Chapter 11

They had finished their discussion of chemical valences. April served sandwiches and coffee. Bill gratefully accepted. April seated herself in the big easy chair across the room from him to sip coffee and watch him attack the sandwiches.

She thought he looked more adult here than in the classroom-the domestic setting made him loom larger and he moved with total ease and confidence, as he had that day on the football field. His chest was blocky and powerful under the pullover sweater. He did not sprawl as he did in class.

Bill, on his part, thought April was much more woman here in her own home. She had put aside her prim classroom manner and even her dress, though he had seen it before at school, looked less a teacher's costume for all its basic plain lines. Or perhaps she simply wore it differently. He found it hard to keep his eyes from the shapely, silk-sheathed expanse of underleg that she unwittingly disclosed as she sat at ease.

He glanced toward the dark hallway, wondering when Peg Mason would return. He was sorry April did not live alone. He would have liked a chance to work, slow and easy, toward a pass. If he went over, and Bill had a strong feeling he would, the rest would be easy. There were bedrooms upstairs. But he wanted plenty of time, no interruptions. Mentally he cursed Peg Mason.

April suddenly stood up and came to refill his coffee cup. She bent to pour and the low V of her dress fell away from her body. Bill had a brief glimpse of vibrant soft flesh. He fumbled for a sandwich. She straightened and the vision was gone.

She returned to her chair, crossed trim, long legs, adjusted her full skirt. He had an impulse to jump up, go to her and take that lovely body into his arms. He fought the urge.

April did not notice. She cast her mind back over the progress she had made with Bill. It was considerable as far as his chemistry grades were concerned and he had even raised his marks in other subjects. Besides, she and Bill were friends now as well as teacher and student. She had been able to hold him at exactly that distance without angering him. She now felt that he trusted her and that she could make the next step in her plan.

She said casually, "Bill, you've never said anything about your friends-or your girls."

"Didn't think you'd want to hear."

"But I do. They're part of your life."

He made a dismissing gesture. "Just guys and chicks-girls. What's there to tell? You know how it is."

"I don't at all. Tell me-about your girl."

He hesitated and she wondered if she were pressing him too soon. Bill studied her sharply and she saw small bright points far back in his eyes. Then his expression grew blank.

"Clair? Nothing much to tell about her. We go around a lot."

"Your steady?"

"In a way. It's nothing we decided on. It just happened."

April smiled. 'If you love her, you'd better decide. A girl likes to know these things."

"Oh, I see another girl now and then. I guess I'm not really in love with anyone just yet."

"That's wise enough. Just so the girls know where you stand. What about your other friends?"

"The bunch? We sort of got together maybe two years or so ago. All of us like cars and things like that."

"But not school?"

He grinned. "Not very much-except that now I'm beginning to like it."

"Well, maybe you can talk it up to a friend or two. You'd be doing them a favor."

A sound came at the outside door and it opened. Peg came in, bringing with her a brief scent of brisk autumn air and burned leaves. April hid a little frown.

Peg said, "Looks like school finally ended for the day."

"There's coffee," April offered. "Thanks. Be right back."

She disappeared. When she came back into the room, she had shed the heavy coat and the head scarf. She gave Bill and April a sharp, quick appraisal, walked to the table and the coffee pot. Bill's eyes followed her appreciatively. For an old one, he thought, Peg was stacked.

Peg filled her cup, drank, looked at her watch. "I didn't know I'd walked so long."

Bill stood up, taking the hint. April made a faint protest but he gathered up his notebook and said he was expected at home. Peg said nodding, merely sipped her coffee. April walked with him to die door.

"See you tomorrow."

"Sure, Miss Williams."

"April. I thought we'd agreed."

He smiled down at her. He shot a glance at Peg in the living room, eased back on his heels. "Night, April-and thanks."

She closed the door and walked back to the main room. Peg had dropped into her chair. April sat down and Peg finished her coffee.

