Free Summer Of Fear by Lois Duncan Page A

exaggerating.”
    “Thanks a heap,” I said, not inviting him to sit down. “What is it you want?”
    “Well, look.” He seated himself on the end of one of the beds anyway. “I wanted to ask you—say, can we shut the door?”
    “Why?” I asked curiously.
    “I just want to talk privately a minute, that’s all.”
    I pushed the door closed and turned back to him. He was staring at the rug and drumming his fingers on his kneecaps, the way he did when he was feeling embarrassed.
    “Look,” he said finally. “Look, the whole thing I wanted to ask you was—well, couldn’t Julia go to the dance tonight even if you can’t?”
    “Mother suggested that,” I said, “and I told Julia I’d call Carolyn and see about Julia’s going with her and Rick. She didn’t want me to. She said she’d never even met Rick and it would make her feel funny.”
    “Do you suppose Mike would take her?” Peter asked hesitantly. “I mean, he’s probably already got tickets and it’s too late for him to have made any other plans. I could sit with them at intermission, and then afterwards I could bring Julia home.”
    “He would probably do it if I asked him,” I said, “but I hate to put him on the line like that. Julia’s our cousin, not his. It would be one thing if I were along too, but she’s really not all that easy to talk to, and with nobody there to take up the slack he could feel pretty stuck.”
    “Nobody could feel stuck with Julia,” Peter said firmly. “Girls don’t have to jabber all the time to be good company. Besides, like I said, I’ll sit with them at intermission and give Mike a chance to wander around and talk to people. And he won’t have to drive her home or anything.”
    “Well—” I said slowly. I didn’t like the idea, but I didn’t want to be horrid about it either. Mike was always a good sport about things that pertained to the family. We had often taken Bobby with us to movies, and once when Dad was out of town on business, he had even suggested taking my mother.
    “Please,” Peter said quietly. It wasn’t a word that Peter used very often.
    The tone of his voice startled me, and I glanced at him sharply. He was still staring down at the rug, and his face was flushed.
    “Look, Sis,” he said awkwardly, “this thing really matters to me. I—I want Julia there tonight. I want her to hear me play. I mean, it’s one thing I can do, you know—blow a horn. I want her to see me up there on the bandstand doing my thing, and people applauding and—well—you know.”
    I did know. Quite suddenly I knew a lot more about Peter than he had meant to tell me. With an effort I restrained myself from reaching over to tousle the awful orange hair, so like my own, which he must hate just as much as I did. I wanted to hug his skinny shoulders and say, “You don’t have to be a superman. A girl can love you just because you’re Peter.”
    Instead I said, “Okay.”
    “You mean, you’ll ask Mike?”
    “I said ‘okay,’ didn’t I?”
    “Gee, Rae, thanks.” He let his breath out in a deep sigh and for the first time since the conversation started he looked up and met my eyes. “A first cousin isn’t all that close, do you think, Rae? I mean, it’s hardly any blood kin at all.”
    “In some states they’re not allowed to marry,” I told him.
    “Marry! Who’s talking about marriage? At least—well, if something like that came up it would be pretty far in the future, after college and everything. You don’t worry about that sort of thing until you’re right to it.”
    He got up and crammed his hands into his pockets and squared his shoulders. In his mind he was already at the dance, standing on the bandstand, raising the clarinet to his lips. Across the dance floor Julia was seated at a table, her gaze glued upon him, those huge dark eyes shining and wide.
    “Pete?” I said as he reached the door. He turned back to me. “Do I really look as bad as—as—I think I do?”
    Peter stood