Sheldon Lord
April North
1
The town of Antrim is located in the south-central part of the state of Ohio midway between Cincinnati and Columbus. The population is either 4500 or 6500, depending upon whether you believe the U. S. Census Bureau or the Antrim Chamber of Commerce. Antrim also has a grammar school and high school, a small public library, one supermarket and four smaller food stores, one restaurant and five beaneries, one state liquor store and seven saloons.
The climate is typical for the area. The winter is always a little too cold, the summer a little too hot, and every spring and fall is a festival of rain. With the singular exception of Scherner Street, the town’s main thoroughfare, all the streets of Antrim are peaceful and tree-shaded. The population explosion has not yet affected Antrim, which remains a Main-Street type of midwestern small town.
The season was late October. The leaves had turned color and left the trees and small boys were earning extra money raking lawns. On the athletic field behind the high school, the team was going through after-school practice for the game coming up Saturday against Bryan High School of nearby Yellow Springs. Jeremy Keel was sweeping leaves and debris from the sidewalk in front of his barber shop into the Schwerner Street gutter. John Parson was standing behind the counter in his food shop, wishing the supermarket would dry up and blow away so that his old customers might return to him. They were regular patrons when they needed credit but in these good times they could afford to pay cash at the supermarket.
The girl, carrying two books and a notebook under her arm, was walking north on Schwerner Street, away from the main business section. She was seventeen, five feet four, with sandy hair and hazel eyes. She had a good figure. Her young breasts, mature now after several painful adolescent years of boyish flatness, pushed out against the front of her yellow wool sweater. The Black Watch plaid skirt fell to a little below her knees and hugged hips that were already rounded. She wore thick white wool socks and brown-and-white saddle shoes.
Her name was April North.
She walked steadily and easily, with a fluid movement of her hips. Turning off Schwerner Street at Hayes Road, she headed toward the house where she lived with her mother, her father and her younger brother. Her mother was one of the leaders of the women’s group at the Antrim Baptist Church, her father ran the more profitable of Antrim’s two drugstores, and her brother Link was starting his sophomore year at Antrim High. But she was not thinking about her family as she walked. She was barely aware of where she was going and her feet moved more by instinct than design.
She was thinking about herself, April North. And she was thinking about Daniel Duncan. And — more than anything else — she was thinking about It.
She did not want to think about It. Somehow, It was not the sort of thing you were supposed to think about, when you were a sweet and simple senior at Antrim High. Yet It was important and obviously a lot of people thought about It. She had read quite extensively about It, both in books she took from the public library and from the books her father sold in his drugstore. It was significant. It was important, but still, she did not want to think about It.
She could not seem to direct her mind onto another topic.
Because It had happened.
“Hey, April!”
She looked up. Two boys were tossing a football back and forth in the street. The one who called to her was gesturing as if to throw the football at her. She ducked and spun away automatically. Then she heard his laugh as he threw the football in a lazy spiral to the other boy. She recognized them vaguely as classmates of her brother Link.
“Scared you,” the first one called out. “Must be thinking about something awful important.”
She forced a laugh but they had already resumed their game and ignored her, and she went back to her walking and to her thinking. Suddenly she wished for a cigarette. She never smoked in public, certainly not on the street and hardly ever in her own home. But when she was out with Danny he would give her a cigarette and puffing it helped her relax. And now she wished she had a cigarette.
She could not escape the fact that It had happened.
Her thoughts drifted back to last Saturday night...
Saturday night was traditionally date night in Antrim, as it was in thousands of other towns from coast to coast. Couples who barely spoke to each other during the week went out every Saturday night for months in a row. Like most of the reasonably attractive girls in her class, April was going steady. Her steady was Dan Duncan, a tall, rangy senior who played first base on the baseball team and second-string end on the football team.
And, because it was Saturday night, they were out together. His father had let him use the family car for the night, a dark green Oldsmobile sedan a year old. This evening, April was sitting beside him in the front seat as he headed the car away from town on Route 68. They were alone in the car. Usually they double-dated with another couple, but tonight they were alone.
“We could go to the movies,” he suggested. His tone seemed to indicate that he was not too keen on the idea.
“What’s playing?”
“A western, I guess — Sound of Distant Drums. Something like that.”
“Sounds lousy.”
He nodded. “Not much else to do in this town,” he said. “Go to a show or sit around the drugstore sipping a soda. No way to get excited about things.”
She said nothing. She had a feeling she knew what he was leading up to, so she was not particularly surprised when he turned off onto the winding dirt road called Cemetery Hill road. This was rather strange because the road ran along flat land devoid of cemeteries. Pretty soon, she thought, he would kill the motor and park the car.
For almost two months they had been in the habit of parking at the conclusion of a date. At first they had simply exchanged a few kisses, then called it quits. Lately Danny had grown bolder, and his caresses had had a more pronounced effect upon her. There were times when, after he had dropped her at her home with a final good-night kiss, she had had great trouble falling asleep.
And now the date was going to begin on Cemetery Hill Road. This marked a significant change in their relationship, she knew. And if she permitted him to park now, she would be giving up leverage in a battle designed to deprive her of her virginity.
But she wanted him to park the car.
Inevitably he turned the ignition key and stilled the engine. Then he guided the car, coasting off the narrow road and into the high grasses at the side. He switched off the headlights then abruptly reached for her. There was a painfully awkward moment during which the situation seemed to have been staged and blocked out by an inept director on his first Broadway assignment. Then she was in his arms, her face snuggled tight against his chest, and everything was as it ought to be.
“April—”
She looked up and he took her face between his strong hands, bringing her mouth up to his. She wore no makeup, only a dab of lipstick on her lips. He kissed her and ground his mouth against hers. She felt desire build within her at a frightening pace. Her heart was beating faster than it should, her palms were moist.
He kissed her again. This time his tongue slid between her slightly parted lips and probed inside her mouth. He had done this before. At first it had seemed silly, laughable. Now it was stimulating.
His arms were around her and his hands rubbed the back of her sweater. Her whole body was miraculously alive with a new force she had never felt before. He kissed her again and this time her tongue seized the initiative, plunging into his mouth and savoring the warm male taste of him.