downstairs said, and when I said yes, she said, âThereâs a man to see you.â
I was surprised to hear this, because of all the blind dates Iâd had that year not one called me up again for a second date. I just didnât have any luck. I hated coming downstairs sweaty-handed and curious every Saturday night and having some senior introduce me to her auntâs best friendâs sonand finding some pale, mushroomy fellow with protruding ears or buck teeth or a bad leg. I didnât think I deserved it. After all, I wasnât crippled in any way, I just studied too hard, I didnât know when to stop.
Well, I combed my hair and put on some more lipstick and took my history bookâso I could say I was on my way to the library if it turned out to be somebody awfulâand went down, and there was Buddy Willard leaning against the mail table in a khaki zipper jacket and blue dungarees and frayed gray sneakers and grinning up at me.
âI just came over to say hello,â he said.
I thought it odd he should come all the way up from Yale even hitchhiking, as he did, to save money, just to say hello.
âHello,â I said. âLetâs go out and sit on the porch.â
I wanted to go out on the porch because the girl on watch was a nosy senior and eyeing me curiously. She obviously thought Buddy had made a big mistake.
We sat side by side in two wicker rocking chairs. The sunlight was clean and windless and almost hot.
âI canât stay more than a few minutes,â Buddy said.
âOh, come on, stay for lunch,â I said.
âOh, I canât do that. Iâm up here for the Sophomore Prom with Joan.â
I felt like a prize idiot.
âHow is Joan?â I asked coldly.
Joan Giling came from our home town and went to our church and was a year ahead of me at college. She was a big wheelâpresident of her class and a physics major and the college hockey champion. She always made me feel squirmywith her starey pebble-colored eyes and her gleaming tombstone teeth and her breathy voice. She was big as a horse, too. I began to think Buddy had pretty poor taste.
âOh, Joan,â he said. âShe asked me up to this dance two months ahead of time and her mother asked my mother if I would take her, so what could I do?â
âWell, why did you say youâd take her if you didnât want to?â I asked meanly.
âOh, I like Joan. She never cares whether you spend any money on her or not and she enjoys doing things out-of-doors. The last time she came down to Yale for house weekend we went on a bicycle trip to East Rock and sheâs the only girl I havenât had to push up hills. Joanâs all right.â
I went cold with envy. I had never been to Yale, and Yale was the place all the seniors in my house liked to go best on weekends. I decided to expect nothing from Buddy Willard. If you expect nothing from somebody you are never disappointed.
âYou better go and find Joan then,â I said in a matter-of-fact voice. âIâve a date coming any minute and he wonât like seeing me sitting around with you.â
âA date?â Buddy looked surprised. âWho is it?â
âItâs two,â I said, âPeter the Hermit and Walter the Penniless.â
Buddy didnât say anything, so I said, âThose are their nicknames.â
Then I added, âTheyâre from Dartmouth.â
I guess Buddy never read much history, because his mouth stiffened. He swung up from the wicker rocking chairand gave it a sharp little unnecessary push. Then he dropped a pale blue envelope with a Yale crest into my lap.
âHereâs a letter I meant to leave for you if you werenât in. Thereâs a question in it you can answer by mail. I donât feel like asking you about it right now.â
After Buddy had gone I opened the letter. It was a letter inviting me to the Yale Junior Prom.
I was so surprised I