And Kate Barrett brought that sawed-off shrimp of a man with his awful pot belly into the study where she was doing her homework and introduced him, just like that. What was she supposed to do, curtsy and pretend she was glad to meet him? That man in her father's house? Well, she didn't, and she was not sorry in the least now as she waited outside the school for David to pick her up. No, not in the least. That was the night she first went to Scottie's, a late-night drive-in hangout not far from Valley Farms, but definitely on the shadier side of the tracks. Lucy had never even felt the urge to go to that awful place, though some of the bolder girls from Valley Farms went over in groups of four or five just for laughs sometimes. Much in the manner that the Park Avenue swells used to go down to the Apollo in Harlem before the blacks declared them non-grata. Lucy went there that night for one reason – to get drunk on beer. She ordered a plate of French fries and a half-quart of beer, just like she had heard the kids did it here; and when it came, she gulped half of it down without a breath. Lucy was no drinker, at least not then, but she had sampled a few different drinks over the years, including a fair share of beer at debutante-season parties and by the pool at the country club. That night, though, she had only wanted to get drunk as quickly and painlessly as possible, and being under legal age, beer was the safest way. She had finished the first and ordered a second when David poked his head in her passenger-side window. Perhaps if she had not downed that large can of beer so quickly, she would have switched on the power window and told him to get lost. Perhaps.

But Lucy invited him inside instead; why not? she asked herself, Mother's at home with her boyfriend. If she can play around with a fat old creep like Jerry Marlowe, then I can pick my own playmates too! she told herself assuringly.

And that was exactly what she did.