Crystal by Walter Dean Myers Page A

said.
    “That’s because you’re getting to be quite the professional.”
    The water felt good. Crystal had it as hot as she could stand it. She closed her eyes and imagined she was in a steaming pool somewhere far away. Perhaps it was a lush tropical island. There would be birds sitting in the trees above her. Maybe there would be a fawn prancing nearby. Yes, that would be all. Just the fawn, a few birds, and her.
    She thought about standing in Marc Everby’s office. She remembered him walking toward her, knowing that he would touch her. She almost knew how it would feel to have his hands on her.
    Quickly she forced her mind back to her jungle paradise. She washed slowly, shutting everything out of her mind.
     
     
    “Okay, so here’s the deal.” Pat sat across from Crystal in the library. “I want you to double-date with me and Donald and Charlie.”
    “With who?”
    “You know Donald and Charlie,” Pat said. “Charlie’s nice.”
    “He might be nice but I don’t know him, and why wouldI want to go out with him even if I did know him?”
    “Because my mother’s not going to let me go out with Donald by myself. She met Donald once and she knows Charlie’s mother. And she knows you. So, either you go out with me and Donald and Charlie or I can’t go out at all.”
    “You’re not that desperate for a date, Pat.”
    “Girl, don’t tell me how desperate I am. I am sixteen years old and have never, mind you, never been on a date with a real live boy. My mother doesn’t think I should go on a date until I finish high school.”
    “What’s so magical about finishing high school?”
    “That’s what I asked my mother,” Pat said. “And she wanted to know why I was so anxious to go on a date and what did I think I would be doing?”
    “So what did you tell her?”
    “I told her,” Pat said, “that I wanted to double-date with you because we were best friends. What I was thinking was that I didn’t know what I would be doing, but I sure wanted to find out.”
    “I don’t date,” Crystal answered. “Unless you call that creep, Sean Farrell, a date.”
    “I’d die to go out with Sean Farrell, even if he is a creep. There’s nothing wrong with a good-looking creep now and then.”
    “I’ll think about it,” Crystal said.
    “You want to think about it before Friday?” Pat said. “I kind of told my mother we were going out together Friday night.”
    “Pat, you are a mess. Suppose my parents say no?”
    “They’ll say yes,” Pat said. “And anyway, if I don’t start dating soon I’m going to be a bigger mess.”
    “It’s all in your head,” Crystal said.
    “No, it ain’t, it’s in my Social Studies class. You know who’s checking Donald out?”
    “Who?”
    “You know that skinny chick who thinks she looks like Lil’ Kim?”
    “That Mavis somebody? The one who runs around in those little short dresses?”
    “Her. She was throwing herself all up in his face and everything.”
    “Why? Donald’s not that cute.”
    “Yes, he is, Crissie,” Pat said. “I think he’s cute.”
    “Yeah, but you’re in love with the dude. You throw out that love and what you got? He’s sweet, but that’s about all.”
    “I think he’s cute, and now that he’s playing flute with Tito’s combo, everybody’s checking him out.”
    “You told me Donald only played classical music,” Crystal said. “Tito doesn’t play classical. He plays that salsa.”
    “Donald is getting into it, too,” Pat said. “He’s really good. That’s why Miss Thing is chasing him. And from what I hear, she’ll do anything to get a guy.”
    “I got to check with Mama,” Crystal said. “Where we supposed to be going Friday night?”
    “To this club that Donald says is really hot. And then I got to be home at twelve o’clock. I think my mama got a Cinderella complex.”
    “And who am I supposed to be? Your fairy godmother?”
    “And Donald will be my Prince Charming.”
    “With his dumb-butt