Angie Makes Friends

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

"She looked at him wide-eyed.
"You've been looking good lately," Brad said to Angie. He turned to the other girls. "Don't you think so?"
"She sure has," Mary Jane said. She looked enviously at Angie.
To her chagrin, Angie blushed.
"You do," Brad insisted. "Maybe it's because you have a boyfriend now."
Angie's chin went up haughtily. "He's just a friend."
"Friend or not, it's made a change in you," Brad said.
"How?" Angie asked.
"Ohh," Brad searched for words. "You're happier-more approachable."
"Oh, I'm not," Angie protested.
"I'd like to get to know you better," Brad said confidently. "When can I come over? Tonight?"
"No," Angie objected. "Tonight is Friday."
"So?" Brad smiled enigmatically. "What's so sacred about Friday?"
"Nothing," Angie replied. "It's just that I already have plans for tonight."
"Why can't I be included?" Brad persisted.
"Because why should I change my plans?" Angie said mockingly.
"Because you'd like to take pity on a poor homeless bachelor," Brad mocked back at her.
Mary Jane and her friends clustered around Angie, obviously impressed by Brad's pursuit of her.
Angie preened, proud to be the center of attention. "What would we do if you did come over?" she
asked tentatively.
"What you usually do," Brad said boldly, his face expressionless. He added, "We could play records."
"Maybe you could come over for a little while," Angie said carelessly, with a guarded glance at the girls.
She was rewarded with envious expressions on their faces.
"What time?"
"7:30," Angie said. Then she thought for a moment. "No, better make it 8."
Brad studied her face. "Not 7:30. 8."
* * *
That afternoon, after school, Angie went straight home and went to her bedroom and laid on her bed
and began to worry about what she had done. What if Brad found out about what she and Doug were
doing? He'd probably tell and then she'd be in a mess. Her mother would die from the shock. It was
dangerous to let him come. Maybe she should call him and tell him not to come? The envious faces of
Mary Jane and her girlfriends came into her memory. Their avid glances and rapt attention to her verbal
tongue-of-war with Brad pleased her all over again. They had walked with her to her classroom
afterwards, chatting with her like old friends. Her dreams of friendship were coming true.
Her mind was rationalizing. Why not let Brad come? It would be a joke on Doug. They would talk and
play records for a while and then they'd send him home early. She and Doug could make love
afterwards. She could have the best of everything.
Finally, she heard her name being called.
"Angelica."
It was her mother calling! What did she want?
"Angelica!"
"Yes, Mother."
"Open you r door."
Angie swung off the bed, padded to the door and opened it a crack.
"Yes?" Angie asked.
"Aren't you going to let me in?" he mother asked, somewhat uncertainly.
Angie stepped back and opened the door wider. Now what? she asked herself. The occasions her
mother visited her room were in frequent. Angie stood, waiting.
Mr. Marlowe seemed uneasy. She kept prowling about the room, seemingly unable to settle down. The
silence grew strained. Embarrassing. Angie determined not t o break it. Let her. She invaded my room. I
didn't ask her to come.
"Well," Mrs. Marlowe said nervously. She cleared her throat loudly. "I've-I've been thinking. About
what you asked me. And-and I think it's time you did know-some things," she ended lamely. She
stopped, confused, and look at the floor.
Angie watched her mother with clear eyes. She supposed she should feel sorry for her but all she could
feel was indifference and, yes, pity. If she could only see what a pitiful spectacle she was making of
herself!
Mrs. Marlowe looked up at Angie, couldn't bear to look in her probing eyes, and looked out the
window.
"It's hard to explain," she started again hesitantly. "Especially to a younger girl. Only married women
really need to know."
Angie's eyes met hers unflinchingly. Her mother looked away quickly again.
"But, girls should be aware-they should watch out for compromising situations. Like, you should never
stay alone in a room with any boy-or man. And don't let them touch you. Anywhere. Men are animals.
It's their nature. A girl has to protect herself."
"From what?" Angie asked innocently.
The simple question threw her mother in a tizzy. Her face turned red, her mouth opened involuntarily and
hung open, bereft of words. Obviously, her mind was confused and shame filled her body.
"What happens, mother?" Angie asked stubbornly.
Her mother concentrated on a spot on the floor. "They touch you. It doesn't feel good. And you'll
probably get pregnant right away." She frowned, searching for words. "It's better to put all thought of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Archiwum