Campbell Wood (8 page)

Fay
MacGregor
had become indispensible. She knew every inch of the library, and, since her other duties were so light, she was able to help him just about any time he asked. Though she still produced a strange stirring in Mark, mostly in just the seemingly unconsciously erotic way she comported herself, he had come to look on her as a friend. She seemed genuinely interested in his various areas of research.

"Today you have the whole place to yourself," she said, when he greeted her at the front desk. "We'll be closing early for the next couple of weeks, and most of them just give up when they hear things like that."

"Fine with me," Mark said. "Know what I've been working on this week?" He ticked off the articles on his fingers. "A piece about two-headed people; another about some cult that swears there's another moon circling the earth which
we
never see because it's hiding behind the real one; and a long article about a guy who says he can talk to plants and get them to talk back. And the last one is for real, since the guy is a UCLA professor and has been working on plant intelligence for twenty years."

Fay smiled.

Mark said, "Could you set the projection room up for me in an hour or two?" He produced a slide cassette and a tape from his briefcase. "Got this in the mail on loan for a couple of days; it's a thing the Ames Research Center put together on new findings on Mars."

She took the materials and set them down on her desk. "I'll let you know when it's ready."

"Thanks." Mark smiled and then almost had to look away. He couldn't shake the feeling that Fay was acting very strangely. He knew it must be his imaginatio
n
like on the first day he'd met her—but he couldn't help sensing sexual signals from her. Today she looked almost flushed. There was an odd look in those huge eyes, and her hands seemed positively hot when she'd taken the slide paraphernalia from him.

Still have to look into that lust at first sight thing,
he thought.

When Fay poked her head into his cubicle two hours later to tell him she had the slides set up, he looked at his watch and whistled.

"Can't believe it's two already. Be over in ten minutes?"

"Don't forget we're closing early," she whispered.

When the lights darkened in the audiovisual theater fifteen minutes later, Mark sat in the center row, surrounded by notes. There was a low, droning narration, which Mark was afraid would put him to sleep in no time at all. But when the first slide clicked into focus his attention was immediately held by the crystal-clear view it showed of the Martian landscape at dawn. There was frost on some of the rocks in the foreground and, distinctly, wisps of fog vapor here and there.

Like a dream world,
Mark thought.

He barely noticed the soft hiss and snick of the door to the theater opening and closing behind him and was startled when Fay slipped into the seat beside him and whispered, "Mind if I watch this with you?"

"Sure," he whispered back. Her sloe eyes looked up at him, and he had to shake off that feeling of attraction again.

This time he wasn't imagining it. She was sitting unnaturally close, and his attention was slowly pulled from the slides by the uncomfortably present heat of her body. He stole a quick look; she seemed to be watching the screen intently. With an effort he turned his attention back to the presentation. In a few minutes the spectacular shots from another planet had him hooked again.

It came as a complete shock to find that Fay had quietly placed her hand on his leg.
My God,
he thought, as much in the realization that he was instantly stimulated as in surprise. With a deft motion she slipped her hand behind his belt.

A part of Mark's mind was trying to hold on to rationality. The whole thing had happened so fast, and his emotions were so mixed up, that he didn't know how to react. It had already gone too far. Something told him, don't do this, think of Ellen, think of a thousand other things; but that part of him was being pushed further and further back in his mind.

Then he was beyond that point. Something happened inside him, some ancient relay clicked on, and he reached over to her, losing at the touch of her what little control he had left. Fay's lips were parted, her eyes unfocused. She was panting.

Suddenly her clothes seemed to melt away, and they were nearly fighting each other. Mark's notes and papers scattered.

Somewhere off in the distance there was the
drone of the slide narration and the click-click of the changing slides.

And then it was over.

Mark's breathing slowed to a pant and then to evenness. With the same fluid motion she had used climbing out of her clothes, Fay got back into them and was gone. There was the hiss of the audiotape running out; the only light was the naked brightness of the projector beam on the empty screen.

Mark rolled slowly into a sitting position and struggled into his clothing. After gathering his scattered papers together he stumbled out of the theater to find Fay sitting at her desk.

"I have to close up now," she said, not looking up at him. Her tone was different now, almost chilly.

"Fay—" he began, but then the same embarrassment that had possessed him the first time he had met her overcame him and he stopped. Once again, he felt
as
if he were seventeen years old.

She wouldn't look up at him.

He walked quickly to his car, forgetting even to put on his overcoat.
Jesus Christ,
he thought,
what have I done?
It was obvious she had planned to seduce him all along. Or was it? He certainly hadn't tried to stop her. He thought of Ellen and guilt began to set in.

What the hell am I going to do now?

He opened the car door, thinking to go back in and straighten it all out with Fay immediately, but
then closed it again. It was no good. They were both too upset to do anything about it now.

He shook his head and looked through the windshield. The sky was beginning to darken noticeably. The days were getting shorter and shorter.

Lust at first sight,
he thought.

This time he didn't laugh.

