"I-I can't, Donnie… I just c-can't! Don't you understand?" she sobbed, hot tears beginning to glisten in her eyes.

"Okay, Char… you know what you want to do," he told her, but Donnie knew that in letting her follow the course she had chosen, he had, almost literally, given her to Ray Donahue. His eyes bored into Ray's, as he swiveled to look at the tall boy. He went on, "I don't know what you laid on her Ray… but you must have come on pretty strong! What's next in this farce of yours?"

"Well… for starters… how about some drinks? My old man's got one of the best stocked bars in town!"

"Make mine Scotch on the rocks!" Donnie said, trying to appear worldly and man-about-townish.

"I-I don't want anything t-to drink…" she said. Her voice was small, frightened.

"I'll make a special one for you," Ray leered. "I know you'll like it… after you've tried it!"

"Is it a-alcoholic…?"

"Yeah… it's got a little… but it's more like a punch," he assured, as he went to mix for them.

He brought drinks; Scotch for him and Don… and a slightly green-tinted milky looking drink for Charity. Ray raised his glass and said, mockingly, "Well, since we're playing square… drinking, instead of toking up… here's looking up yours!"

Charity sipped. It tasted good, but she didn't know what it was. She was going to ask, decided against it and drank from the glass. The liquid slid down her throat, easily, and was not at all unpleasant. There was a slight warmth from the alcohol, but not enough to alarm her. She had seen too much of her father's drunkenness. A long time ago, she had decided that indulgence in drinking would not be for her. This drink was different. It didn't seem to be at all strong.