She lay on her side, her breathing gradually slowing. Her heart still hammered, but was trying to return to normal. She opened her eyes, slowly. She saw her breasts. She was alone. How white they were. “White—” she whispered. Her legs were drawn up, her hand still between her thighs. The pulsations were fading, gradually. Tiger loved those pulsations. He told her so. Beautiful, he murmured to her, “So beautiful,” she murmured now, though all alone. She saw her thighs, and the drenched nest there. She lay still. She felt sleepy. The drowsy afterward, as usual. Dreamy drowsy, usual. . . . She wished her Tiger were truly here. He wasn’t there to talk to her. Pet her. When he petted her—they would start again. How he could pet her. He never tired, nor did she, petting her. . . , She was blue. What could she do? Somewhere, downstairs, she heard a door. Mother had come in, and closed the door. She had come home. She would call her name, as she had always done. . . . She lay there, so blue. . . . She should answer her mother.. . . She should.. . •
47
“What time did you get up this morning, Jim?” Surcher asked, quietly, patiently. He had been at it for quite a while now, since taking over from Grady. He thought another twenty minutes or so would do and then he would hand over to Folio. Not Grady. Save him for Operation Midnight Oil, the Graveyard Shift. . . .
“Seven,” the boy answered, obviously beginning to show signs of weariness. Good. Surcher reacted, noting this development. He felt a certain profound regret as well, needless to say. For no doubt about it, he admired the lad.
“Seven, I said,” the boy repeated to him.
“I know you did,” Surcher said, “And yesterday morning?”
“Seven,” Jim said again.
“Sure about that?”
“Positive, man.”
“How did you get to school, Jim?”
“Same as I always do.”
“You caught the bus?”
“That’s right.”
“What time does it start running, Jim?”
The boy looked at him.
“What time, Jim?” Surcher asked again.
The boy didn’t answrer.
Surcher studied him, calmly.. . .
“Let’s Go!” Tiger called out, soon after coming on to the field. He blew his whistle also, as usual. The whole team began whooping it up and trotting smartly toward him, gradually crowding around him. Ponce was there, of
course, near Tiger, as well as a crowd of young kids and a
scattering of local citizens who always turned out to watch
their favorite and fabulous team practice. Now the squad had formed its circle around him, leaving enough space in there for him to pace around in, as he always did, while talking to them. He looked at them. He touched his cap. He walked around inside that circle and looked at them ail. He halted in front of Dink Reagan, finally.
“What are you here for?” He asked, firmly.
“To win!" Dink replied.
“What?” Tiger asked, snapping it.
“To win!” Dink replied in a much louder tone.
“That’s Right!” Tiger said.
"Right!" The players roared.
“Why do we win?” Now Tiger asked Dink.
“We’re the best”
“What?”
"The GreatestГ
“Right!”
"The Greatest! Right!" The squad roared.
“Who can beat us?” Now Tiger asked.
“Nobody.” Dink replied.
“What?”
"Nobody Can Beat Us!" Dink shouted out.
"Nobody! Right! They Can't Beat UsГ The players roared.
“What about Carverton?” Tiger asked.
The players roared. Ponce felt like roaring. He roared. It was a mass roaring, carrying far—"Ho Ho! HO! Carverton! WO!"
“Can they beat us?”
"No!"
“Will they beat us?”
"HELL NO!"
“What are we gonna do to them?”
"CLOBBER THEM! THERE'LL BE NOTHING LEFTГ
"Roar, Tigers!"
The field was filled with the massed blood-curdling roars of the team, and Ponce, and most of the spectators as well, as a matter of fact. It carried far and wide, it lasted a long time. A good bit of Sawyersville now knew, and without a doubt, that its renowned squad was about to start working out.
Pretty Maids All in a Row 267 When the last of the roars had died away, Tiger started talking again. His tone was conversational this time, though vigorous. It could be heard by them all. He walked around as he talked, his gaze falling on them one and all.
“I guess you’re all wondering about Jim. Well, you know as well as I do that he’ll be back one of these days. Just when, I don’t know. They’re still playing around with him. Don’t blame them. They don’t know what to do. Anyhow, the fact is we might not have him around for the Carver-ton game.” He paused, and Ponce, for one, was certainly surprised. Had something gone wrong? Or was Tiger just preparing them for the worst? He hoped that was all. Tiger went on, “We’ve got some changes in a couple of plays, and I’ll tell you about them after a while, before scrimmage.” Again he paused. “Joe Moran—you jump into Jim’s slot tonight.” He paused, letting that news sink in. It was news to Ponce too, though Joe was the one he too would have picked. “How about that?” Tiger was saying now to that lad, “Think you can handle it?”