WIP: DYNAMIC DUO OF THE OZARKS

CHAPTER 6

            The alarm went off and Mykel woke up to find Clint dressed for class.

            “You’re already up,” Mykel groaned from under the sheets and blanket his mother had sent with him.

            “This isn’t early for me,” Clint laughed. “I’ve been getting up at four in the morning to milk cows for most of my life. When I wake up at 6:30, I feel like I have overslept or something.” Clint sat on his bed, putting on a pair of Dan Post boots. “What time is your first class?”

            “Ten. Why?” Mykel answered.

            “Get dressed and we can go grab breakfast over at the dining hall,” Clint said. “After last night, you need a big breakfast.”

            “I’m also going to need something for a headache,” Mykel gripped. “I had too much of that rum those girls bought on clearance at Katz.”

            Clint reached into the drawer of his desk, pulled out a small bottle of Anacin and tossed it to Mykel. “Here, take one of these. Yeah, but we had some fun with those girls. They were nice and pretty.”

            “Except for that gal that stormed out mad,” Mykel laughed as he got out of bed. “She wasn’t either nice or pretty. That weird eye of hers gave me the creeps. What did Slick call her?” He got a towel and his shaving kit out of his suitcase.

            “The cockeyed bitch,” Clint laughed. “Slick can describe people in wildest ways, and they are usually right on the money. She kind of made me tired with how she talked about the boyfriend of the hot chick, that liked you, being from such an important family. As my grandpa would say, she makes you want to go way off to take a shit.”

            Mykel began laughing harder at Clint’s colloquialism. “I don’t know what that means, but I think I understand what you are talking about in relation to Alice.” He then walked up the corridor to the bathroom.

            “Now that you are up, I’ll turn on the radio to see what the temperature is outside,” Clint yelled at Mykel, but he was already in the bathroom and didn’t hear him. Clint switched it on, then got a tube of Groom N Clean, a comb and brush, while Frank Sinatra was comparing his life to fine wine in old kegs. He set a hand mirror up on the desk and began rubbing a gob of the goop into his blonde hair, before combing it into place.

            “THE BIG THIRTEEN HUNDRED – K-I-DOUBLE-L – AN OLD LADY, PROBABLY IN HER FIFTIES, CALLED AND ASKED IF I WOULD PLAY THE LATEST FROM ‘FRANKIE.’ I KNEW RIGHT THEN, SHE WAS AN OLD BOBBY SOXER! SINATRA AND ‘IT WAS A VERY GOOD YEAR.’ I’M LOVABLE LANCE POWERS AND I HOPE 1966 WILL BE A GOOD YEAR.” A beep came from the radio. “THE FIRST NATIONAL BANK OF SPRINGVILLE TIME AND TEMPERATURE TONE SAYS IT’S EIGHT-TWENTY-SEVEN AND TWENTY DEGREES ON A CLOUDY MON-DEE MORNING IN THE OZARKS!” The sound of a doorbell interrupted the dee-jay patter. “I BETTER SEE WHO IS AT THE DOOR.” It sounded like Lovable Lance walked to a door and opened it, followed by the wild chatter of a chimpanzee throwing a mad fit. “OH, IT’S THE K-I-DOUBLE-L BRASS MONKEY. HE WANTS TO COME IN AND WARM UP AND THE ROLLING STONES ARE WANTING ‘SATISFACTION’ ON THE BIG THIRTEEN HUNDRED K-I-DOUBLE-L!”

            Clint laughed at the goofy bit the DJ was doing. He reached under his bed, pulled out a Red Wing boot box that had a stash of his favorite snacks stored. He pulled out a small jar of Folgers Instant Coffee. He walked down the corridor to the sink over the mini fridge and filled a Pyrex carafe with water. He heated it on a small, hot plate on his desk. Once it boiled, he poured the water into a big mug that he had put two spoonsful of instant coffee in and waited for Mykel to get out of the shower. He looked out the large dorm window at people walking to class, swaddled in heavy coats. As he drank his coffee and watched the parade of shivering students, he quietly prayed that this semester would be better than the last and he would not flunk out, and be returning to the family farm, in the summer, a disappointment to his parents. That would also mean winding up being drafted and going to fight in Vietnam.

