"Darling!" the girl whispered, reaching down to pull her up into an embrace. "Oh, my sweet angel! That was so wonderful! I can't tell you how happy it's made me…"
"Is that all?"
June's voice sounded so unexpectedly cold and hard that for a moment Pat was at a loss for words. "Wh-what?" she stammered. She felt a little chill run through her as she watched the cold hatred in the girl's eyes turn her face into an ugly mask of loathing.
"I said is that all you want from me? You got what you asked for; can I go to sleep now?"
All of the warmth and tenderness and loving she'd felt for the girl slowly drained out of Pat as she confronted those hard, frozen features. In their place carne a cold fury of her own. She swung her legs off June's bed and got shakily to her feet.
"Baby," she hissed angrily, as she crossed the room to her own bunk, "for all I care, you can go to hell now if you want to."
CHAPTER SEVEN
The following afternoon, when June's basket weaving class had ended, Mimsy Colberg remained behind while the other girls ran down to the lake for their swimming lessons. She sat in the same spot she'd occupied without moving once during the whole class, her eyes downcast at the rattan she was weaving around wicker supports. She was so quiet that for the first few minutes, as she cleaned up after the rest of the girls and settled her materials in their proper places, June was not even aware the girl was still there. It startled her a bit when she turned and suddenly confronted her.
"Why – Mimsy!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know you were still here! You scared the life out of me!"
"I'm sorry, June," the girl murmured, her eyes still concentrating on her basketwork.
"The class is over now, you know," June reminded her.
"Yes, I know."
"Well – shouldn't you be down at the lake, with the other girls?"
"No," she murmured, shaking her head slowly from side to side. "I've been excused from swimming today."
"Why?" June asked, before thinking.
"For the same reason I'll also be excused the rest of the week," the girl said, with the trace of a smile. "It's that time of the month. My mother used to say, 'My little friend is paying me a visit.'. Corny, isn't it? I mean, why couldn't she just come right out and say, 'Don't bother me, I'm having my period.'? It would've been so much more honest, don't you think?"
"Well," June smiled, "I guess people weren't always as frank with each other as they are today. Especially young people. Your mother and I both grew up in different ages, when people felt different ways about things than they do today."
"Oh, you're not like my mother!" Mimsy proclaimed earnestly, looking up directly into June's face for the first time. "You're not old, June. You're young and – beautiful."
"But I did grow up in a different age than you're growing up in, Mimsy," she explained. "Even though I'm only about five years older than you are, in this day and age five years means a lot. More than it ever used to. I think what I'm trying to say is that I can understand more easily the way your mother, for instance, or mine, for that matter, would think about a certain thing than I can understand the way someone of your age would think about the same thing. I guess that links me more with the past than with the future."
"That's nonsense!" Mimsy laughed. "You're as young as I am, and I'm as old as you are. We're the same age, really, when it comes to important things. I hardly know you, but I feel I could talk to you about things I'd never be able to talk to my mother about, even today, as grown up as I am."
"As grown up as you are," June thought with a tender smile as she stared into the girl's eyes. "I hope you'll always feel you know all there is to know about life… and never have to experience any of the really horrible parts of living that do make little girls grow up."
"Things like… sex, for instance," Mimsy continued.
"Oh! Sex!" June raised her eyebrows in a mock gesture of shock. "Tsk-tsk-tsk," she clucked. "That subject! Well, if we're going to talk about s-e-x, we'd better not talk out here where the birds and bees might overhear us. They might laugh at what we think we know. How about helping me carry some of these things back to my cabin, as long as you're not going swimming?"
"Sure!" A bright, suddenly radiant smile broke across the girl's face and she was instantly on her feet, ready to help. "I'd be glad to, June. What can I do?"
"Well, how about you taking that large sack with the rattan coils and I'll take the rest? Do you think you can manage it?"
"Oh, sure!" Mimsy smiled, moving quickly toward the sack and lifting it with both hands. "I'm a lot stronger than I look. Just 'cause I'm little, it doesn't mean I'm weak."
"No, I can see that," June grinned. "Okay then, let's go."
"June?"
"Yes?"
"As long as we're going to your cabin," the girl murmured, "do you mind if I save what I want to ask you until we get there? I mean, it's kind of serious and – well – I'd like to have your complete attention."
"Don't you think I could give you my complete attention while we're walking?" June smiled.
The girl's cheeks colored quickly with embarrassment. "Oh, of course! I didn't mean that! I just thought it would be – better. But if you've got something else to do and I'd just be in the way…"
"No," June interrupted quickly, seeing the bright sparkle start to dim in the girl's eyes. "I was just teasing you, silly! I don't have anything else planned until dinner and I'd love to sit and relax while we talk for a while."
"Oh!" The smile and the brightness in Mimsy's eyes returned almost instantly.
"You see?" June said, returning the smile. "I told you. Sometimes your generation and mine just don't understand one another!" She hefted a basket filled with her class materials, dropped her purse on top of it, and started across the clearing and through the little thicket of woods that led to her cabin. She knew it would be empty at that hour – Pat had a class of her own in another part of the camp and wouldn't be back for at least two hours – and welcomed the chance of talking with Mimsy in private. She knew that if Pat were going to be in the cabin any conversation between Mimsy and herself would have been impossible. In the first place, she was sure the girl wouldn't feel comfortable about confiding to June in Pat's presence. She'd probably clam up tight and keep whatever was troubling her inside. In the second place, June knew she couldn't predict with any certainty how Pat would react. In the black mood she seemed to be in that morning, anything might be possible. In her anger and bitterness and – possibly, too – her jealousy, she might be more careless with her tongue than she would mean to be and say something in a sarcastic crack that would let Mimsy know what the situation was between them. The last thing June wanted was for anyone at the camp to know that she and Pat had once been lovers.
To June's way of thinking, the whole involvement with Pat had been a regrettable situation which never should have been started in the first place and which now, fortunately, seemed to be finally ending. She knew that after last night she wanted nothing more to do with Pat, either as a sexual lover or as a friend. She'd been stunned by the display of cruelty Pat had shown and the ruthless use of blackmail to force her into submission.
When Pat left the cabin to go to breakfast, the two girls had spoken no more than two words to each other, and those had been unintentional on both parts. Bumping into each other by accident, one had muttered, "Sorry," and the other, "Okay." Both girls had deeply regretted even that much personal contact. As soon as Pat was gone, June had frantically searched through her belongings for the letters she'd written her the previous year. Although she went through everything Pat had in the cabin, there were no letters to be found. June reasoned that either Pat had lied about keeping the letters and they no longer existed, or she had kept them home with her other packed, things from college. In either case, she thought with relief, there was no immediate danger of having Pat send any of those damning letters to Gary or her parents.