allowed Blake to possess her. He was so kind and understanding. She was as bad as he … she had wanted him too … Now she wished she had.
"I wish I had let him!" she cried. Every sense and emotion had heightened to an almost painful intensity. She dropped the curtain savagely, almost tearing its thin fabric.
"Damn moon," she gritted the words between her teeth and flung herself on the bed.
She stared about her and wondered if Gaylord had ever been out with Thelma White. She gave a frightened little sob and bit her lips. Thelma wouldn't fight back … she knew that.
Joy lay there thinking, her fine nostrils flaring with her breathing. Her face very white, her eyes behind their sooty lashes, enormous in her small face. She was seeing Gaylord over Thelma's naked body. Her small fingers clutched tight, opened, and then clutched again. She thought about what Thelma had said. But it wasn't the kind of thing that it did any good to think about. If she kept on brooding over it, she would go mad, start crying again. She didn't want to do that. Gaylord hadn't asked for a date tonight, but she kept on hoping. Maybe he would call … maybe he would forget Thelma … maybe …
"Joy."
It was her mother's voice. Her heart leaped with excitement. It was Gaylord. He did call and she had just gotten herself upset for nothing. He was coming over. She wanted to break into wild laughter, and for a mad second, wondered what dress he would like best. She'd wear one that he would be sure to notice.
"Joy? Are you asleep?"
"No, Mother," she almost shouted.
"Mary Jane's here."
Mary Jane? Suddenly and forcibly, a hard stab shot through her, and she looked deflated, diminished. In the distance she heard a witch cackle, laughing at her dream and at her.
She turned about wearily. "I'll be there in a minute, Mary Jane." She almost cried. She felt enclosed in ice; rubbed her eyes. Mary Jane's here, she whispered to herself. Oh hell …
She gave a little laugh and left her room.