            Mykel came out of the bathroom, frantically rubbing his hair with a yellow towel, and sat down on the edge of his bed. “What is the temperature outside?”

            “The guy just said it is twenty degrees outside,” Clint answered. “Everyone walking outside is bundled up and acting like it is really cold out there.”

            Mykel got up and got a brown sweater, long sleeved shirt and pair of tan denim pants out of the tallboy, removed each article of clothing from their hangers, then flung them onto the bed. Once he had the clothing on, he got a bottle of Vitalis from his shaving kit and poured a bit, straight onto his wet head and rubbed it in, before brushing his hair in a tiny mirror.

            “You better look good,” Clint joked. “You may see that great looking blonde chick from last night. She was after you!”

            “Clint, let me explain something to you. Girls hate me. I’m not sure why. I kind of had a girlfriend in Binbury in seventh grade, but Missouri girls don’t dig me. I came close to getting beat up by a girl working in a grocery store yesterday before I came here. She hated me in school, and she still hates me.  That is typical of the response I get from girls,” Mykel explained.

            “Are you sure you didn’t do something that would be a violation of the Blue Law?”

            “All I got was three bottles of Pepsi,” Mykel said. “That is a necessity. Do you know what she got for Christmas? Tattoos!”

            The radio began to vibrate with the sound of a thundering timpani and pulsing synthesizer.    “FROM THE K-I-DOUBLE-L NEWS CENTER, I’M T. R. MCGILLICUDDY WITH NEWS HEADLINES AT EIGHT-THIRTY O’CLOCK ON MONDAY JANUARY 17TH, 1966. A MASSIVE BLIZZARD BLANKETS MOST OF THE EAST COAST AND ROCKIES!    MILITARY COUP IN NIGERIA! TULSA TEACHERS GO ON STRIKE! CASTRO CLAIMS HE DOESN’T KNOW WHERE CHE GUEVERE IS! U. S MILITARY PLANE CRASHES IN GREECE! MORE NEWS AFTER THIS COMMERCIAL FROM LEVY-WOLF WOMEN’S FASHIONS.”

            “I’m ready,” Mykel said, as he grabbed a notebook and pen. Clint turned off the radio and they left the dorm room to begin the chilly trek from Bonner Hall to the cafeteria in the student union building. Once they got inside the building, Mykel reached in his pocket for his Primetine Mist inhaler and took two puffs. Clint showed concern for Mykel, but he reassured him that cold air triggers his asthma, and the inhaler would calm his shortness of breath. Before they walked into the cafeteria, Dennis and Tommy came out.

            “Did you guys have fun last night?” Dennis asked Mykel and Clint while getting a pack of Camels from his shirt pocket and lit one up.

            “Yes, we did,” Clint answered.

            “Henry had too good of a time and he is sore at Slick about it,” Tommy laughed. “Slick’s in there trying to get him to eat a bunch of stuff and drink black coffee.”     

            “We are late for class too. Maybe we will see you guys later?” Dennis said.

            “Yeah, probably. We’re just down the hall,” Clint said. Dennis and Tommy opened the heavy, steel door to the frigged outdoors, and Mykel and Clint walked into the cafeteria, presented their meal tickets, which was punched by a rotund woman with a hairnet covering her gray-hair. They started toward the serving area, when Clint spotted Slick and Henry, seated at a table. Clint waved at them.

“We will be over there in a minute.” Slick waved back in acknowledgment.

            On an overhead speaker, the radio was tuned to K-I-L-L, and the newsman was talking about sports. “THE SHOW-ME STATE WOLVES LOST THE BASKETBALL GAME AGAINST SOUTHERN ILLINOIS SALUKIS SATURDAY NIGHT AT MCDONALD ARENA.”

