At the Twilight's Last Gleaming (21 page)

Needless to say, I was overwhelmed by all the attention.

Somehow, though, I managed to overcome my shock.

I looked up.

“Emory! What’s going on?” I said.

“Something I need to talk to you about. Alone, I’m afraid,” he said. Suddenly looking very formal — and demanding — he stepped around and held out his hand.

Very bemused, I took it and allowed him to help me up.

“Excuse me, Peter,” I said. “Maybe we can talk later.”

“Oh sure, Rebecca,” said Peter, obviously unused to anything resembling rejection and inattention.

Emory led me over to an alcove near the stage, right behind a limp American flag. He looked over to the group, and clearly judged the position was well out of earshot.

“What’s happening, Emory?” I said.

“Rebecca, you look — very nice,” he said.

“Well thank you, but you dragged me all the way over to tell me that I look nice?”

“No. Something very important is happening.”

He paused for a moment, as though gathering himself together. He looked very sweet and handsome, I thought.

“So tell me, tell me, Emory!” I smiled encouragingly.

“It’s President Johnson. President Lyndon Johnson. He’s coming today!”

“The President? Today?”

“Yes. The dedication. It’s going to be at Noon, out in the new courtyard between the regular school and the vocational school. Looks like they worked all weekend to set it up.”

“He’s going to make a speech?”

“Yes. His helicopter is coming at 11:30 AM. Ceremony is at noon and that’s when he makes his speech. All the radio and TV networks will cover it.”

“Oh how exciting!” I said. “Sounds like quite the day for Principal Canthorpe. But what’s that got to do with me?”

“Well, Daddy’s going to be there.”

“Senator Clarke?”

“Yes. And he wants you, Rebecca, to be there too. “

“Me? What, at the ceremony?”

“Yes of course. There will be selected students in the audience at the ceremony. The teachers have already handled that. It will be a short ceremony and even though its cold, it’s a nice day outside, and they’ve cleared away most of the snow in the courtyard and set up a stand and seats. Heavy coats, of course, will be de rigueur. Yes, you can come to the ceremony, my father has provided clearance for you. But there’s also going to be a waiting room where LBJ will be until the speech, and then a short reception with local politicos and the school superintendent and such. Daddy wants me to be there. And Daddy wants you to be there!”

“Me?”

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

“He was quite impressed with you, Rebecca. Daddy wants to introduce you to LBJ!”

“To the President? He wants to introduce me to the President of the United States of America?”

My mouth must have dropped and my eyes gotten wide because Emory laughed.

“Yes. That’s right.”

“Oh my God! I don’t know if —”

“Oh LBJ can be a very courteous guy. And he just loves pretty young women! He can be very, very gracious. Daddy said, ‘Emory, that’s the kind of girl I’d like that old goat Johnson to see you with. It would make me so proud to have you there by my side with that delightful Rebecca Williams!’”

“You’ll be there too?”

“Of course. Why do you think I’ve got my Sunday go to meetin’ duds, as we say down home.”

The full impact of the invitation suddenly hit me.

I opened my mouth and nothing came out.

“Rebecca. Are you okay?”

I managed to suck in a nice deep breath.

“Yes. Yes, Emory.” I thought about that for a moment, then changed my mind. “Actually, no. No Emory! The President of the United States! They want me to meet Lyndon Johnson!”

“Oh, he’s all formal when he’s giving speeches, but I assure you when he’s backstage it’ll be Uncle Lyndon at the barbecue. You’ll do great!”

“You can understand though why I’ve got some nerves here.”

“Perhaps you should wear your blond wig. I’ll introduce you as Lucy.”

That unfroze me a bit. I laughed.

“Okay,” I said. “Very well. I’ll do it.”

“That’s just excellent!” said Emory. “Daddy will be so pleased.” Emory smiled and the world lit up. He leaned over and gave me a sweet kiss on the cheek. It took every bit of reserve in me not to hug him.

Smiling at me there and then, face open and handsome, I thought, I am crazy. There’s no way this nice boy could have bitten me in the neck! He’s no vampire! There are no such things as vampires! The world is a wonderful place full of angels and good, not demons and dark!

“So what do I have to do, then. To get out of class, I mean?”

“Ah, Daddy thinks of everything!” Emory pulled an envelope out of his jacket. “This will excuse you from your class at 11:00 AM. You just come on over then to the Vocational Faculty Lounge right by the courtyard and show them this too. This letter will also get you in.”

“Gosh, you know, I didn’t bring an ID!”

“That’s all right. I’ll be there, and Daddy will be there. If there’s any problem, Rebecca, you can be mighty sure we’ll vouch for you!”

If anything that smile of his got brighter.

“Rebecca, this is gonna be just great!”

“Wait a minute. What about Cheryl?” I said.

“What about Cheryl, Rebecca?”

“Will she be there?”

“Why yes, as a matter of fact. That’s why she’s not here. She’s getting’ ready.”

“Oh good,” I said. In fact, I wasn’t so sure. I was feeling a bit jealous now. I didn’t feel as super number one in Emory’s eyes. Cheryl Ames was going to get the same priviledge I was getting. That feeling passed soon enough, but a concern took its place.

“What about Harold?”

“Harold?” said Emory. “What about Harold?”

“I mean — “ I blurted, not really knowing why I was saying this, but saying it anyway. “I mean that Harold should go too!”

“Harold? Why?”

