I
Ronnie Shires stood before the mirror and slicked back his hair. He straightened his new sweater and stuck out his chest. Sharp! Had to watch the way he looked, with graduation only a few weeks away and that election for class president coming up. If he could get to be president then, next year in high school he'd be a real wheel. Go out for second team or something. But he had to watch the angles-
Ma came out of the kitchen, carrying his lunch. Ronnie wiped the grin off his face. She walked up behind him and put her arms around his waist.
"Hon, I only wish your father were here to see you-"
Ronnie wriggled free. "Yea, sure. Say, Ma."
"Yes?"
"How's about some loot, huh? I got to get some things today."
"Well, I suppose. But try to make it last, son. This graduation costs a lot of money, seems to me."
"I'll pay you back someday." He watched her as she fumbled in her apron pocket and produced a wadded-up dollar bill.
"Thanks. See you." He picked up his lunch and ran outside. He walked along, smiling and whistling, knowing Ma was watching him from the window. She was always watching him, and it was a real drag.
Then he turned the corner, halted under a tree, and fished out a cigarette. He lit it and sauntered slowly across the street, puffing deeply. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the Ogden house just ahead.
Sure enough, the front screen door banged and Marvin Ogden came down the steps. Marvin was fifteen, one year older than Ronnie, but smaller and skinnier. He wore glasses and stuttered when he got excited, but he was valedictorian of the graduating class.
Ronnie came up behind him, walking fast.
"Hello, Snot-face!"
Marvin wheeled. He avoided Ronnie's glare, but smiled weakly at the pavement.
"I said hello, Snot-face! What's the matter, don't you know your own name, jerk?"
"Hello-Ronnie."
"How's old Snot-face today?"
"Aw, gee, Ronnie. Why do you have to talk like that? I never did anything to you, did I?"
Ronnie spit in the direction of Marvin's shoes. "I'd like to see you just try doing something to me, you four-eyed little-"
Marvin began to walk away, but Ronnie kept pace.
"Slow down, jag. I wanna talk to you."
"Wh-what is it, Ronnie? I don't want to be late."
"Shut your yap."
"But-"
"Listen, you. What was the big idea in History exam yesterday when you pulled your paper away?"
"You know, Ronnie. You aren't supposed to copy somebody else's answers."
"You trying to tell me what to do, square?"
"N-no. I mean, I only want to keep you out of trouble. What if Miss Sanders found out, and you want to be elected class president? Why, if anybody knew-"
Ronnie put his hand on Marvin's shoulder. He smiled. "You wouldn't ever tell her about it, would you, Snot-face?" he murmured.
"Of course not! Cross my heart!"
Ronnie continued to smile. He dug his fingers into Marvin's shoulder. With his other hand he swept Marvin's books to the ground. As Marvin bent forward to pick them up, he kicked Marvin as hard as he could, bringing his knee up fast. Marvin sprawled on the sidewalk. He began to cry. Ronnie watched him as he attempted to rise.
"This is just a sample of what you got coming if you squeal," he said. He stepped on the fingers of Marvin's left hand. "Creep!"
Marvin's snivelling faded from his ears as he turned the corner at the end of the block. Mary June was waiting for him under the trees. He came up behind her and slapped her, hard.
"Hello, you!" he said.
Mary June jumped about a foot, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. Then she turned and saw who it was.
"Oh, Ronnie! You oughtn't to-"
"Shut up. I'm in a hurry. Can't be late the day before election. You lining up the chicks?"
"Sure, Ronnie. You know, I promised. I had Ellen and Vicky over at the house last night and they said they'd vote for you for sure. All the girls are gonna vote for you."
"Well, they better." Ronnie threw his cigarette butt against a rosebush in the Eisners' yard.
"Ronnie-you be careful-want to start a fire?"
"Quit bossing me." He scowled.
"I'm not trying to boss you, Ronnie. Only-"
"Aw, you make me sick!" He quickened his pace, and the girl bit her lip as she endeavored to keep step with him. "Ronnie, wait for me!"
"Wait for me!" he mocked her. "What's the matter, you afraid you'll get lost or something?"
"No. You know. I don't like to pass that old Mrs. Mingle's place. She always stares at me and makes faces."
"She's nuts!"
"I'm scared of her, Ronnie. Aren't you?"
"Me scared of that old bat? She can go take a flying leap!"
"Don't talk so loud, she'll hear you."
"Who cares?"
Ronnie marched boldly pass the tree-shadowed cottage behind the rusted iron fence. He stared insolently at the girl, who made herself small against his shoulder, eyes averted from the ramshackle edifice. He deliberately slackened his pace as they passed the cottage, with its boarded-up windows, screened-in porch, and general air of withdrawal from the world.
Mrs. Mingle herself was not in evidence today. Usually she could be seen in the weed-infested garden at the side of the cottage; a tiny, dried-up old woman, bending over her vines and plants, mumbling incessantly to herself or to the raddled black tomcat which served as her constant companion.
"Old Prune-face ain't around!" Ronnie observed, loudly. "Must be off someplace on her broomstick."
"Ronnie-please!"
"Who cares?" Ronnie pulled Mary June's curls. "You dames are scared of everything, ain't you?"
"Aren't, Ronnie."
"Don't tell me how to talk!" Ronnie's gaze shifted again to the silent house, huddled in the shadows. A segment of shadow at the side of the cottage seemed to be moving. A black blur detached itself from the end of the porch. Ronnie recognized Mrs. Mingle's cat. It minced down the path towards the gate.
Quickly, Ronnie stooped and found a rock. He grasped it, rose, aimed, and hurled the missile in one continuous movement.
The cat hissed, then squawled in pain as the rock grazed its ribs.
"Oh, Ronnie!"
"Come on, let's run before she sees us!"
They flew down the street. The school bell drowned out the cat-yowl.
"Here we go," said Ronnie. "You do my homework for me? Good. Give it here once."
He snatched the papers from Mary June's hand and splinted ahead. The girl stood watching him, smiling her admiration. From behind the fence the cat watched, too, and licked its jaws.
V
There was no smile, childish or adult, on Dr. Prager's face when he presented himself again to the gatekeeper on the following day.
His face was stern and set as he drove up to the front door, accepted the butler's greeting, and went down the hall to where Mickey Dennis waited.
"What's up?" the little agent demanded, tossing his copy of Hollywood Reporter to the floor.
"I've been doing a bit of investigating," Dr. Prager told him. "And I'm afraid I have bad news for you."
"What is it, Doc? I tried to get something out of her after you left yesterday, but she wasn't talking. And today-"
"I know." Dr. Prager sighed. "She wouldn't be likely to tell you, under the circumstances. Apparently she realizes the truth herself but won't admit it. I have good reason to believe Miss Eden is disturbed. Seriously disturbed."
Mickey Dennis twirled his forefinger next to his ear. "You mean she's flipping?"
"I disapprove of that term on general principles," Dr. Prager replied primly. "And in this particular case the tense is wrong.
