“Yeah. But at least it's Friday.”

She sighed, thinking of her fifth-period study hall and her seventh-period New Fiction class, both of them impossibly rowdy.

They had worked their way back to the main part of the midway. The crowd was thinning. The Tilt-A-Whirl had shut down for the evening. Two workmen with unfiltered cigarettes jutting from the corners of their mouths were covering the Wild Mouse with a tarpaulin. The man in the Pitch-Til-U-Win was turning off his lights.

“You doing anything Saturday?” he asked, suddenly diffident. “I know it's short notice, but…”

“I have plans,” she said.

“Oh.”

And she couldn't bear his crestfallen expression, it was really too mean to tease him about that. “I'm doing something with you.

“You are?… Oh, you are. Say, that's good. “He grinned at her and she grinned back. The voice in her mind, which was sometimes as real to her as the voice of another human being, suddenly spoke up.

You're feeling good again, Sarah. Feeling happy. Isn't it fine?

“Yes, it is,” she said. She went up on tiptoe and kissed him quickly. She made herself go on before she could chicken out. “It gets pretty lonely down there in Veazie sometimes, you know. Maybe I could… sort of spend the night with you.”

He looked at her with warm thoughtfulness, and with a speculation that made her tingle deep inside. “Would that be what you want, Sarah?”

She nodded. “Very much what I want.”

“All right,” he said, and put an arm around her.

“Are you sure?” Sarah asked a little shyly.

“I'm just afraid you'll change your mind.”

“I won't, Johnny.”

He hugged her tighter against him. “Then it's my lucky night.”

They were passing the Wheel of Fortune as he said it, and Sarah would later remember that it was the only booth still open on that side of the midway for thirty yards in either direction.