on, heading in toward the campus.
“Boy, what’s his problem?” Keith asked, glancing over his shoulder. Marcy looked a little dazed, and he held out an arm to her. “Forget him. Probably sore because he had to go grocery shopping in the cold.”
To Keith’s surprise, Marcy waved away the arm. “Thanks. I’ll be okay now.” She huddled into her jacket, pulling the spare folds of cloth around to the torn side, and lowered her chin to protect her throat from the wind. The boy’s glance had disturbed her. She leaned into the wind, ignoring the puzzled expression on Keith’s face. “Come on. It’s late.”
“Right,” Keith agreed, hurrying after her.
***
Chapter 6
It wasn’t much warmer the next day. In the shelter of a brick gatepost across from Marcy’s apartment, Keith was congratulating himself on remembering to wear two sweaters under his coat, but regretting that he’d left his hat behind. Other students brushed by, some glancing his way, but most of them ignoring him, not wanting to turn their necks in the cold wind. A girl gave him a sideways look, and he smiled. “Hi, there,” he offered. She turned away quickly, dismissing him. He sighed. “Cold-shouldered again. Nice day for it, though.”
Overhead, the heavy sky was turning slate and dark purple. The National Weather Service had suggested that the first flurries of snow might be on their way; if not now, then certainly before the end of the month. Keith shrugged, huddling his ears into his collar. There was no such thing as an easy Midwestern winter. One just hoped the inevitable wouldn’t be too early in coming.
Broken brown leaves swirled through the iron tines of the gate, and collected, rustling, in the shelter between Keith and the corner of the wall. The wind increased in velocity, whipping the students from a walk to a run between the class buildings. Keith felt his nose and ears growing frosty and numb, and he tried not to think about them.
White sheets of paper cartwheeled down the sidewalk, pursued by their owner, a honey-blonde-haired girl in a pink aviator’s jacket, waving an empty folder and yelling over the howling chorus of the wind. A few of the pages swirled in behind him, and he managed to trap them against the wall without crumpling them too much. He stepped out of his hiding place to help her gather up the rest.
“Thanks,” she gasped, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “It’s my research paper.” Keith held the portfolio open while she shuffled the fluttering pages together. From the depths of a pocket full of oddments, he found a large paper clip which he offered to the girl. She secured the paper to the folder, flipped it shut, and smiled up at him. Her eyes were blue-green and very pretty. “Thanks again.”
“No problem. You know us Boy Scouts,” Keith said, becoming interested in pursuing the conversation, then over her shoulder caught sight of Marcy emerging from her apartment. He had to make a rapid choice between duty and pleasure, and curiosity won. “’Scuse me. Duty calls.” He dodged out of sight behind the gate, and waited until Marcy had passed, heading toward the library. The girl in pink gave him an odd look, and went away without further comment.
O O O
He stayed outside the library until he could see which direction she was going through the glass doors. The heavy bronze frames creaked as he hauled one of them outward into the wind. Two other students behind him caught the metal door’s edge, which burned their fingers with cold, and together they pulled it open. The wind shook it in fierce protest as they struggled inside. The thick plate glass windows thundered.
Keith kept to the edges of the foyer until Marcy showed her pass and entered the library stacks. Curious, he found his own stack pass, and went in behind her.
He almost lost his quarry on the ground level, until he noticed the fire stairwell door hissing shut. No one was allowed to use those stairs except the librarians.
“Boy, what’s his problem?” Keith asked, glancing over his shoulder. Marcy looked a little dazed, and he held out an arm to her. “Forget him. Probably sore because he had to go grocery shopping in the cold.”
To Keith’s surprise, Marcy waved away the arm. “Thanks. I’ll be okay now.” She huddled into her jacket, pulling the spare folds of cloth around to the torn side, and lowered her chin to protect her throat from the wind. The boy’s glance had disturbed her. She leaned into the wind, ignoring the puzzled expression on Keith’s face. “Come on. It’s late.”
“Right,” Keith agreed, hurrying after her.
***
Chapter 6
It wasn’t much warmer the next day. In the shelter of a brick gatepost across from Marcy’s apartment, Keith was congratulating himself on remembering to wear two sweaters under his coat, but regretting that he’d left his hat behind. Other students brushed by, some glancing his way, but most of them ignoring him, not wanting to turn their necks in the cold wind. A girl gave him a sideways look, and he smiled. “Hi, there,” he offered. She turned away quickly, dismissing him. He sighed. “Cold-shouldered again. Nice day for it, though.”
Overhead, the heavy sky was turning slate and dark purple. The National Weather Service had suggested that the first flurries of snow might be on their way; if not now, then certainly before the end of the month. Keith shrugged, huddling his ears into his collar. There was no such thing as an easy Midwestern winter. One just hoped the inevitable wouldn’t be too early in coming.
Broken brown leaves swirled through the iron tines of the gate, and collected, rustling, in the shelter between Keith and the corner of the wall. The wind increased in velocity, whipping the students from a walk to a run between the class buildings. Keith felt his nose and ears growing frosty and numb, and he tried not to think about them.
White sheets of paper cartwheeled down the sidewalk, pursued by their owner, a honey-blonde-haired girl in a pink aviator’s jacket, waving an empty folder and yelling over the howling chorus of the wind. A few of the pages swirled in behind him, and he managed to trap them against the wall without crumpling them too much. He stepped out of his hiding place to help her gather up the rest.
“Thanks,” she gasped, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “It’s my research paper.” Keith held the portfolio open while she shuffled the fluttering pages together. From the depths of a pocket full of oddments, he found a large paper clip which he offered to the girl. She secured the paper to the folder, flipped it shut, and smiled up at him. Her eyes were blue-green and very pretty. “Thanks again.”
“No problem. You know us Boy Scouts,” Keith said, becoming interested in pursuing the conversation, then over her shoulder caught sight of Marcy emerging from her apartment. He had to make a rapid choice between duty and pleasure, and curiosity won. “’Scuse me. Duty calls.” He dodged out of sight behind the gate, and waited until Marcy had passed, heading toward the library. The girl in pink gave him an odd look, and went away without further comment.
O O O
He stayed outside the library until he could see which direction she was going through the glass doors. The heavy bronze frames creaked as he hauled one of them outward into the wind. Two other students behind him caught the metal door’s edge, which burned their fingers with cold, and together they pulled it open. The wind shook it in fierce protest as they struggled inside. The thick plate glass windows thundered.
Keith kept to the edges of the foyer until Marcy showed her pass and entered the library stacks. Curious, he found his own stack pass, and went in behind her.
He almost lost his quarry on the ground level, until he noticed the fire stairwell door hissing shut. No one was allowed to use those stairs except the librarians.
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