“He’s…Harold’s a visionary. He really actually thinks about the future. And he’s just thrilled with the space program. President Johnson’s just having a terrible year, what with Vietnam and everything and people aren’t giving him the credit he deserves. Like for keeping the space program in such high gear, you know!”

“And Harold Lumpkin is the one to tell him that?”

“It will come out a lot more sincerely than from me, that’s for sure!”

“Hmm. I see what you mean.” Emory cast a glance over to Harold. He smiled. “You know, maybe you’re right. Harold’s a good egg. Why not?”

“Oh, you’re just the best, Emory Clarke!”

I couldn’t restrain myself.

I grabbed him and kissed him on the lips.

He responded for a brief instant, and for a moment I was back in his bedroom, in that timeless moment we kissed.

But then he pulled back.

“We really haven’t talked about this, have we?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No. My fault.” He smiled again. “We will talk. Not now though, huh?”

“No. That’s fine.”

Yes, I thought then, and it was fine. Fine because even now I could see his regard for me in his eyes. It was troubled regard, true, but I could not doubt then that he had some feeling for me, at least. And certainly, it would seem, his father approved and encouraged at least our friendship.

“I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at eleven o’clock, right?” I said.

“Yes. Eleven o’clock.”

“Okay.”

He started to leave.

“And Emory,” I said.

“Yes?”

I realized that my hand was up at to my neck, holding the place where I’d seen the bite marks.

Now, the place throbbed a bit.

Emory turned around, and the smile was gone.

I swallowed back my doubt and fear.

“Thanks, Emory. I said. Thanks so much. And thank your father.”

He nodded and turned back and left me quickly.

I had to remember to start breathing again.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

W
HEN I GOT back to the table Peter Harrigan was gone, and Harold’s nose was back in his book.

“Where did Peter go?” I asked Harold.

“There was a certain lack of ego stroking going on here, I guess,” said Harold. “He saw someone across the room he desperately needed to speak with and —whoosh! — off he went.”

“That’s actually good,” I said.

Harold rolled his eyes. “Somebody finally gets what she wants and she doesn’t want it anymore.”

“Oh there will be plenty of time to talk to Peter later. Right now, I need to talk to you.”

“Me?”

“You.”

“How do I deserve that honor?”

“You sound upset,” I said.“

I’m just trying to read.”

“Okay, okay, but I do believe you’re going to like this.”

“I won’t know till I find out, will I?” he said in a dull monotone.

Something was definitely wrong with Harold. He just kind of slouched there in a grump. I knew it had something to do with me huddled over in the corner with Emory, but I didn’t see any need to dwell on it. After all, with the news I had for Harold, all that would pass soon and we’d all be happy and thrilled again.

“Okay, so,” I said. “You know, we’ve been talking about the President coming to a that vocational wing dedication ceremony?”

“Yeah? So?” Not even looking at me.

“Well, it’s today!”

“What’s today other than Monday?”

“The day!” I leaned in closer and whispered. “That’s what Emory took me aside to tell me. Lyndon Johnson is coming to Crossland. Today.”

He turned at looked at me.

“No kidding.”

“Would I kid a kidder?”

He turned back to his book. “So what does that have to do with me?”

“Well, there’s a reception. Some students get to meet him. You know, shake the President’s hand and all that.”

“Thrilling.” Again, monotone. “Oh, I get it. Emory’s father being a Senator and all, he’s invited you to shake the Presidential hand.”

“Yes! And you too, Harold.”

Harold blinked.

He looked up from his book, then swiveled his head over to me.

“What? Me?”

“Yes! You get to sit with me to listen to the President when he makes his speech. And you get to go with me and meet him.”

He looked genuinely shocked.

“Wow!”

“Isn’t that great?”

“But..I’m not wearing a suit!”

“You’re a student. You’re just wearing normal student clothes. That’s fine!”

Harold directed a wary glance at me. “Did you know about this before? Is that why you got all dolled up today?”

“No! I swear! I knew nothing about it. I just felt like wearing this today!”

He shrugged. “Well, it’s awfully coincidental.”

“This is great though, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yes it is. What do I have to do? I mean, when to go, where to do I go? What do I do?”

So I told him.

A
TYPICAL HIGH school day at Crossland is a buzzing, busy affair, full of bells and slamming doors, and echoing feet tromping up and down halls and stairs, accompanied by the din of student chattering.

This day the din seemed even louder and more animated.

You could almost smell the excitement in the air.

Something unusual. Something different.

Public schools in the United States always reminded me of hospitals in the United States. Cold and angular and kind of inhuman. Necessary places, but places you don’t really want to stick around in for any long period of time. I guess prisons anywhere are like that too, and I guess there was that element today here today at Crossland. A new prison true, and a prison you checked in and out of every day. But a prison nonetheless, with cells and cafeteria and the cheap regulation cleaning supplies.

Cell blocks clanged open and cell blocks clanged closed and bells rang often.

Today, it seemed, the inmates of Crossland Senior High Prison seemed a bit animated and restless.

Or was that just my imagination?

It hardly mattered. I had just been invited to a major event by a new, major person in my life. My thrill and excitement with the whole business allowed my spinning head to get some sense of direction and balance.

True, the hours before eleven o’clock dragged. There was a moment in English, as we talked about a Robert Browning poem, when I wondered if all this was really happening to me. The class was real, the poem before me was real, the teacher and the students were real. But was I really going to head out the door at bell-time and go down to the vocational wing to actually meet President Lyndon Johnson?