laugh at my expense. Maybe they had met up with
some of their other friends and were telling the story.
Then they would have the picture developed and show
everyone. Maybe they wouldn't. I thought hopefully.
Maybe they would realize that I could go to the police
if they did. It would be proof of what they had done.
They couldn't be that stupid. I concluded, but then I
wondered if I had made a terrible tactical error by not
telling Brenda the whole truth, especially when it all
came out later. What would I say? I forgot? She
would be even angrier at me.
I was in such turmoil my head felt as if it had
been used as a Ping-Pang ball, and my stomach
started churning and bubbling again. I tried talking
myself to sleep, and for a while. I actually did drift
off, but then I heard my bedroom door open. and I
opened my eyes to see Brenda silhouetted in the
hallway light. She stood there a moment looking in at
me.
"Are you asleep?" she asked, her voice
sounding softer.
"I'm awake." I said, sitting up. "What is it?" She closed the door softly and walked to the
bed. She had her arms folded tightly under her breasts.
I could hear that the threat of rain that had been over
us earlier and then gone had returned with a
vengeance to deliver its promise. Drops closer to sleet
sounded like pebbles against the pane. With the door
closed. I couldn't see Brenda's expression, but the way
she held her body told me she was still very angry,
very upset.