omething special.

"Well, I saw lots of her. Lots. Pretty girl, nice family and everything,
but she liked her booze and she liked to pet. Awful hot kid. Well, one
night we went to a dance, and between dances we had a lot of gin I had
brought with me. Good stuff, too. I bought it off a guy who brought it
down from Canada himself. Where was I? Oh, yes, at the dance. We both
got pie-eyed; I was all liquored up, and I guess she was, too. After the
dance was over, I dared her to walk over to South Bristol--that's just
across the island, you know--and then walk back again. Well, we hadn't
gone far when we decided to sit down. We were both kinda dizzy from the
gin. You have to go through the woods, you know, and it's dark as hell
in there at night.... We sat down among some ferns and I began to pet
her. Don't know why--just did.... Oh, hell! what's the use of going
into details? You can guess what happened."

Hugh sat suddenly erect. "You didn't--"

Carl stood up and stretched. "Yeah," he yawned, "I did it. Lots of times
afterwards."

Hugh was dazed. He didn't know what to think. For an instant he was
shocked, and then he was envious. "Wonder if Janet would have gone the
whole way," flitted across his mind. He instantly dismissed the
question; he felt that it wasn't fair to Janet. But Carl? Gosh!

Carl yawned again. "Great stuff," he said nonchalantly. "Sleepy as hell.
Guess I'll hit the hay." He eyed Hugh suspiciously. "You aren't shocked,
are you? You don't think I'm a moral leper or anything like that?" He
attempted to be light but wasn't altogether successful.

"Of course not." Hugh denied the suggestion vehemently, and yet down in
his heart he felt a keen disappointment. He hardly knew why he was
disappointed, but he was. "Going to bed?" he asked as casually as he
could.

"Yeah. Good night."

"Good night, old man."

Each boy went to his own bedroom, Hugh to go to bed and think Carl's
story over. It thrilled him, and he envied Carl, and yet--and yet he
wished Carl hadn't done it. It made him and Carl different--sorta not
the same; no that wasn't it. He didn't know just what the trouble was,
but there was a sharp sting of disillusionment that hurt. He would have
been more confused had he known what was happening in Carl's room.

Carl had walked into his own bedroom, lighted the light, and closed the
door. Then he walked to the dresser and stared at himself in the mirror,
stared a long time as if the face were so