W
hen Kaymie walked into the auditorium they were all staring at her.

Her heart sank. She had thought this would be different. She could almost understand all the cold shoulders she had gotten in class; after all, she was the new kid on the block and they all had a right to check her out. But this was a drama club. They were supposed to welcome her here. Ms.
McGreary
had been on her from the very beginning to join, telling her it would be a good way to break the ice, and here they were giving her the chilly stare the first time she came to a rehearsal.

She almost turned to walk out, but Ms.
McGreary
was there then, walking down the aisle to bring her in.

"Kaymie!" she said, smiling. "We've been waiting for you."

I bet,
Kaymie thought. She recognized a couple of the hostile faces waiting by the stage. Some of them were in her classes. All of them up to now had made believe she didn't exist.

Ms.
McGreary
escorted her up the aisle. Halfway there she reached out to take
Kaymie's
arm but then pulled back. "I'm so glad you came!" Her smile seemed forced.

What have I got, rabies or something?

Again Kaymie wanted to turn and run but now it was too late. They were all standing there in front of her, and a silence had dropped on them.

"Well," Ms.
McGreary
said. She kept rubbing her hands together
as if there were something on them she wanted to get off. "I
think we can get right to the tryouts. You all know we're doing
A Midsummer Night's Dream.
Why don't you all get your paperbacks out and turn to your places?" She turned to Kaymie, and for a moment there seemed to be a genuine smile there. "Did you memorize the part I talked with you about?"

Kaymie nodded, and once more Ms.
McGreary's
smile shifted to a nervous fluttering.

"Good," she said, turning and quickly mounting the steps to the stage and disappearing behind it. After a moment a bank of spotlights flashed on, throwing up yellow light from the waxed floor of the stage.

At that moment, Kaymie felt the same thrill she always felt when she saw a lit stage. There was something about it that was magic. There was even a particular smell about it—a waxy, slightly hot but at the same time cool odor like no other in the world. In the couple of productions she had been in
in
her old school, she had never had a lead, but she had always been happy just to be out on stage, no matter how small the part. When the curtain went up the world went away, and there were only the shiny boards below, the lights above, and the words to be spoken. Though she sometimes had trouble with the words, the rest of it always cast a spell on her.

Ms.
McGreary
said from the front of the stage, "I think we'll start with the part of Oberon. Jim and Bill, you come up here, and we'll see who can handle it best."

Two boys, one with dark and the other with light brown hair, trudged up the steps. One was only slightly less clumsy with the lines than the other, and finally Ms.
McGreary
, in an understanding voice, chose Bill, and Jim was given a lesser part.

Kaymie waited as other students went up, reading for part after part. Ms.
McGreary
, with the same kind tone, chose one over the others and soothed egos by immediately assigning other parts. Kaymie was curious to see who she would be reading with. There didn't seem to be too many girls left.

After two fifth graders were appointed scene-changers unless someone had to drop out, Ms.
McGreary
suddenly said, "I guess we're all set, then. Rehearsal begins next Thursday afternoon, same time. I'll expect you at least to have some of your lines memorized perfectly by then."

She began to walk to the back of the stage when Kaymie spoke up.

"Ms.
McGreary
, what about Queen
Titania
? We haven't read for that part yet." She looked around for support, but once again the others were only looking at her blankly.

Ms.
McGreary
stopped. "Oh, you've got the part, Kaymie," she said. "No one else is going to read for it."

Kaymie was both elated and stunned.

"No one else wants to try out for it?"

Ms.
McGreary
shook her head, giving what looked like another forced smile. "It's all yours, Kaymie."

"Don't you even want me to read through it?"

"I've heard your voice in class, and there's nothing wrong with it. I think you'll do fine."

Kaymie was clutching her paperback copy of the play so tightly that the binding was cracking. What was going on here? Was she some sort of leper, to be given whatever she wanted as long as she stayed away? This was even worse than in class; there her shunning had seemed merely impersonal, here it was obviously deliberate.

She was getting upset. Ms.
McGreary
looked as if she was struggling with herself. She abruptly walked down the steps and put an arm around Kaymie. Kaymie felt the arm on her; it was trembling.

"Kaymie, what's wrong?"

"Why are you treating me like this?" she answered. She was nearly crying, and she could feel her eyes burning, filling with tears. "What's wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you," Ms.
McGreary
said. She knelt down and looked into
Kaymie's
face. Kaymie saw a mixture of panic and concern there; then there was only concern. Ms.
McGreary's
arm stopped trembling, and she held Kaymie by the shoulders more firmly.

"Would you like to read a little for us?" she asked softly.

"I don't know," Kaymie answered.

"Read just a little," Ms.
McGreary
said, and she pushed Kaymie gently toward the stage.

Kaymie walked up the steps slowly. She looked up, and saw the soft spotlights above her bending their light down to bathe her. She was standing in the center of the stage, and there was complete silence. Ms.
McGreary's
face had an expectant look on it.