Free Debutante Hill by Lois Duncan Page B

kissed girls before. There was nothing tender about it, nothing of the gentle awkwardness of Paul’s first kiss the night he had asked her to go steady. Lynn had lifted her own face then and kissed him back, with a singing inside her and a glow of happiness that was almost too much to bear. There was no singing in her now, only a kind of terror, a longing to get away.
    When Dirk finally released her, Lynn was trembling with anger.
    â€œThere,” Dirk said, a note of satisfaction in his voice. “Did your Hill boy friend ever kiss you like that?”
    â€œNo,” Lynn said, “and if he ever had, I would never have spoken to him again.”
    She opened the car door, slid through it and slammed it behind her. Without even a glance over her shoulder at the boy in the car, she ran up the porch steps and into the house.

5
    When Lynn arrived at school the following Monday, the news was there before her. It was a muffled buzz all around her, a horrified whisper following her through the halls and into classrooms. “Lynn had a date with Dirk Masters! With Dirk Masters! ”
    Nancy was the first one to mention it. It was at the end of home room period, when they were free to talk for a few minutes before the bell. She turned around in her seat in front of Lynn’s. She looked troubled.
    â€œIs it true that you dated that Masters boy?”
    Lynn was surprised. “Yes. How did you know?”
    â€œWell, Joan’s brother went to the movies Saturday night and said he saw you with him. That he had hold of your arm and that there was another couple with you, that terrible Greta something-or-other who sits in the back row of English class and some other boy. Lynn—” she hesitated, searching for the right words—“you don’t have to do that, you know.”
    â€œTo do what?”
    â€˜To date boys like that. I mean, it’s tough about this debut business. We all wish your dad would let you take part in it and we feel mean not having you to our parties. We like you just as much as ever, Lynn. You don’t have to prove anything—”

    â€œI’m not proving anything,” Lynn said irritably.
    â€œYes, you are. You must be. You’d never date a horrible boy like that if you weren’t I—” She put an uncertain hand on her friend’s arm—“I know it must be hard, being out of things and having all the Hill boys at the parties so there’s nobody left to date, but just remember that Paul is going to be home soon. It will be Christmas vacation before you know it. You don’t have to date boys like Dirk when you’ve got Paul.”
    â€œI know,” Lynn said, with a sigh. “I know, Nan, and I guess you’re right. I was just trying to prove something. Don’t worry, I won’t be going out with Dirk again.”
    â€œWell, good,” Nancy said with satisfaction. She was silent a moment, and then she asked slowly, “What was it like?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDating Dirk. How did he act? Did he get fresh?”
    â€œYes,” Lynn said, “sort of, at the last. He was pretty nice the rest of the time.” She changed the subject with an effort. “How are the debutante parties coming? How was the dinner dance?”
    â€œOh, fine!” Nancy’s face brightened. “It was more fun—you just can’t imagine! You know what a lovely, big house Joan’s folks have. We ate in the dining room, a formal affair, with everyone in dinner dress and candles on the table and the best silver and china, and they served—let’s see—” She wrinkled her nose in an effort to remember. “Cornish hen, I think it was. And wild rice and peas cooked with mushrooms and fruit salad and a gorgeous ice cream thing for dessert. And after dinner we went into the living room and they had everything cleared and the room was decorated
to represent the end of autumn—rust and