they talked about how much things cost; Mubbie said that was because laughingmade people think they didn't care. "But they're always talking about it, youcan bet." It was true. They hadn't been five minutes out of the car before theywere talking about how expensive their trip to Bermuda had been ha-ha-ha and howmuch it was costing to put little Deckie into the finest prep school in Atlantaha-ha-ha and how the boat salesmen insisted on calling thirty-footers "yachts"so they could triple the price but you just have to grit your teeth and paytheir thieves' toll ha-ha-ha like the three billy goats gruff ha-ha-ha.

Then they went on about how their two older children were so busy at Harvard andsome Wall Street firm that they just couldn't tear themselves away but theybrought Deckie their little accident ha-ha-ha and they just bet that he andPaulie would be good friends.

Deckie was suntanned to the edge of skin cancer, so Paulie's first words to himwere, "What, are you trying to be black?"

"I play tennis."

"Under a sunlamp?"

"I tan real dark." Deckie looked faintly bored, as though he had to answer thesestupid questions all the time but he had been raised to be polite.

"Deckie? What's that short for? Or are you named after the floor on a yacht?"Paulie thought he was joking, like old friends joke with each other, but Deckieseemed to take umbrage.

"Deckie is short for Derek. My friends call me Deck."

"Are you sure they aren't calling you duck?" Paulie laughed and then wished hehadn't. Deckie's eyes glazed over and he began looking toward the house. Pauliedidn't want him to walk off the way Celie had. Deckie was two years older thanPaulie, and it was the important two years. Puberty had put about a foot ofheight on him and he was lean and athletic and his moves were languid and Pauliewanted more than anything to be just like Deckie instead of being a