Plans.
They would no longer work that way. Her new-found reputation would make life in Antrim relatively impossible. Living through the few months between now and June would be difficult enough. Then her reputation would follow her to Ohio State and it would be the same thing all over again.
She wondered if she would go to college. She even wondered if she would manage to graduate from Antrim High. And, while she wondered, she was amazed at the very calm way she thought about these things. It was as if nothing mattered at all — no, it was more as though she had everything strangely under control. Her own calmness nearly frightened her. Maybe it was the calm before the storm. Maybe she was going to crack up any minute now and go all to pieces. But she did not think so.
Maybe—
“April!”
She walked to her bedroom door, opened it. It was her mother calling her this time.
“Telephone, April.”
She walked slowly downstairs to the telephone. “It’s a boy,” her mother confided, handing her the telephone receiver. She took it, said hello to the mouthpiece, and waited.
“This is Jim Bregger, April.”
“Oh,” she said. “Hello, Jim.”
“I just thought I’d give you a ring,” he said. “Find out of you’re free Friday night.”
For a moment she thought of telling him that she was not free, that she was expensive. She almost came close to giggling, but she restrained the impulse.
“Friday,” she said thoughtfully. “That’s tomorrow night, isn’t it?”
That’s right.”
“Well,” she said, “how come you happened to call?”
“I thought maybe we could go out together,” he said, sounding defensive. “That’s all. Just thought we could go for a ride or take in a show or something.”
“Oh,” she said.
“Is it a date?”
“Well—”
“It’s a date,” he said. “Tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up about eight or so, okay? We’ll go for a ride or take in a show, something like that. I’ll see you, April.”
He hung up and she was left holding on to a dead phone. This annoyed her. She had never told him she would go out with him. As a matter of fact, she had been looking around for a polite way to tell him to go to hell, and now she was stuck with a date. And the date was one which he thought would lead to a quick tussle in the back seat of his father’s car.
She did not want this to happen. She was about as interested in Jim Bregger as she was in swimming in boiling oil. He was fat, had pimples on his forehead and he was stupid.
And, according to him, he was going to make love to her tomorrow night.
She put the phone back on the hook. She walked into the living room and swiped two cigarettes from the tray on the coffee table. She picked up a pack of matches. Then she got her corduroy jacket from the back hall and put it on, slipping the cigarettes and the matches into a pocket.
“I’m going for a walk, Mom,” she called. “I’ll be back in a little while.”
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere special. Be back soon.”
The air outside was brisk. She buttoned her jacket and walked along Hayes Road The small street was empty of people, which was not surprising. The residents of Antrim seldom walked around after dinner. They either stayed at home or drove downtown to the movies or tavern. She turned off Hayes Road and into another side street. She fished into her pocket and took out one of the cigarettes. This was a little crumpled but she straightened it out and put it between her lips. She lit two matches, which the wind blew out, then got the cigarette going with a third. She took a puff and dragged smoke deep into her lungs. She blew out a cloud and felt better instantly.
Nice girls did not smoke on the street.
Nice girls did not go All The Way with boys.
She was not a nice girl.
Throughout the town of Antrim, the word was passing from boy to boy that April North was a girl who could be made, a girl who had been there. Already it was relatively common knowledge that on Saturday night last, one April North did have sexual relations with one Daniel Duncan in said Duncan’s automobile.
So it seemed a little silly to pass up a cigarette.
She noticed it in school the next day.
She noticed it instantly, and she began to wonder how she had missed it for the past four days. Now, knowing that Danny had turned informer, it was obvious. Boys gave her knowing looks. Girls looked at her thoughtfully, as if trying to discover what it had been like, how it might have changed her. There was a strange sort of distance in everyone’s attitude — something she had missed on Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday, but something which fit into place perfectly on Friday.
Jim Bregger gave her a solemn but knowing wink in the lunchroom, a wink that said he was going to show her one hell of a good time that night. A boy named Ralph Margate brushed up against her in the hallway between her sixth and seventh hour classes. She might not have noticed the maneuver a day earlier but now it was unmistakable. His hand rubbed her backside briefly and his hip bumped too-familiarly into hers.
When the bell rang she dropped off her books at her locker. The Greene County Bank and Savings Company stayed open until six o’clock on Fridays. She went directly to the bank, took her bankbook from her purse and presented it to the teller.
“A deposit, April?”
“A withdrawal,” she said, hoping she sounded properly casual. “I want to take it all out.”
“All of it?”
“That’s right.”
The teller, a gray-haired woman with thick glasses, frowned disapprovingly. In her weak eyes, thrift rivaled cleanliness for next place to godliness.
April explained. “I’ve been saving up for something,” she said. “Now I’ve got enough money.”
The teller’s expression softened. She made the notation in the bank book and solemnly counted out five hundred and forty-five dollars and seventy-four cents. She presented the pile of bills and change to April.
“Lots of money,” the teller said. “Sure you’re not planning on running away from home, now?”
April managed to laugh. She scooped the money into her purse and fastened the clasp. Then, nonchalant as ever, she left the bank and headed for home.
On the sidewalk a boy fell into step beside her. “Hey, April,” he said. “What do you say we stop for a soda?”
She looked at him. It was Bill Piersall, the boy who had been the first to call last night, the boy who had tipped her off to her present position in the Antrim social scale. Her first reaction was to tell him to take a flying jump in the nearest lake. Then she changed her mind. If he wanted to buy her a soda, she might as well take him up on it. It would hurt nothing. And she might find out something.
“Sure,” she said. “Sounds good.”
They crossed the street in the middle of the block, since jaywalking was not a particularly hazardous sport in Antrim. They went to the drugstore — not the one her father owned, because his store did not have a fountain — and took stools at the counter. There were a few other students from Antrim High in a corner booth, but most of the Antrim High kids patronized the Sweet Shoppe for after-school eating.
“About last night,” Bill said.
The waitress came, a tired-looking woman in her mid-thirties with massive circles under her eyes. Bill ordered a strawberry soda and April asked for a black-and-white sundae. The waitress went to make them.
“About last night,” he said again. “On the phone.”
She didn’t say anything.
“I was kinda stupid. The way I talked, I mean. It wasn’t too nice, I guess.”
He had made a shrewd guess.
“I shouldn’t have said it the way I did. But you know what I mean. I mean, it’s not like you’re a virgin or anything. You know what it’s all about.”