Dawn of a New Day (2 page)

Dicus had a temper too, and releasing Prue, he came out of his seat, and with a roar of anger threw a punch that caught Mark on the neck and shoved him over against Debbie, who cried out, “Look out, Mark….”

Dicus was on his feet, reaching over for Mark, but Mark also rose and hit Dicus full in the mouth. This cut Dicus's lip so blood appeared, and with a cry of rage, he flung himself at Mark, throwing his arms around him. The two fell to the floor, Debbie began screaming, and Prue swiveled around, her eyes wide. The whole class began crying out as the two boys thrashed and pitted each other, awkwardly rolling and falling into desks.

The fight did not last long, for Mr. Brawner, the principal, came in, followed by Mrs. Brown. Brawner was a large man, well over six feet and very muscular. He reached down, grabbed Dicus by the collar, and jerked him upright. Mark scrambled to his feet as the principal said, “What's wrong with you two? Fighting in a classroom! Both of you come with me!”

Dicus whined, “It was his fault! He started it! He just up and hit me!”

“Shut your mouth, Leon! I've had enough of you! Now, come on! Mark, I'm a little surprised at you.”

Prue wanted to cry out, “It wasn't his fault,” but she could only stand there and watch as the two boys were hauled off by the husky principal.

“All of you get back in your seats and finish the test,” Mrs. Brown said icily. She waited until they started and then stood looking at them. She had put in years of teaching, and a fight was nothing new to her, although in the classroom it was a little different. Finally the bell rang, and as she was taking the papers, she heard Debbie Peters say to Prudence Deforge, “It was all your fault! All you had to do was give him the answers!” Mrs. Brown caught this whisper and was able to figure out the rest. As Prudence started to leave, she stopped her and said, “I'm very happy with your work this year, Prudence.” She saw the girl's lips tremble and knew she was terribly disturbed by the fight. “Try not to let it bother you, dear,” she said. “There'll always be bullies like Leon.” She smiled and put her hand on the girl's thin shoulder. “But sometimes there are good boys around—like Mark Stevens.”

Prue managed to avoid the students who wanted to talk about the fight all day, but after school when she got on the bus and sat down looking out the window, she heard many of the kids say, “I bet Mark and Leon really got it from Mr. Brawner. He knows how to use a stick.”

Suddenly the seat settled, and she heard Mark saying, “Hey, that was some test, wasn't it?”

Prue turned to see that Mark had plopped down beside her and was smiling cheerfully. He was unwinding the chord of the earphone that was attached to his radio and plugged it into his ear. Turning it on, he listened for a moment and then removed it and said, “Listen to this.” He held the earphone to her ear, and she heard Elvis singing “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” Mark grinned and said, “Do you like that bird, Elvis Presley?”

“I guess so.”

“Seems kind of weird to me the way he twists and jumps around, but all the girls seem to be crazy about him.” He listened to the song for a moment, then pulled out a packet of Juicy Fruit. “Here. Have a chew.”

Prue took a stick and unfolded the wrapper, but before she popped the gum in her mouth she said, “I'm sorry you got into all that trouble because of me, Mark.”

“Because of you? It wasn't because of you. It was that Neanderthal, Leon.”

“Did Mr. Brawner paddle you?”

“Ah, he gave us a few licks. Nothing to worry about. I had to go back and take the test over again. Didn't do too good, I don't think.”

Eileen Ferrell, sitting across from Mark, leaned over and said, “Leon says he's going to stomp you, Mark.”

“Let him fly right at it,” Mark said cheerfully.

Prue bit her lower lip and shook her head. “I hope you don't fight with him again.”

“So do I. It's hard on the hide rolling around punching at somebody. He'll probably forget it. He's too dumb to remember anything very long.”

The bus rumbled on, and Prue was relieved to see that Mark did not seem at all upset. She had been nervous all day and unable to give more than scant attention to the teachers. It didn't seem to matter though, for no matter how hard she tried, she never could make good grades.

When they got off the bus and it went roaring off with a cloud of diesel fumes, Prue felt she had to say something to Mark. “I thank you so much for sticking up for me,” she said timidly.

Mark turned and looked down at Prue. The sun struck her black hair, and her eyes looked almost black. He grinned and tapped her on the shoulder with his fist. “Hey! We're pals, aren't we? I can't have anyone trying to run over my buddy.”

“Thanks anyway.” She turned to go away but heard him call her name.

“Did you hear about the rally over in Fort Smith?”

“No, what is it about?”

“It's a political rally. John Kennedy thinks he's going to be president. He's doin' pretty good too.” Mark kept up with politics closely, and now he ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. “It looks to me like he's got a good shot at being president. May not get another chance to hear him. Don't know what he's coming to Fort Smith, Arkansas, for, but he is. You want to go? Dad said I could borrow the car, and I'm gonna go.”

