Pretty Maids All in a Row 413 marks? Could it really be what he thought? How could it? For up to now, Ponce had only grasped part of the matter, the horror had only been associated with the names crossed off. Now—more. He saw more. With a fresh wave of agony he began to realize fully just how much more. His acute intelligence and imagination suddenly flared and filled in the full details. It was before his eyes. And he was rocked—to the depths of his soul. He wanted to cry out, a cry that would echo through all history, and eternity, and reach the very ends of the universe: What Kind Of A World Was I Born Into? He thought of his echoing cry down the hallway that morning. He thought of Betty. His eye was still locked on that precious name, on that list. He couldn’t believe it. He had to. He thought of Tiger, whose image lay shattered about him in a million bits and pieces, forever more. He slumped back in that chair even more. What to do? He was overwhelmed, Just what was he supposed to do? He wasn’t about to take off on another run, of that, he was determined. He held the list, acutely aware through all the agony that he had come to a terrible crossroads in his young life. His life. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. That too he wanted to cry out. What should he do? What was there to do—with his discovery? Surcher? Take it to Surcher? Put it back? Forget about it? Let somebody else find it—one day? What would the score be? Or—tear up the list? Or—just remain sitting there, until someone came in? Would Tiger come in? What would happen, if he came in? Would he join the list? He hadn't seen the Chiefs name on the list—Would he just disappear? With the list? Was that it? Ponce moaned. He was aware of the moan. He wanted to talk to Tiger. He almost wished he would come in. Maybe if he could only talk with him. . . . Ponce was stuck at that crossroads. He just sat there. He only saw all the alternatives, crystal clear. . . . Surcher—that was the sane, the only rational thing to do. . . . He knew. He thought about that. He thought about all those girls—on the list. On active status, on the list. He thought of the game. The team. That great team. It would go to hell. He knew well. He could have cried. He was in agony. Who could help him? It would just all go to hell, the team, the school, everything. All to Hell. He knew well. Well he knew. The shock alone would wreck everything. And those girls. Betty. He wanted to die. Was it the end of the line? Was that how things were—in this life? He was plunged into the most profound crisis of his entire life. He was in anguish—and suddenly also angry. Why him? Why, at such a tender point of his life, should he have to face such a crisis, terrible in the extreme? It was enough to poleax the most seasoned of human beings, adult stage. Why should he have to stand at those crossroads, agonizing beyond belief? He hated it. His tender age. Why was he selected for it? He wanted to run like lightning from it. Ben Shingle. He thought of him. . . . Everything was going along so smoothly. He really hated it. That stupid piece of paper. ... He thought of his mother. His father. Rusty Joe, Peppy. Surcher. His thoughts stayed with Peppy, that cute little animal, innocent little creature if ever there was one. or could be, anywhere, on this earth, anytime. . . . He knew he had to face it. There was absolutely no getting away from it. The sane thing. To do. His eyes were wet. His face was getting wet. The list was blurred. How he loved that little animal. He wished she were here now, so he could hold her, and stroke her. Betty. The tears flowed. He sat there, staring at that blurred list. Tiger. He wept . . . The moment, the event for all of them, was momentous, he knew, and ineradicable, well he knew. ... A million years from now, he was sure, he would still see himself, here, staring trancelike at that list. . . . no matter what he finally decided to do ... or who might walk in that door. . . .
7- AVĖ.
“A novel of sex and ambition. . . . Everybody is going to be reading SEVENTH AVENXJE”
—Washington Star
SEVENTH AVENUE
by Norman Bogner
From showroom to bedroom, a bold novel about New York's glittering fashion world.
“Norman Bogner has created characters who are real, capable of being loved, hated, pitied and above all, believed. His work is about hunger and passion, sex and love, hatred and revenge, pity and disgust, dissipation and nobility. It is life.”
—Nashville Banner
“The scorching success of Jay Blackman . . . ripping his way from a two-bit basement peddling rags to become a multi-millionaire operator . . . enormous, penetrating and perceptive”
—Portland Sunday Telegram
“A narrative gift ... a sure hand with character . . . convincing . . . impressive”
—Saturday Review Syndicate
A DELL BOOK 95*
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NICHOLAS AND ALEXANDRA by Robert K. Massie $1.25
THE DOCTOR’S QUICK WEIGHT LOSS DIET
by I. Maxwell Stillman and S. Sinclair Baker 95c
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TIGER'S SCORECARD Jill Fairbunn Marjorie Evanmore * f* **
Hilda Linder ¥■ Jeannie Benni УУ1
Mary Holden У Peggy Linski У»У»У*
Rochelle Hudson Anne Williams УУ*
Marie Amis Sally Swink У *
Kathy Bums У* ¥ Yvonne Mellish У1^
Sandra Seymour У У Alice Patmore if
Sonya (Sonny) Swingel У У Mona Drake УСУ» i Barbara Brook У У Betty Smith У У У *
Hetty Nectar У*У У Looby Loo У У
Mrs. Mortlake (?)
"Sex, Sex, Sex is what Pretty Maids All in A Row is about, and it is going to be a great, big, whopping bestseller... not because of its obsession with sex, but because, primarily, it is an original and absorbing story, laced with characters who stand out in three-dimension."
Hollywood Reporter
COVER ILLUSTRATION: LIVOTI
PRINTED IN U.S.A.