"When's our boy coming back again?"

"I don't know. When he needs me."

"He should've stayed. He needs you so badly right now he would have liked to slit my throat when I came in.

"I've never seen so much as a hint of anything like that from Bill."

"Honey, chemistry's filled your eyes, then. That young man is working out a formula to get you into bed."

April stirred angrily. "Peg, sometimes I think you're all cynicism and nothing else. I know better, of course, but sometimes you make it hard for me to understand you."

Peg started to reply but saw that April was truly angry. She shrugged. "Okay, mark me wrong."

Mollified, April said, "He's just beginning to talk about his friends-and his girls. In a short time I think I can reach them through him."

"Hooray-hope you do."

"I will. Then there'll be no more trouble with that bunch. Won't Mr. Gray be surprised."

Peg's eyes widened. "So now it comes out-you're doing this for Jud Gray. I thought you were just trying for a merit badge."

"Oh, he's just incidental. It's the kids I want to help." Peg stood up. "Does Jud know about your project?"

"Not really. He may have heard about Bill."

"If he does, he'll think you've lost your head unless you explain to him. And if you do, he may still think m so.

"I don't care what he thinks."

Peg spoke carefully. "Honey, don't get too mad at me for a bit of straight talk. I'll bet Bill Collins has made a lot of boasts about you to his friends. They're wild-so you can imagine what kind of thing they'll be spreading. You'll be marked down as his woman."

April flashed, "But it's not true. I-"

"Of course it's not," Peg cut in. "But that won't matter a bit, honey. You've taken an interest in Bill Collins, stayed after school with him, invited him here. I know why and I love you for it, though I think it's a wrong move. But-Bill may have said all sorts of things."

"But what could he have said?"

"Men boast, honey, and boys on the verge of manhood are even worse. Bill's the leader and all he'd have to say is that you'd be a tiger in bed and his friends will assume he knows."

April sat quite still. Peg shook her head.

"Do one of two things, honey, is my advice. Break this thing up or go to Jud Gray, the principal, anyone, and tell them exactly what you're trying to do. Some of these days, one of those kids will let something slip to a parent, some adult. It'll get back to the school. You figure where you'll stand if that happens."

April did not move or speak. Peg came to her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She asked softly, "Mad at me?"

April shook her head. Peg sighed, impulsively kissed her and left the room. April heard her go up the stairs, move about up there and then all was silence. April stood up, turned off the lamp and walked across the dark room into the hallway. She checked the door and slowly mounted the stairs.

She shut the door of her room behind her and crossed to the windows through which a distant street lamp sent light broken by the stark shapes of bare autumn tree limbs. She stood there for a long time.

She tried to tell herself that Peg had let her imagination run away with her-yet the fact remained that Bill had a reputation as a great lover and if the thoughts Peg had expressed had occurred to Peg, they would occur to other people. And at least a part of Bill's fame had to have originated with his kissing and telling.

But would he lie about his friendship with her? April shook her head. She would gamble that he would not betray the warmth that had developed between him and her. She had to be able to depend on him.

She did not want to tell Judson Gray about her project until she knew she controlled Bill, had shaped him to a new and constructive life. If he abandoned the wild bunch the group would split up for lack of a leader. She would have done the town great service, rescued a fine young mind for science and she herself would have lived up to the finest traditions of teaching.

Her stay here, for however short or long, would then not be mere marking time. If she pulled this off, the school board would be forced to give her high and unusual recommendations.

She turned from the window, reassured, her determination renewed. She would bear with Peg's cynicism and, if there were whispers, the final results would give them the he.

She undressed and climbed into bed. She lay there a while, thinking of Bill and her eventual triumph. She smiled, then frowned.

How lonely she was, in a way. She had provided for no dates, no male companionship of her own age. She sought sleep and finally found it-a fitful thing in which she met a handsome prince of a fellow. Then the man turned out to have Bill Collins's face and she tossed restlessly.