            “Did that guy have to bring that up?” Clint grumbled to Mykel, who just smiled.

            Clint and Mykel walked on over and began getting some scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Mykel added a grapefruit to his selections. They walked over to where the beverages were, they saw a confused Owen, with a tray holding just a cereal bowl, a doughnut and a can of orange juice, staring at the coffee dispenser.

            “Hey Owen, you look like you need help,” Mykel inquired.

            “A cafeteria lady said that this machine has hot water to put on my Maypo, but I can’t figure out where it comes out.”

            “I’ll show you,” Mykel volunteered. “Where is your package?” Owen handed him the paper package and Mykel tore it open, dumped it in Owen’s bowl, held it under the spigot and operated the tap. “It’s the red tap. If you use the green one, you’ll have coffee on your cereal.” He then handed it to Owen, while mimicking the kid in the commercial. “I wannntt mmyyy MAY-PO!,” which made Owen laugh. “Come set over here with me and the guys from our floor.”

            Owen followed Mykel and Clint over to the table, as if he was being allowed to march in ticker-tape parade for a national hero, as the overhead speaker blasted a K-I-L-L jingle followed by “Voodoo Woman” by Bobby Goldsboro.

            “Well, are we ready for another semester?” Clint asked while putting his tray down. Mykel let his drop to the table, causing his flatware to clank against the metal tray. Henry jumped and gave him an annoyed glare.

            “Careful!” Henry squealed. Slick began laughing.

            “Henry’s figuring out what a hangover is like,” Slick laughed. “Hang in there, man. Drink more coffee and eat what I told you to get there, you’ll be fine by lunch time.”

            “He put three strips of bacon and two sausage patties on my plate and got me a can of tomato juice. I don’t like tomato juice,” Henry complained to the others. “I usually don’t eat this much. Besides, he was the one slipping all the rum into drink. I was just going to try about one drink.”

            “I think I snuck the equivalent of six or seven shots into your drinks,” Slick chuckled. “But you were having fun and we had fun watching you get crazy. I think those girls liked you, Henry. And that sweet-looking, blonde babe would have eaten Mykel alive if we weren’t there.”

            “Guys, don’t get my hopes up,” Mykel shook his head in denial. “Girls never like me. Especially one that pretty.”

            “I told him that she was after him, but he won’t believe a word of it,” Clint said. “Did you see how quick she was to suggest he sit next to her on that little couch?”

            “I liked when she laid her leg across his lap to show the other girls her toe ring,” Slick laughed. “You look like someone dropped at water moccasin in your lap. What was wrong, man?”

            Mykel lowered his voice. “If you must know, I was getting a boner and afraid she would feel it.” This revelation caused the other guys, including Henry, to laugh at Mykel’s confession.

            “OH! Laughing is hurting my head,” Henry whined, then went back to giggling.

            Slick clapped his hands and laughed loud enough that some of the other students in the cafeteria began staring at him. “Let’s take a quick vote like last night,” he said to the guys, holding his hand up. “How many believe the cute blonde liked Mykel?” Clint and Henry raised their hands, Owen did as well, only he had a half-eaten doughnut in his hand. “See, Mykel, we were a witness to this. She wants you! Now, let’s vote again. How many hoped that cock-eyed friend of hers got hit by a bus after she went stomping out of the party?’

            The guys burst into laughter again as they held their hands up, in response to Slick’s second question. “You didn’t like that girl, did you Slick?” Clint asked.

            “Oh, Hell no!” Slick got serious. “She was hateful with everyone, then began gushing about that girl’s ex-boyfriend,” Slick then imitated Alice with a nasal, comic, voice “’He put the knob in Knob Noster.’ I’m sorry, little, ugly, white girl, it was the United States Air Force made Knob Noster, not some rich boy, that got dumped by that hot babe that likes Mykel.”

