Grace Wilkinson: Angie makes friends

Angie glanced at him scornfully. "Nothing."

Doug sat unmoving and silent.

Brad looked at Doug, then back at Angie. "You're lying," he stated flatly.

"A lot you know," Angie said.

Doug gave her a warning glance to shut up but she ignored him.

"A girl doesn't try to save a boy in front of the whole school unless there's something between them," Brad stated confidently.

"It makes me furious when people are cruel to each other," Angie said haughtily. "Why were you two fighting anyway?"

Brad met her gaze. "Because I wanted to find out where he got all his information about sex."

Angie's insides recoiled in alarm. She blinked her eyes to hide her feelings. She looked at Doug. He didn't look at her. Suddenly, she knew why they had fought and she knew Doug hadn't talked. She felt warm to him and wanted to help him. "He told me his father told him about it."

Brad snorted disbelievingly. "That's what he told me, too."

"Don't you believe him?" Angie asked. "His father is a scientist. Scientists have different attitudes about things than other people."

"How stupid do you think I am?" Brad asked indignantly. "He's just a father like any other." He turned to Doug. "Don't worry, I'll get it out of you. Sooner or later."

Doug finally spoke. "We ought to be thinking up an excuse to tell Mr. Bailey so we don't have to stay after school."

"What'll you be late for?" Brad sneered.

Doug gave him a disgusted look.

The door to the principal's office opened and Mr. Bailey came out, blinking at them from behind his telescopic-lensed glasses. He rubbed his hands together in a repulsive ingratiating way and grinned at them maniacally.

"Well, now," he said jovially, "why were we kiddies creating a disturbance in the quadrangle?" He looked at each of them in turn.

Doug's face took on a patient expression, Angie looked wary and Brad put on an innocent injured look.

Right away Mr. Bailey could see that he wouldn't get any cooperation from the Fleming boy or the Marlowe girl. Thank God there were pliant people like the Harker lad. He beamed professionally in Brad's direction.

"What have we to say for ourselves, lad?"

Brad cleared his throat nervously. "Well, I was just standing there minding my own business…" he stopped to try to think up a believable lie.

Doug spoke up. "Somebody hit him accidentally and he thought I did it. That's all there was to it."

Mr. Bailey turned his attention from Doug to Brad. "What do you say, young man? Is that correct?" He hung on Brad's words.

Brad rapidly reviewed what he should do. Damn! He should have thought up a story to get Doug in trouble. Serve him right. But, with old Bailey breathing down his neck, he didn't have time to think up a good story.

"Yes, that's what happened," he said unconvincingly.

"You're sure now?" Mr. Bailey pressed.

Brad looked from Doug's expressionless face to Mr. Bailey's kindly countenance. He nodded. "Yes, I'm sure."

Mr. Bailey turned to Angie. "And how did you get mixed up in the fight, my dear?"

"It looked like Brad was going to break Doug's arm," Angie said indignantly.

"Oh?" Mr. Bailey's tone implied that he was offended to find trouble existing in the troublesome situation.

"No, I wasn't," Brad protested angrily.

"It looked like it to me," Angie insisted.

Mr. Bailey raised his hands to signify for them to stop talking. He looked like he was making a benediction. He smiled oilingly at Angie.

"Very commendable, I'm sure."

His glance veered playfully at the boys. "We know how easily young ladies get upset about fisticuffs. Things look ten times worse to them than they really are." His demeanor said, we men share and understand something women will never share or understand.

Angie read his meaning clearly. She snorted loudly in contempt.

Doug gave her a warning look to be quiet. Brad laughed, enjoying her discomfort.

Mr. Bailey rubbed his hands together playfully. "I'm glad there's no trouble after all."

Brad jumped to his feet. "Can we go now?"

"Yes," Mr. Bailey beamed. "Don't forget to report to the office after school."

"If there was no trouble," Doug objected, "why do we have to stay after school?"

"Misunderstanding or not," Mr. Bailey said sanctimoniously, "there was a Physical Disturbance and for that you have to stay after school."

Brad escaped out of the room first with a secret smile on his lips. Doug followed with a cross expression on his face.

"Any way you look at it," Angie said loudly on the way out, "it's a rotten deal." She gave him a sharp look as she closed the door behind her.

That evening, after dinner, Angie waited a discreet length of time before she followed her father into his den. He was sitting in his brown leather chair, puffing on his pipe and paging through a medical journal.

Angie stood hesitantly in the doorway. "Daddy, are you busy?"

He turned to peer at her, then took his pipe out of his mouth and held his arms out to her. "Not too busy for you, pumpkin."

Angie walked quickly over and curled up on his lap. She relaxed, enjoying the sensations she felt. Men had such strong, firm muscles. And they smelled different from women. She didn't know the words to describe the odors. She just knew she loved men — every part of them.

Her father set his pipe and magazine on an end table. He caressed her silky hair and delighted in the feel of her rounded body and soft muscles.

"Remember when you were little," her father said. "You used to come running into the room and jump up on my lap and I'd read you stories. Do you remember?"

Angie nodded. "I remember. You'd read and read and I'd fall asleep. Then mother would come to take me off to bed and I'd wake up and cry because I didn't want to go."

"Those were the good old days."

"I used to be so warm and comfortable on your lap." She circled her arms about his neck and pushed her head onto his shoulder to one side of his chin.

They sat still, enjoying each other's presence. Her father said, "Soon you'll be sitting on some young man's lap, just like this." His tone expressed both joy and sadness.

Angie was quick to make use of the opening. "I'm glad you noticed I'm growing up. When can I find out about sex? Everybody else at school gets to go to sex education classes and Mom won't let me go to them and she won't tell me about sex either." She ended with an abused tone.

Her father looked at her with mild amusement.

Angie defended herself. "I'm fourteen now. Old enough to know, don't you think?" She stared at him aggressively.

A gleam came into his eyes. He laughed. "Fourteen is quite old enough. What do you want to know?"

Angie sat up, excited. She waved her hands out wide. "Everything. How it's done. What it means…" She looked piercingly at her father. "Especially what it means. And anything else you think I should know." She looked at him, waiting expectantly.

He laughed at her enthusiasm and hugged her with one arm. "Well, let's see. Where to begin? Let's start with something easy. Like sex is the method of reproduction — to ensure the continuity of the race. But it's more than that. It's a physical need. A way that a man and a woman can express their feelings toward one another. Each one accepts the other and by so doing they reassure each other." He stopped and shook his head. "Am I making any sense to you?"

"Oh, yes, Daddy. You do!"

"You're sure now?"

"Yes, yes. Go on. Then sex is not bad?" Angie asked.

"What are you telling that child?" a harsh, furious voice interrupted. Her mother stood in the doorway with an angry face.

"She was asking me some questions about sex," her father said in a neutral tone.

Her mother raised her voice louder. "I told her I'd tell her at the proper time."