at the Simon Fraser Lookout, a pulloff on the University cliff road that marked the spot where the explorer had first sighted the Pacific Ocean. A few minutes later the RCMP had checked them and shone a light into the Volkswagen, so Chris had moved on, muttering something about Trudeau having promised to keep the State out of the bedrooms of the Nation.
Now they were parked on an access road near the Museum of Anthropology. Normally they would have been able to see the building in the distance with its great glass walls sixty feet high, a modern showcase for the totem art of the Pacific Coast Indian tribes. They would have looked out through the windshield on several carved poles that stood in front of the Museum. But tonight a fog rose from the ground and they could see nothing at all.
Chris reached for Val's breast again.
"Hey, listen, Chris. Really, we've got to talk. I do not want to fail."
"Fail?" he said, laughing at her. "You're not going to fail. This is only October. Exams aren't till December."
Chris Seaton was a blond-haired youth, eighteen years old. Val Pritchard had met him at a freshman dance four weeks ago. She had liked his mirthful eyes, his strong, square chin, and the fact he was always laughing. Now she was beginning to realize that he laughed a little too much.
"You know your problem?" she said. "You got laughter anxiety."
"Great. The chick enrolls in first year psychology, attends four or five classes, and she's got me analyzed. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I'm just horny?"
"You're horny cause you're anxious. You got a buried neurosis."
"And you? What's your cop-out for fucking like a mink?"
"You pig! I do not fuck like a mink."
"Oh, yeah. You should hear my tapes. I keep a little recorder hidden in the back seat."
"You don't!" Val said, though she wouldn't put it past him.
"How much money you got? Buy 'em back right now or I send them to your mother."
"You asshole," Val said, and both of them laughed.
It was beginning to get cold in the car so Chris cranked over the engine and kicked in the heater. The defrosters started blowing. The windshield began to clear. And that was how they noticed that it had begun to snow. Large but scattered fluffy flakes were landing on the glass, melting, and slowly slipping down to the hood of the Volkswagen.
"Will you look at that?" Chris said, and he blew out a low whistle.
"I thought it rarely snowed down here on the coast."
"It doesn't. I've lived here all of my life and ... I mean this is mid-October. It's not supposed to snow."
"Well it is."
"Yeah, I can see that, silly. Come on. Let's fuck."
"Not tonight," Val said. "Let's go back to the dorms."
"Jesus, Val. We always fuck when we park."
"Not tonight, I said."
"Why?" Chris asked.
"Why? Because I want to get some sleep and it's already two a.m., that's why. Because I want to pass my exams, that's why. Because my mother works her ass to the bone up in Quesnel cooking in a restaurant so I can go to university, that's why. I get a little freedom and what do I do? Smoke my bloody brains out and hump each night away. Well I'm not going to fail. Come on, let's go to the dorms."
Chris slipped his hand up between Val Pritchard's thighs.
" JESUS !" the girl shouted, and she pushed him away. "Don't I have any say around here?"
Before the youth could answer, she swung the car door open and jumped out into the night.
"Get your shit together, man. And get off my self-esteem!" Val slammed the door shut and stomped off through the curtain of snow.
"Women," Chris muttered.
For several seconds he just sat in the driver's seat, rubbing mist from the inside of the windshield, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl through the tumbling snow. She was heading toward the totem poles, of that he was certain. From there Val would pick up one of the paths that led back to the campus. That is unless she lost her way, walked off the cliff, and fell over one hundred feet to Wreck Beach below. So he opened the
Now they were parked on an access road near the Museum of Anthropology. Normally they would have been able to see the building in the distance with its great glass walls sixty feet high, a modern showcase for the totem art of the Pacific Coast Indian tribes. They would have looked out through the windshield on several carved poles that stood in front of the Museum. But tonight a fog rose from the ground and they could see nothing at all.
Chris reached for Val's breast again.
"Hey, listen, Chris. Really, we've got to talk. I do not want to fail."
"Fail?" he said, laughing at her. "You're not going to fail. This is only October. Exams aren't till December."
Chris Seaton was a blond-haired youth, eighteen years old. Val Pritchard had met him at a freshman dance four weeks ago. She had liked his mirthful eyes, his strong, square chin, and the fact he was always laughing. Now she was beginning to realize that he laughed a little too much.
"You know your problem?" she said. "You got laughter anxiety."
"Great. The chick enrolls in first year psychology, attends four or five classes, and she's got me analyzed. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I'm just horny?"
"You're horny cause you're anxious. You got a buried neurosis."
"And you? What's your cop-out for fucking like a mink?"
"You pig! I do not fuck like a mink."
"Oh, yeah. You should hear my tapes. I keep a little recorder hidden in the back seat."
"You don't!" Val said, though she wouldn't put it past him.
"How much money you got? Buy 'em back right now or I send them to your mother."
"You asshole," Val said, and both of them laughed.
It was beginning to get cold in the car so Chris cranked over the engine and kicked in the heater. The defrosters started blowing. The windshield began to clear. And that was how they noticed that it had begun to snow. Large but scattered fluffy flakes were landing on the glass, melting, and slowly slipping down to the hood of the Volkswagen.
"Will you look at that?" Chris said, and he blew out a low whistle.
"I thought it rarely snowed down here on the coast."
"It doesn't. I've lived here all of my life and ... I mean this is mid-October. It's not supposed to snow."
"Well it is."
"Yeah, I can see that, silly. Come on. Let's fuck."
"Not tonight," Val said. "Let's go back to the dorms."
"Jesus, Val. We always fuck when we park."
"Not tonight, I said."
"Why?" Chris asked.
"Why? Because I want to get some sleep and it's already two a.m., that's why. Because I want to pass my exams, that's why. Because my mother works her ass to the bone up in Quesnel cooking in a restaurant so I can go to university, that's why. I get a little freedom and what do I do? Smoke my bloody brains out and hump each night away. Well I'm not going to fail. Come on, let's go to the dorms."
Chris slipped his hand up between Val Pritchard's thighs.
" JESUS !" the girl shouted, and she pushed him away. "Don't I have any say around here?"
Before the youth could answer, she swung the car door open and jumped out into the night.
"Get your shit together, man. And get off my self-esteem!" Val slammed the door shut and stomped off through the curtain of snow.
"Women," Chris muttered.
For several seconds he just sat in the driver's seat, rubbing mist from the inside of the windshield, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl through the tumbling snow. She was heading toward the totem poles, of that he was certain. From there Val would pick up one of the paths that led back to the campus. That is unless she lost her way, walked off the cliff, and fell over one hundred feet to Wreck Beach below. So he opened the
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