"My dad's a union man, and he's gonna vote for Kennedy," argued Randy."My dad's a union man, and he's gonna vote for Kennedy," argued Randy. "Baloney!" Mike always had an answer. "My old man showed me a book where it says Kennedy's a communist! If Nixon don't win, the whole army'll kill Kennedy and all the communists and everybody, and he'll be President, anyway! What do you know! You're only in sixth grade!" "Well, I'm in eighth, and ..." Larry started. "Aw, shut up, sissy!" yelled Mike, and the others quickly chimed in, Randy loudest of all. Larry just stopped and turned his back to them. They left after a minute, laughing while they walked. He tried to remember what his mom had told him, that they just called him a sissy because they knew it made him cry. He knew he wasn't a sissy! Why did they keep saying it? Larry chose to take the short cut home, the one through the little three-story professional office building, to avoid further teasing from his classmates. He knew the path through the lobby, out the back, and over the fence to his own block. As he passed under the lobby stairs, he looked up at the sounds of footsteps in the otherwise empty room. An attractive woman had stopped about five steps from the top, going through her purse and mumbling to herself. That's one reason he liked this short cut; there were plenty of "real pretty ladies" there, ladies who wore stylish dresses and high-heeled shoes and lots of makeup, just like on TV. He approached the stairs quietly, and more than a little fearfully. |