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swinging his fists in clumsy desperation. The bus driver was thinking, as well as watching in the mirror. At that moment he tapped his brakes firmly, risking a bang from the vehicle following, but stalling the momentum of the single-file attack. George saw the first blow of the fight coming at him, and ducked just enough to catch it on the top of the head, where an enemy knuckle was likely to be cracked. Then he leaned forward counterpunching, just as the sudden slowing of the bus rocked the enemy back on their heels. George could already crack two centimeters of pine with either hand. The foe went down like helpless dummies, tangled with one another as they fell. George pressed forward, hammering at the face and body of the unfortunate youth who had led the attack, getting him down and keeping him down so that the rest were jammed and pinned behind him and beneath him. When the police came aboard, only a couple of minutes after the bus had reached an emergency bay, they found George still leaning on the pile of inept apes, punching anything that dared to move. The police heard Ann's matter-of-fact story, and the driver's, and the stories of the passengers who had noticed anything happening. George was identified and allowed to go his way; the five were removed to a police copter. The red-bald youth had to be carried, and his face was now far from handsome. George had a moment of sick regret, but no more than a moment, on seeing the damage he had done. As soon as the police had departed with their catch the bus got rolling again and Ann's reaction started to set in. Her hands were trembling and she had to fight back tears. She understood, probably from experience, that they would have done more than just wrap her in a plastic sheet. And the children riding with her were still in a slight state of shock, sitting quietly and staring at her and George. George sat down at her side and acknowledged her choking thanks. He now felt ten feet tall, and at the same time shaky with relief. "Relax, it's all over now," he said to Ann. He patted her arm, and slid a hand beneath her long skirt, gently squeezing her thigh. "Please don't," she murmured, shifting away from him, pressing her knees firmly together. His quieting pulse speeded up again at her withdrawal. But he couldn't believe she had meant that just the way it sounded. Probably it wasn't really the open invitation it sounded like, but just a nervous reaction from the danger she had been in. A lot of people just didn't feel like sex when they were frightened or upset, and under the circumstances her lack of even a polite pretense was quite forgive-able. So he restricted himself to holding Ann's hand, and lightly stroking her arm, which attentions she accepted and seemed to find comforting. "I think I know you," he said with sudden mild surprise. "At least I know who you are. Your name's Ann something, and you're in my sister's high school class. You were there at school one day with a bunch of girls when I went to pick her up. She's Rita Parr. Oh, excuse me, my name is George." "Yes, I heard you giving it to the police. I'm Ann Lohmann. Oh, why must I start blubbering now, when the trouble's all over?" She was certainly not blubbering, just a little tense and swollen-looking about the eyes. "Thanks to you." Getting herself completely under control, Ann looked around to her children, giving them a smile and a few cheerful words, snapping at a boy to get his feet down off the seat. "Where are you taking them?" George asked. "We're just coming back from Bear Canyon Park. I took them out there because so many never see anything but pavement and little strips of grass." The kids all had a BI look. "They're from my Sunday School class." "Oh, one of those religious schools?" "Yes." There was a pause. "I remember seeing you, too, now that I think about it. Rita looks a lot like you." He laughed. "Don't say that about the poor girl. She's all excited about graduation these days. So are you, I suppose." "Yes, we all are, I guess." But Ann was evidently not nearly as excited as Rita was. "And about going to college. Where are you going your freshman year, if you don't mind my asking?" "How could I mind your asking anything?" Ann smiled beautifully. She was really quite a good-looking girl. "I might go to Mid-Cal my first year. Or maybe Ha-Levy Junior. I'm not sure." George also liked this girl's voice, now that he had a chance to listen to it attentively. Girls' voices were important, in his estimation. So were their tempers and spirits. If there was a suggestion of repression in Ann's clothes and manner, well, that was an attractive spice for him. He hadn't yet seen her standing up, but he guessed that she would be no taller than he was. That, too, was nice. "You're older than Rita, aren't you?" Ann was asking. "Well, naturally you are. Where did you go to college, or are you still going?" "I didn't go." Not wanting her to think him lazy or stupid, he quickly added: "Oh, I may go yet. But the year I finished high school there was one problem after another in our family, people were getting sick and losing jobs and all. We were almost back on BI. I didn't have much time or money, and I was a little too dumb to qualify for any good scholarships. Then I got into this karate business. Once you get your black belt, it's really a profession." Ann looked at him warmly. "I can't imagine that you're lacking in intelligence. Anyway, you've proved that you have courage, that's more important." She shook her head as if marveling. "When you stood up there in the aisle, I didn't know what you were going to do. But I knew that you knew." Unable to find the words to answer that, George changed the subject. "I suppose you're all excited about the Prom? Rita is. She's got her escort all picked out and everything. I don't know if the poor clod knows about it yet." Once more Ann seemed to withdraw for a moment, as she had when he caressed her leg. "I'm not going to the Prom," she said, then busied herself suppressing a quarrel that had been developing among the children. George supposed that she had been having a quarrel with her best boy friend, and was uncertain about who her escort was going to be. He never doubted that a girl like this would have a choice of invitations to accept. "I'll bet you change your mind about that," he said, thinking back to the closing of his own high school days. "The Prom's half the fun of graduating, or more than half." She didn't answer. But surely a girl like this had been invited, so he could push and tease and probe a little more without seriously hurting any feelings. "Why," he said, "I'd be tempted to ask you myself, if I was in your class." "I've been asked." Ann's face was slightly averted so he could not make out her expression, but her voice was unhappily chilly. "I'm just not going." Ouch. He had managed to hit a real sore spot after all'. "Anyway," he said, "your Prom isn't next week. You have lots of time to think about it. Meanwhile, when am I going to see you again?" * * * It turned out that he saw her next day, at the police station where they had both been summoned for questioning about the fight on the bus. George came near being charged with aggravated battery, but when the testimony of all the available witnesses had been heard, he was not charged. Later George bought Ann a snack at a nearby restaurant, and then suggested they find some place a little less noisy and copulate. "No, please, I'd rather not." Again her reply was blunt and seemed to amount to an open invitation to repression. But at the same time her answer seemed so natural and direct, so unembarrassed, that he simply could not take it at face value. He told himself that she had probably been upset all over again by having to testify. She was so matter-of-fact about what she said that she probably didn't realize how it sounded. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |
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