            “She looks like the Old Witch from the Haunt of Fear comic books,” Owen observed, before guzzling the rest of his carton of chocolate milk. “Same eye too.” The guys laughed at that statement.

            Clint realized they were getting dirty looks from other students in the cafeteria. On the overhead radio, Lovable Lance Powers was announcing that K-I-L-L had a request for “Tomorrow Is Gonna Be Another Day” by the Sons of Adam, so he changed the subject. “Did you hear they mentioned our loss on the radio, a few minutes ago?”

            “Yeah, but you know what Coach Thomas will say this afternoon?” Slick said, before imitating. “This is a learning experience…” Clint then joined him and recited the coach’s usual speech in unison. “That will prepare us for our next game.”

            “Hopefully, I’ll be able to help you guys out,” Clint said. “I’ve had so many problems grade wise and having to set out games.”

            “I think you will do fine,” Slick encouraged Clint. “Maybe having a smart roommate will help.”

            Mykel overheard the conversation and added, “Then Clint is in big trouble.”

   

            The guys finished their breakfast and dispersed to the respective classes. Mykel went to an American Literature class, where he saw Kathy and Grace from Room 420. Grace knocked over the one of the small desks, but she placed it in the upright position and made it her own. Kathy chose a seat next to her.

            “Mykel, come sit over here with us!” Kathy commanded while removing her coat and placing it on the back of the chair. Mykel obliged and sat down at one of the desks. “We had fun last night, didn’t we?”

            “Yeah, it was really nice of you girls to invite us guys to hang out with you,” Mykel answered. “I was never invited to any parties in Lemming, so I was surprised that you wanted me there.”

            “We did this at the beginning of school, last semester, when we were in the other dorm, and we made several friends, but we only had girls in that dorm, so it was great to get to have a party with boys this semester,” Kathy explained. “Also, glad we got to include Carlene and Silvy too. Scary to think there was a fire at their dorm. Our dorm just had leaky pipes.”       

                  Grace piped up with the ongoing after party rumor. “I know one person who was glad you came to the party!”   

            “Who?” Mykel asked.

            “Sherry Ridenhour!” Grace and Kathy said, at the same time, before giggling.

            “Really?” Mykel was now willing to listen to this talk. Clint and the guy’s version didn’t seem reliable, but hearing this, from her roommates, there might be some level of truth to this information.

                “She talked about you after you left, she talked about you before we went to bed and was talking about you again this morning,” Kathy said. “You really left an impression on her.”

            “You gotta be kidding!” Mykel was getting excited listening to this, in much the same way, he had been excited when Sherry decided to put her leg on his lap, to show off her toe ring, at the party. “She is really pretty and friendly, but I’m beginning to wonder if she is crazy…if she likes me.”

            “The only odd thing about her is she is what they call ‘nasty neat.’ I guess being the daughter of a doctor, she worries about germs and stuff. She washes her hands after everything she does, even carries a little bottle of witch hazel, mixed with peroxide, in her purse! She thinks rubbing that stuff on her hands kills germs, or something.” Kathy explained while giggling. “She doesn’t like to get anything on her hands, so she uses Playtex Living Gloves for everything, even opening those potato chip bags last night.”

             Grace added, “She also sprays Lysol on stuff. Other than that, she is super nice and quite funny. You two would be a perfect match. You really had her laughing all night.”

            Mykel was smiling, “You think so! I know her friend didn’t like me.”

            Kathy scowled, “Don’t pay any attention to Alice! She hates everyone, except Sherry’s former boyfriend, Chip!”

            “Alice is a pain in the butt!” Grace gave her opinion of Sherry’s fellow Knob Noster classmate.

             “You know what would be fun,” Kathy exclaimed with inspiration. “Tonight, about 7 or so, let’s all go to the Cafe What, in the Student Union! Do you think Clint and the other boys would come with us? We will try to get Carlene and Silvy too.”

