The Fun House. By: Dean R. Koontz

After all the sadness and pain and fear that she had endured, she was

long overdue for her share of happiness.

Already, she had put Conrad’s threat out of her mind.

It was Tuesday, August 16, 1955.

O N E AMY HARPER

ON THE NIGHT of the senior prom, Jerry Galloway wanted to make love to

Amy.

His desire didn’t surprise her. He always wanted to make love. He was

always pawing at her. He couldn’t get enough of her.

But Amy was beginning to think she’d had enough of Jerry. Too much of

him, in fact. She was pregnant.

Whenever she thought about being pregnant, she got a hollow, cold

sensation in her chest. Afraid of what she would have to face in the

days ahead– the humiliation, her father’s disappointment, her mother’s

fury–she shivered.

Several times during the evening, Jerry saw her shivering, and he

thought she was just bothered by a draft from the gymnasium’s air

conditioning. She was wearing a lacy, green, off-the shoulder gown,

and he kept suggesting that she put her shawl over her shoulders.

They danced only a few of the fast songs, but they didn’t miss a single

slow number. Jerry liked slow dancing. He liked to hold Amy close,

pressing her tight against him, as they glided somewhat clumsily around

the floor. He whispered in her ear while they danced, he told her that

she looked terrific, that she was the sexiest thing he had ever seen,

that all of the guys were surreptitiously staring at her cleavage, that

she made him hot, real hot. He pressed so tightly against her that she

could feel his erection.

He wanted her to feel it because he wanted her to know that she turned

him on.

To Jerry’s way of thinking, his erection was the greatest compliment he

could pay her.

Jerry was an ass.

As Amy allowed him to maneuver her around the crowded room, as she

permitted him to rub his body against her under the pretense of

dancing, she wondered why she had let him touch her in the first

place.

He was such a creep, really.

He was handsome, of course. He was one of the handsomest boys in the

senior class. A lot of girls thought Amy had made a wonderful catch

when she’d latched onto Jerry Galloway.

But you don’t give your body to a guy just because he’s good-looking,

she told herself. My God, you’ve got to have higher standards than

that!

Jerry was handsome, but he wasn’t nearly as intelligent as he was

good-looking. He wasn’t witty, clever, kind, or more than minimally

considerate. He thought he was cool, and he was good at playing Joe

College, but there was no substance to him.

Amy looked around at the other girls in their silks and satins and

laces and chiffons, in their low-cut bodices, in their Empire-waist

dresses, in their backless gowns and long skirts and pumps, in their

elaborate hairdos and carefully applied makeup and borrowed jewelry.

All those girls were laughing and pretending to be ultra-sophisticated,

glamorous, even world-weary. Amy envied them. They were having so

much fun.

And she was pregnant.

She was afraid she was going to cry. She bit her tongue and held back

the tears.

The prom was scheduled to last until one o’clock in the morning.

Afterwards, from one-thirty until three o’clock, there was an

extravagant breakfast buffet in one of the town’s nicest restaurants.

Amy had been allowed to come to the prom, but she hadn’t been given

permission to attend the breakfast. It was all right with her father,

but, as usual, her mother objected. Her father said she could stay out

until three because this was a special night, but her mother wanted her

home by ten, three whole hours before the prom ended. Amy always had

to be home by ten on weekends, nine o’clock on school nights. Tonight,

however, her father interceded on her behalf, and her mother grudgingly

compromised, Amy didn’t have to be home until one o’clock. Her mother

didn’t like making that concession, and later, in a hundred small

telling ways, she would make Amy pay for it.

If Mother could have her way, Amy thought, if Daddy didn’t stick up for

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