, but you never know. Could be cheating. Could be going off campus without permission, though that's usually a weekend infraction. Dill - go downstairs and see if there are any rumors. Somebody's got to know."