            Grace grinned with excitement, “That would be fun! As cold as it is, we could just drink coffee and listen to music together!”

            “Sure, I’ll ask Clint,” Mykel said. “I know he and Slick have basketball practice this afternoon.”

            A young lady, with horn-rimmed glasses and her hair in a top knot, walked into the classroom with a stack of papers. “Dr. Gladys Wisencoff went to a writer’s conference in New York and is stranded there because of the blizzard, but she wanted you to have the curriculum. She hopes she can be here Wednesday for class. The main thing you will need for class on Wednesday is to go ahead and buy a copy of Sherwood Anderson’s novel, Winesburg, Ohio, at the campus bookstore, and begin reading it. Also, write your name on the notepad, I am passing around, to show that you attended class. When you have signed it and picked up a curriculum, you are free to leave. Thank you!”

            “Well, so much for that!” Mykel said. “I guess I could hang out in the Student Union until time for my American History class.”

            “Sherry has an American History class,” Kathy said. “Maybe it is the same one.”

            Mykel walked over to the Student Union, to see if the snack bar was open yet. It was, so he climbed up on a stool at the counter and ordered a cup of coffee in an attempt to warm up after walking, from the English Department to the Student Union, in the cold. There was a large radio receiver with speakers, set up at the snack bar, tuned to K-I-L-L, and blasting Ronny and the Daytonas, singing about their little G.T.O.

            “That will be ten cents,” the guy behind the counter said, as he handed Mykel the white ceramic coffee mug, in exchange for Mykel’s dime. “You get two refills.”

            “That is probably all I’ll drink. I don’t really like coffee,” he told the guy. “You look familiar, did we have a class together last semester?”

            “No, but I’m from Lemming. My name is Jamie. My mom works with your mom at Bell Telephone.”

            “Okay, that must be it.”

            “I’m getting ready to graduate in December with a degree in sociology,” Jamie said. “Then I’m going to take grad courses at Central Missouri State College at Warrensburg.”

            “So, you aren’t going back to Lemming after you graduate,” Mykel asked.

            “Are you kidding?” Jamie said. “There is no opportunity there.”   

            “Once I get a degree, I won’t go back there either. I moved there in the seventh grade, when my father died, and I have hated every minute.”       

            “Your grandfather retired from the Fort, didn’t he?”

            “Yeah, that is why we moved there so me and Mom could live with them,” Mykel pondered. “You know my grandparents have lived in Lemming forever and Mom grew up there, but I just feel like we are outsiders, in some way.”

            “There is animosity toward the Fort Leonard Wood folks from some of the big wigs in Lemming,” Jamie explained. “Most people like your family, but the important ones would keep you down, even if you have a degree, because he was a major at the Fort. It’s silly the way they think.”

            “You know some girls invited me and my roommate to a party last night and everyone is telling me that one of those girls likes me. None of the girls in Lemming liked me. Matter of fact, I stopped in that grocery store on Second Street yesterday, before I came up here, and the girl working there got mad at me and just about hit me. I was in love with a girl in school, but every time I would try to talk to her, the jocks and the redneck guys would threaten to beat me up for talking to her.”

            “Who was it?”

            “Bethany Duckworth.”

            “You’ve got good taste,” Jamie said. “She’s getting married to a guy, who was in my graduating class, Timmy Brinkwell. His father runs the funeral home.”

            “Oh yeah. What is he like?”

            “Kind of like Lunch from the Addams Family,” Jamie said. Every week when we watch that show, I tell my fiancée ‘He reminds me of a guy I went to school with named Timmy Brinkwell.’ I’m sure someone fixed them up. It’s another case of the old money people of Lemming trying to breed their kids. She is going to find out what other girls who dated Timmy find out. He is nice, but creepy. He wants to put their makeup on for them and he cakes it on them. I know a girl who wanted to make-out and heavy pet with him, but he said he would enjoy it more if she was cold and clammy. That girl dumped him right after that. Bethany would definitely be better off with you.” Jamie refilled Mykel’s coffee cup, as the radio station played a jingle, that claimed K-I-L-L was ‘the rocket powered go-go sound,’ followed by “Um, Um, Um, Um, Um” by Major Lance.

            “Thanks, I guess. Too bad she doesn’t understand that” Mykel bemoaned. “The girl I met last night is from Knob Noster and just broke up with some guy, whose family ‘put the knob in Knob Noster’; supposedly, according to her friend.”

            “Maybe she realized he wasn’t all that great,” Jamie reassured Mykel. “And she showed interest in you, and she is from a town that is probably crawling with test pilots, and chicks dig test pilots. I understand your situation, I only went on a few dates with girls in Lemming and I came here to Show Me State and met my fiancée, when I was a sophomore. She is from St. Louis. Here at college, the stupid social boundaries of your high school and hometown are gone. You can be friends and date whoever you want.”

             “I’m still not sure I’m ready to believe there is a girl who wants to be with me,” Mykel drank the rest of his coffee and put a quarter in the tip jar for Jamie. “I’ve got an American History class in a few minutes.”

            “Do you know who the professor is?” Jamie asked.

            “J. D. Plowright, I believe.”

            “Man, I should have filled your cup with espresso, so you can stay awake,” Jamie laughed. “He knows his stuff and the exams are easy, but he talks like LBJ, only at Everette Dirksen’s speed. Good luck, man!”

                    Mykel walked out into the cold rain, toward the building, where his American History class was being held. It was not in the history department, for some unknown reason, but a building used by the agriculture sciences department, which smelled like the fertilizer and animal feed they sold at M-F-A Farmers Exchange in Lemming. The class was in a lecture hall with stark white walls and orange, plastic chairs with desks attached.

            Mykel was looking over the crowd of students, milling about, to find an empty seat, when a voice split the air, “MMMYYYYY-KEEELLL! MYKEL! OVER HERE!” causing people to jump and search for the girl who screamed. Before he could wonder if someone was yelling at him, he noticed it was Sherry, the girl from the party in Room 420. She was smiling and waving for him to come sit beside her. Her sandy, blonde, bouffant flip bounced as she swung her arm back and forth over her head for him to see. The other students were starting to stare at him, as he made his way down the steps toward the row of seats, where she was saving a special place for him to sit next to her.

            “I’m so glad to see you here! Sit next to me!” she gushed with joy. Her beaming smile and sparkling lapis eyes gave Mykel a feeling he had not experienced. He felt warm from the inside out and his face seemed to tingle. He pulled off his coat and sat down at the desk next to her. “Did you have fun last night?”

            “Yes, I did! I’m so glad you girls invited me and Clint,” Mykel answered. “We both had fun. Kathy had a great idea about getting to know other people in the dorm.”

            “I’m sorry about Alice’s behavior. Even going back to birthday parties in elementary school, she would throw a mad fit and had to be taken home.”

            “I’m sure if there was a clown at the party, she would really throw a tizzy,” Mykel observed, causing Sherry to laugh. “She didn’t want you to bring that up.”

            “If she is going to bring up my love life, I’m going to bring up the fact that she is afraid of clowns,” Sherry said. “But it does make sense, if you think about it. Clowns make people laugh and Alice doesn’t have a sense of humor.” Sherry then lifted her leg and extended it, straight out, much like she had the previous night, although she didn’t drape it across Mykel’s lap this time. She was wearing a pair of black tights, beneath a brown, tweed, knee-length pencil skirt, but the article of clothing she wanted Mykel to see was a pair of short, white, vinyl boots that stopped just above her ankle. “Look! Do you like my boots? They’re like what the girls on Hullabaloo wear!”

            “Those are swell!” Mykel gazed, not just at the little boot, but at what it was attached to as well. He was getting to be quite familiar with Sherry’s leg, which was fine with him since most of the girls in Lemming only showed Mykel their fist.

            A stocky man, in his sixties, walked to a podium at the front of the room and turned on a microphone attached to a pulpit. Next to the pulpit was an overhead projector, which he turned on, after dimming the lights at the front of the room. He then began tapping on the microphone and asked, “Is this working?” After the class acknowledged that it was working, he introduced himself.

            “Good after-noon! I’m Professor Plowright and this is American History One-Oh-Two…which covers…the Reconstruction of the South…until…the end of World War Two. I hope…that I can make…the history…of our nation…come alive…both good and bad. You frequently hear people…talk about the Good Ole Days. The truth is…there have never been…Good Ole Days. There have always been problems. The people…who call them…the Good Ole Days…never lived in those times…or they are lying about how good it was. I also believe…that if…the great people of history…could come to our modern times…they would probably be pleased…and amazed…with what they saw. We are not…guaranteed…what tomorrow…will be like…or if we will even be living tomorrow. Things change…good and bad…but we must…accept change…because that…is how…our universe functions.”

            Mykel was quickly realizing what Jamie, the boy at the snack bar, was talking about, but he also saw that Professor Plowright had an idea about what he sounded like. “Something I want to clear up before I take the roll…I was born in Ghouly Bust, Texas. It is hard to find on a map. It is that small. People ask me…if I’m related…to the President…of the United States. The answer is no. I have the utmost respect for the President…but we are not related…we just talk alike. I do have a famous relative…that you young folks would be familiar with…and I will tell you who that is…later.”

            He then began reading names and having people answer “Here!” when their name was called out. After a few names, he came to a Michael Anderson. When the boy answered, he then asked, “Are YOU…the Michael…that some young lady was so excited to see earlier?” The boy replied with a no. Mykel and Sherry both looked at each other rather chagrined. He read some more names, until he came to a Michael Comstock. The same question and the boy gave the same answer. Sherry looked nervously at Mykel, dreading what was coming.

            “Is this pronounced Me-kell Daring?” Professor Plowright asked.

            “It is pronounced Michael.”

            “Are you…the Michael…some young lady…was so happy to see?”

            “Yes!” The class began laughing.

            “You have a Yankee accent. Connecticut?”

            “Vermont.”

            “I knew it wasn’t a Missouri accent. I feel your pain. I’m sure they ask you…if you are related…to the late President Kennedy.”

            “They haven’t asked if I’m related, but they often say I sound like him.”

            He went on with the roll, which went rather slowly with the number of students and the pace at which Professor Plowright spoke. “Sherry Ridenhour?”

            “Here!” Sherry answered.

            The professor looked up and noticed she was sitting next to Mykel. “I recognize that voice…you are the screamer.” Sherry turned red and slunk down in her seat, as the class began laughing again. The professor finished the role and then talked some more about what was on the syllabus, which an assistant passed out mimeographed copies of, and the textbook. He held a copy up over his head, to show the class what it looked like. “Save yourself some money…and buy…a used copy of this book. The campus bookstore should have some…used ones for about two dollars.” Professor Plowright then dismissed the class until Wednesday. The students got up and began filing out of the lecture hall.   

             “Do you have another class today?” Sherry asked, giving Mykel a soft, sweet smile, as she put on her coat.

            “I have a class in Broadcast Writing next, why?”

            “Maybe later you could come to the dorm suite, and we could eat some of the leftover pizza from last night.”

            “That sounds great! I should be back at my dorm room by one o’clock.”

            “I’ll call the room and see if you are there,” Sherry said. “And Kathy is wanting to see if we would want to go to the Cafe What, in the Student Union, tonight. Would you want to do that?”

            “Yeah, I said I would be interested. We have an American Literature class together.”

            “Great! I will see you later then.” She walked out of the room, still smiling. Mykel stood amazed at what had just taken place. A pretty girl told him that she wanted him to come to her room. Even if the pizza was cold, it was, at least, a start.