It was the first time Mark had ever asked her to go anyplace in a car, and a thrill ran through Prue Deforge. “I–I'd like to, but I'll have to ask Momma and Daddy.”

“Ah, they won't care. They know old Mark Stevens is a trustworthy fellow. We'll leave right after school's out tomorrow. We'll have time to stop and get a burger somewhere after the rally. We'll be in late though. Tell your folks that.”

Prue whispered, “All right, Mark.” She turned and flew to the house and found her mother peeling potatoes in the kitchen. “Momma,” she said, “Mark wants me to go to a political rally over in Fort Smith tomorrow.”

“He does? Who all's going?”

“I don't know, but can I go?”

Violet Deforge turned and looked at this daughter of hers, and her heart seemed to swell. Other girls had had real dates at fifteen, although she knew she would not permit Prudence to do such a thing, but she knew Mark Stevens like he was her own. He had been in and out of the Deforge house since he could walk, and seeing the pleading look in Prudence's eyes, she said, “Well, you ask your daddy. He's out fixing the gate.”

“All right, Momma.” Prudence dashed out of the house and found her father wiring a gate together, and before he could say a word, she said, “Mark's going to a rally over in Fort Smith tomorrow. He's got his daddy's car, and he wants me to go with him. Can I go?”

“Whoa! Whoa up there!” Dent grinned. He got the story out of her and then pulled his straw hat off and stuck one thumb under the bib of his overalls. “I wouldn't even consider it if it was anybody except Mark,” he meditated, “but I guess it's okay.” He was driven backward as Prue threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. “We'll be in late, Daddy,” she cried. “Don't worry about us!”

Prue had spent two hours getting ready, scrubbing herself until her skin shone. She had only one dress that would be suitable for what she considered her first date with Mark Stevens, and after her shower she slipped into the polyester minidress in a bright, multicolored pattern with a scooped neck, short sleeves, and a dropped waistline where the bottom of the skirt was pleated. She worked on her hair, which she considered her best asset. It was thick and black, with a slight curl in it, and she had let it grow longer than the current fashion. There was nothing else to do, and she paced the room nervously; finally she went over to her chest of drawers and opened the drawer next to the bottom, which was filled with mementos and souvenirs. She withdrew a green, leather-bound volume, her diary, and carried it over to the desk and opened it. She took a gold Cross pen, also a gift from her parents, and began to write:

For a moment Prue paused and then added one sentence:

Prue's face flushed at the words, and she shut the diary quickly as if apprehended in a shameful deed. Quickly she went back and concealed it and for the next hour grew more and more nervous. She had taken a half day off from school, the first time she had ever done so, and by four o'clock she had driven her mother crazy.

“Well, there he is,” Violet said. “You have a good time.” She hugged her daughter and watched her as she ran out to the Chevrolet station wagon that had pulled up. She walked out on the porch, saying, “Now, you be careful. Drive slow. You hear me, Mark?”

“Yes, ma'am, I always do. Don't worry now. We'll be back pretty late. It might be one or two o'clock.”

Prue settled down in the front seat, and Mark said, “Hey, you look nice. A new dress?”

“Yes,” Prue said shyly. “I'm so excited to be going.”

Mark was wearing a pair of charcoal gray slacks, a tan shirt, and a pair of brown saddle oxfords. As he drove quickly out of the driveway, he said, “We'll have to pick the others up, then we're on our way.”

Prue sat silently for a moment and felt something close around her heart. “The others?”

“Oh, didn't I tell you? Yea, John Tyler's going with us. He's sold on Kennedy—and Debbie is going too, of course.”

Mark continued to speak happily of the trip, but if Prue had had her way, she would have gotten out of the car and gone back home. She sat silently as Mark stopped to pick up John, Mark's best friend, who greeted them both cheerfully and got in the backseat, saying, “Better get back here with me now, Prue. You know who's gonna want to sit in the front with Mark.”

Prue silently got into the backseat beside John, and he began at once talking about the primaries for the presidential election. She knew nothing of this and could only nod and make an agreeable noise from time to time.

Debbie's parents lived in a large house just outside Cedarville. Her father was in real estate, and the Peters were one of the wealthiest families in the county. Debbie came out wearing a light blue polyester minidress that clung to her figure provocatively, had a V-neckline, short sleeves, and was trimmed with a band of darker blue ribbon. Mark, who had gone in to get her, opened the door for her, then went around to take his seat behind the wheel. “You look like a beauty queen, Debbie,” he said, grinning.

“Why, thank you, Mark.” Debbie smiled and sat close to him as he started the car up. She turned toward the backseat and said rather coolly, “Hello, Prue. Hello, John.” She took their greetings, then turned around and scooted closer to Mark. “This is going to be such fun! You're going to tell me all about politics.”