The Criminal by Jim Thompson Page A

the blouse up out of them, unbuttoning it and turning it back. And-.
    I was down on the ground with her, hugging and kissing and-.
    "Bobbie!" she said, kind of mad-laughing. "Now, wait a minute, silly!"
    "J-Josie," I said. "F-For g-g-gosh-"
    "You hear me, Bobbie? I'm going to be mad, now! Y-You'll-Please, Bobbie! W-Wait. – We c-can't-you can't do it that… Bobbie! "
    So we did it, and she didn't seem mad then, but afterwards she was. She said just to look at her and how could she go home with blood on her and it was all my fault and she had a good notion to tell her mother I'd made her.
    "I'm sorry, Josie," I said. "For gosh sake, I didn't mean to. How many times I got to tell you that?"
    "A lot of good that does," she said. "It's all your fault."
    "Well, you'd better not blame it on me," I said. "You'd better not go blabbing to your folks about me."
    "Ho, ho!" she said. "Well, I know I got to do something. You certainly can't expect me to take all the blame."
    I began to get scared. I thought about Dad and the time Jack Eddleman had raised such a fuss, and, now, well, now, there was really something to fuss about, and if he acted that way then, what would he do now.
    "I could wash them out for you in the creek," I said. "You want me to do that, Josie?"
    "Pooh!" She jerked away from me. "Cold water and no soap. A lot of good that would do!"
    "Well," I said. "Well-uh-well, maybe-"
    "Well, go on and say it," she said. "If you've got anything to say, say it!"
    "I'm trying to, ain't I?" I said. "What do you think I'm trying to do, anyway? Shut up a minute, for gosh sake, and give me a chance."
    "Well, go on," she said. "And don't you dare tell me to shut up, Mr. Bobbie Talbert!"
    "Maybe-well, maybe," I said, "you could kind of sneak up behind those bushes at the top of the cliff, and when you see your mother talking to someone you could slip around the block and come up the alley to your house and get into some other clothes."
    "And what would I do with these?" she said. And then she said, "Well, I guess I could. I could spill ink on them or something and put them in the dirty clothes, and maybe, well, I guess that would be all right."
    "Will you, Josie?" I said. "Will you do that?"
    "Maybe."
    "Promise," I said.
    "Maybe. I will if I can."
    "But why the heck can't you?" I said. "I told you just how to do it, and you said you could so what's the maybe about?"
    She shrugged, looking at me out of the corner of her eyes. And I knew she would do it; she just had to and she knew it as well as I did, so why wouldn't she promise?
    I guessed she must have been sore, and not entirely because of her clothes. She felt like I did now. I guessed, kind of sore and mean and tired and dirty-feeling. It was funny how you could feel one way a couple minutes before, and then just the opposite now. I felt just as crummy as she did, only I couldn't act like she did. I had to go on coaxing and begging her to promise.
    "Look at me, Josie," I said. "I got some on my clothes, too, and I'm not mad. I don't try to make you feel bad about it."
    "Oh, pooh," she said. "It's different with a boy. Anyway, it's all your fault. You don't have any right to be mad!"
    "You wouldn't-you'll do it like I said, won't you, Josie?" I said. "Won't you, Josie?"
    "I said I would. Maybe."
    "No maybe, darn it! You've got to promise."
    "Maybe. I said maybe, and I mean maybe," she said.
    She gave me another of those looks out of the corner of her eyes. And I knew she was just being spitey; she just had to do it, doggone it. But, well, what if she didn't? A crazy old girl like that, there was no telling what she might do.
    I began to get scareder. Scareder and sorer. All at once I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.
    "I'll show you!" I said. "Doggone you, you promise or I'll-I'll-"
    "Pooh, ho-ho," she said. "Just what will you do, anyway?"
    "You'll see. You better promise," I said. "Promise?"
    "Maybe," she said. "That's what I promise. Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe,