Free Spring Fire by Vin Packer Page A

did not answer.
    "You sick?"
    She put her hand on Mitch's forehead. "Roberts," she said. "What did Roberts do to you? Did you fight? Talk to me, kid. Please tell me."
    Mitch started up. Her feet touched the floor and moved toward the door. She shut it and turned to Leda.
    "He did it to me," she said slowly. "He did it to me in the basement. I feel —horrible."
    Outside there was singing, men's voices coming clearly, singing, "Dream girl, dream girl, you are a frat man's dream girl," in rich, deep tones. Mitch held her head and sat next to Leda.
    "That goddamn bastard," Leda said. "That no-good damn bastard!"
    Mitch said, "When he came over tonight, I thought — he was sorry and he liked me and—" She could not finish, or cry or scream as she wanted to, and Leda's cursing jarred her and teased her.
    "Kid, listen. Can you hear me? Don't say anything about this. Don't trust anyone. Don't tell anyone what happened in the cellar. The basement was off limits, and you've been drinking. God, it isn't your fault! God knows that. But honey —no one cares when a rule is broken. They don't care. Can you straighten out? Do you want me to get a wet rag for your head?"
    "He said to take a hot bath. He said —"
    "He would! A hell of a lot a man knows. Take a hot bath!"
    "Leda, what's wrong with me? How did —"
    Leda said, "Don't try to talk, kid," and she helped the girl take her clothes off. She said, "It's all right now. You're O.K. now. You'll feel better after you sleep." The voices outside were singing in a lively chorus, singing fast and clear:
    "We are the great big, wow!
 Hairy-chested men, wow! Hairy-chested men!
 Wow! Hairy-chested men!
 We are the great big, wow! Hairy-chested men!
 We can do an-nee-thing! Wow!"
    Leda helped Mitch into her bed, and stripping, slipping into white silk pajamas, Leda crawled in beside her after flicking the light off. She put her arms around Mitch.
    "It's a lousy break, kid. It shouldn't have happened to you. Marsha should have known better."
    "I'm afraid, Leda. Will I have a — What if I'm pregnant? I can't even think. I wish I wasn't here or alive or anything."
    "Everything will be O.K., Mitch honey. Let me stroke your back gently. I know how men are, Mitch. I know how rough they are. Mitch, does my hand feel good?"
    "Yes."
    "Jake is rough too. You get sick of it. You get sick of them pawing you around as if you were an animal. Men don't understand. They're tough and they don't care what they do to you. I know, honey. I've been through it and I don't know why I go back, except that it just- — You have to. Jan always thinks if you don't have a man hanging around that you're abnormal or something. Mitch, you don't know what I'm talking about, I know. I talk like an idiot, Mitch. But I like to touch you. I die when I think of that Roberts bastard laying a hand on you. Listen, kid, I never felt about a person the way I feel about you. You're different. I want to keep the damn world away from you, so it won't kick you in the teeth the way it has me. You're special, Mitch, and as long as I'm alive, you're going to be O.K. I mean it"
    Long after Mitch was asleep, Leda's hands stroked her arms, and Leda lay there, hoping the evening would stay and never let morning come, for now there was a restless peace in her, akin to finding something that was lost, and yet something that had never been hers before.
    * * *
    Up on the hill overlooking the towers and the town, there in an alcove, the Sigma Delta house was bright with lights and young men laughing. In the living room downstairs, faces were awake with lively talk and collars were open at the neck, with the ties hanging freely and the coats unbuttoned. A few of the boys kicked off their shoes and leaned back luxuriously in the deep chairs and couches. Others were coming through the front door in groups of twos and threes, and in the corner a radio played a late disc-jockey show from Louisville. At the card table, four fellows began a poker game,