The Green Box. James F. Murphy, Jr.

from Castille.

      Neither of us said anything so I broke the silence by offering a plan for getting back to the Green Box. “When they don’t find us in the Park, they’ll come looking for us and as soon as they do, we’ll cut through Jugger’s yard, climb the fence and sit there waiting for them.”

      “Gee, I don’t think we should cut through Jugger’s. It’s too dangerous. He might be out.”

      I explained how I saw Jugger go into the house for the night. But I didn’t tell her anything else, like the uniform and stuff.

      “You mean, you were right there behind a tree and he never saw you?”

      “Yeah.”

      “But weren’t you scared? Well, I guess not if you could go into Bessie O’Leary’s cellar. Gee, Sully, you really surprise me.”

      “Why? What’ya think I was, a pansy or something?”

      “Well, no, but you’re different than the other kids.”

      “How?” I was on the defensive.

      “Well, you never get into trouble, and you read books, and you tell funny stories—and you always go home when you’re ’sposed to. And Miss Feeney always trusted you with the key to The Green Box. She never let anybody else open it.”

      “Yeah. I ’spose you’re right. But, you don’t think I’m a pansy, do ya?”

      “Of course not. Especially after tonight. Gee.”

      Suddenly I touched her arm. “Ssssssh, I heard something. Did you?”

      “No,” she whispered.

      “There it is again.” The sound of footsteps and muffled voices came from the direction of Joe Cushing’s store.

      “They’re coming up the path. Here, get back into the bushes more.”

      She lifted herself by the palms of her hands and we both moved deeper into the brush.

      “Where the hell do you suppose they are? We’ve looked everywhere.” It was Birdie’s voice again and he and his Searchers were stopping right in front of our secluded den.

      “Him and Betty are the last ones out. Maybe they’re makin’ out someplace.”

      Stretch, who always had one thing and one thing alone on his mind, had now joined forces with Birdie. That’s how it always was. At the end of the game those who were caught always chickened out or sold out, like Peter Lorre, and came looking for those who were still out.

      I could have bashed Stretch’s head with a rock when he said that about “makin’ out.” I wondered what Betty thought but I didn’t dare look at her for fear I’d make a noise.

      “Naw, not Sully. He’s probably got his altar boy suit on and sayin’ the Rosary.” Birdie laughed at his own jokes all the time and most always everybody joined him as they did now.

      A hand rubbed against my arm, a smooth, soft hand, moving up and down my arms. Betty was telling me to pay no attention to them, and I thought that was very nice of her but I still didn’t move.

      “You think Sully went home?” Poirier probably hoped that I did, so he could razz me the next day at the Park.

      “No,” Stretch said. “Sully always plays by the rules. He’d tell us. I know he would.”

      “Yeah, that’s what you think,” crossed my mind, because until Betty joined me that’s exactly what I was going to do. “Come on, let’s check the Ledge. I’ll bet he’s holed up behind the rocks.”

      They prowled on in the direction of the Ledge at the top of the hill. It was rocky on one side, the side we used to do our sledding, while the rest of it was open with tall grass. I had used it before and once I was caught there.

      When their voices trailed off, I sat in awkward silence for a few minutes and then I said, “Well. Shall we make a run for it through Jugger’s?”

      “Do you want to kiss me?” she asked.

      At first I didn’t know what she meant, or what she had said. None of it registered, because she said it like, “Do you want a Coke, or do you want an ice cream, or do you want to go on the swings?”

      “Yes,” I said without hesitation. It was like somebody else was speaking for me. It was a strange voice—the “Y” was deep and the “es” sort of cracked. My heart thundered in my ears. I leaned toward her and kissed her on the mouth. Her lips tasted like peppermint. She kissed me back. I was leaning almost off balance and supporting myself by my hands that clawed at the leaves. Then my arms went out and I felt her soft and warm against me as I pressed her down to the soft, piney earth.

      My heart thundered against her right breast as I pulled her outstretched body into me. I was amazed at my actions as though I had made out with dozens of girls before. I stroked her hair and professed eternal love for her. Her blouse rode up from her shorts and my hand briefly fell on her bare stomach. I knew we had better stop, but she knew better than I.

      “Boy, Sully, I think we had better find the Green Box.”

      “Yeah,” I said with a husky voice, my hands trembling and my heart lodged somewhere in my head, tolling like some bell gone wild. “Yeah, let’s go back through Jugger’s.”

      “Whatever you say, Bill.” My name, my regular first name sounded old and wise when she said it, like I had all the answers in the universe.

      “I guess this means we’re going together, doesn’t it, Bill?”

      “I guess so, Betty.”

      “Can I write to my brother in the Air Corps and tell him?”

      “Sure, why not,” I said, and added with my most recently acquired wisdom, “After all, he deserves to know what’s happening on the home front.”