needing the pill or anything else until I’m out of college. I’m going
to sit back, with my knees together, and be virginal.” aLike hell you
are,” Liz said. “Two weeks from now, you’ll be flat on your back,
pinned under one stud or another. Two weeks at most. I know it. I
know you backwards and forwards, up and down, inside and out. You know
how it is that I’m able to read you so clearly? It’s because you’re
exactly like me.
We’re two of a kind. Peas in a pod. Oh, not on the surface,
necessarily. But deep down, deep in your heart where it counts, you’re
exactly like me, honey.
That’s why we’d be great together in Vegas. We’d have a ball.”
Richie Atterbury walked up to the table. He was a tall, thin boy, not
handsome but not unattractive, either. He had thick, dark hair, and he
wore horn-rimmed glasses that made him look a little bit like Clark
Kent. “Hi, Liz. Hi, Amy.”
Amy said, “Hello, Richie. That’s a pretty shirt you’re wearing.” “You
really think so?” he asked.
aYes. I like it a lot.”
“Thanks,” Richie said awkwardly. He looked at Liz with his big,
lovesick, puppy eyes, and he said, “Ready for the movie?”
Can’t wait,” Liz said. She stood up. To Amy, she said, “We’re going
to the drive-in. That’s really fitting, too.” She grinned wickedly.
“Because Richie sure knows how to drive it in.” Richie blushed.
Liz laughed and said, “The only way I’m going to see much of this movie
is if we set up a series of mirrors to reflect it onto the ceiling of
the car.”
“Liz, you’re terrible,” Amy said.
“Do you think I’m terrible?” Liz asked Richie.
“I think you’re terrific,” Richie said, daring to put an arm around her
waist.
He still seemed somewhat bashful, even if Liz had made him more than
passingly familiar with sex and drugs.
Liz looked at Amy. “See? He thinks I’m terrific, and he was the class
genius, so what do you know about it?” Amy smiled in spite of
herself.
“Listen,” Liz said, “when you’re ready to start living again, when
you’re sick and tired of playing Sister Purity, give me a call. I’ll
line someone up for you. We’ll double-date.” Amy watched Liz and
Richie as they walked outside and got into the yellow Celica. Liz
drove. She pulled away from the curb with a torturous squeal of tires
that made everyone in The Dive look toward the front windows.
After Amy left The Dive at twenty minutes till seven, she didn’t go
straight home. She walked aimlessly for more than an hour, not really
window-shopping in the stores she passed, not really noticing the
houses she passed, not really enjoying the clean spring evening, just
walking and thinking about the future.
When she got home at eight o’clock, her father was in his workshop.
Her mother was sitting at the kit,chen table, leafing through a
magazine, listening to a radio call-in program, and sucking on vodka
and orange juice.
“If you didn’t have dinner at work,” Mama said, “there’s some cold
roast beef in the refrigerator.” “Thank you,” Amy said, abut I’m not
hungry. I ate a big lunch.” 1-15
: “Suit yourself,” Mama said. She turned up the volume on the radio.
Amy interpreted that as a sign of dismissal. She went upstairs.
She spent an hour with Joey, playing fivehundred rummy, his favorite
card game. The boy didn’t seem himself. He hadn’t been the old,
effervescent Joey since Mama had made him get rid of his monster models
and posters. Amy worked hard at making him laugh, and he did laugh,
but his good humor seemed like a facade to her. He was tense
underneath, and she hated to see him that way, but she couldn’t figure
out how to reach him and cheer him up.
Later, in her room, she stood nude again in front of the full-length
mirror.
She appraised her body with a critical eye, trying to decide if she
did, indeed, measure up to Liz. Her legs were long and quite well
shaped. Her thighs were taut, the muscle tone in her whole body was