he looked pretty solemn when he and Ernie left together, as though he wanted to say, ‘To heck with college! I’m going back to high school for another senior year with Lynn.’”
She laughed, and Lynn did, too, but the latter’s hand stole to the front of her blouse. Under it, she could feel the thin gold chain which held Paul’s class ring. It felt odd still, having the light pressure around the back of her neck and the weight of the heavy ring against her chest, but it was a good feeling too, a warm, secure feeling. It brought back Paul’s words when he came by to pick up Ernie and to say a final good-by.
“You take care of yourself,” he had said awkwardly, while Ernie was busily piling his suitcases in the back of Paul’s car. “You won’t have me around to steer you across streets and things, you know.”
“I know,” Lynn said, fighting down the sting of tears in her eyes.
I won’t cry, she told herself firmly, I just won’t. But the tears were dangerously close to the surface when she turned to smile up at Paul.
He was smiling, too, a forced smile. And then suddenly, they were both laughing, for the smiles had been so ridiculously inadequate.
Paul reached forward and caught her hand.
“Lynn, I have something for you.”
And then she felt the ring, heavy and hard and warm from his finger.
“Your ring!” she whispered. “Your class ring! Paul, how can we—”
“We can’t,” Paul said. “Not to mean ‘going steady’ the way it did in high school. I wouldn’t ask that when I’m not going to be here to take you to things. But it can mean something else. That is, if you want it to.”
“What?” Lynn asked, almost afraid to hear his answer because she knew what it was she wanted so much to hear.
“That you’re my girl. That we’ve got something between us worth hanging onto. That—oh, darn it, Lynn, you know what I’m trying to say.”
Lynn nodded, letting her fingers curl around the ring.
“Yes, I know. And I feel that way, too, Paul. I want your ring. It will give me something to kind of hang onto, as you say. Maybe I won’t miss you as much.”
“Well, you’d better miss me some,” Paul exclaimed, “or I’m coming back for that ring in a week’s time!”
He grinned, and Lynn did, too, and at that moment Ernie turned back from the car.
‘Well, are you two through with the fond farewells? Because I’ve got a girl of my own to say good-by to before we take off.”
“I know,” Lynn said, “and she’s probably about to burst by this time. She told me she was going to be out in the front yard, waiting, at eight o’clock and I think it’s closer to a quarter of nine. She’ll be sure you’ve forgotten her.”
“No, she won’t,” Ernie said easily. “Nancy knows better than that.”
They are so sure of each other, Lynn thought, so completely sure. But then, Paul and I are, too, now—now that he’s given me his class ring.
Ernie gave her a brotherly hug and climbed into the car.
“I’ve already said my good-bys to the family. Come on, old man, let’s get going. I’ll look the other way, if you want to make the grand gesture.”
“You’re a noble guy,” Paul said. He turned back to Lynn, but he did not kiss her. She did not expect him to. Paul was not the kind of boy who made a show of things in public. He simply held her hand a moment and then released it and gave her chin a little tap.
“Chin up. I’ll be back soon. Don’t you lose that ring now; it took my whole allowance for three months straight.”
“I won’t lose it,” Lynn promised. ‘I’ll never lose it!”
And then, sooner than it seemed possible, they were gone.
Now, walking along beside Nancy toward the high school, the whole world had a kind of emptiness about it Last year, she had started toward school in the morning with an excitement burning inside her, with the knowledge that “in just ten minutes . . . seven minutes . . . four minutes . . . I’ll see Paul.” He would be waiting there by the front steps, maybe talking to some of the boys, for Paul always had friends around to talk to, but his eyes would be wandering off in the direction of the Hill Road, watching for Lynn. Or sometimes she would get there first and watch for him to come. It did not matter which way it happened.
But this year it won’t be either way, Lynn thought as the street turned and the building came into view. It’s going to seem so lonely!
Nevertheless, there were plenty of greetings as the two girls approached the building. Rivertown High was a public school, but all the young people from the Hill went there. Occasionally, some family would decide to send their children to a private school, but that was not the usual procedure, for the high school was a good one. Of course, other people went there, too, but the Hill crowd was a crowd of its own, set a little apart from the rest of the students.
It was not a conscious snobbery, and there were members of the Crowd who did not live on the Hill. Most of them had become part of the Crowd because of Paul. Paul had been president of the senior class and captain of the football team, and he had been friends with almost everyone in school. Paul was the sort of boy whom everybody liked, probably because he himself liked everyone.
Lynn had known about him for years before she met him. He was only a year ahead of her, but somehow, during the first years of high school, they had just seemed to miss each other.
“As though,” Lynn said later, “every time I came in a door, you walked out one. We were in all the same places, but not at the same time. Just think, we might never have had a chance to know each other at all if it wasn’t for Ernie!”
It was through Ernie that she had really come to know Paul.
It was Ernie’s junior year, and he was trying out for the football team. Paul was already a member of the team and rumor had it he was the choice for next year’s captain. But then Paul was the football type, broad-shouldered and stocky, and Ernie was slender in the same way Lynn was.
Why he wanted to make the team, his parents could not see.
“Really, dear,” Mrs. Chambers had said gently, “it’s not necessary to go out for something like that, just because a lot of the other boys do. We’re not all meant for the same things.”
“Sure,” his father had agreed. “You’re going to be a doctor. That’s something most of those muscle-bound fellows could never dream of doing. You don’t have to prove yourself by playing football, Son; there are plenty of other ways.”
But Ernie had been stubborn. Lynn thought she knew why. It had something to do with getting a letter sweater to present to Nancy. It was just when his steady dates with Nancy were beginning, and he wanted to give her a sweater, as all the boys did when they went with a girl.
“Which is silly,” Lynn had declared. “Nancy isn’t the kind of girl to care about something like that. She cares about you, not about some old letter.”
“Mind your own business, Sis,” Ernie had said, not unkindly. “This is something I’ve made up my mind to do, and I’m going to do it.”
And so he practiced. He practiced and practiced—and came home grimy and lame and bruised. Then the day of the tryouts came, and he did not make it He did not say much when he came home that day. He just said, “I didn’t make it,” and went upstairs and shut himself in his room.
Nancy phoned later, and he would not come to the phone to talk to her, which was unheard of for Ernie. He did not even come out for dinner.
Then, that evening, Paul arrived.
Dodie saw him first. Dodie was a year younger than Lynn and