sk.carrie-第20章

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'They're　beautiful；'　she　said。
'You're　beautiful；'　Tommy　said；　and　she　became　quite　sure　that　nothing　bad　could　happen　this　night　…　perhaps　they　themselves　might　even　be　voted　King　and　Queen　of　the　Prom。　She　smiled　at　her　own　folly。
It　was　nine　o'clock。
Sue　Snell　sat　quietly　in　the　living　room　of　her　house；　hemming　a　dress　and　listening　to　the　Jefferson　Airplane　Long　John　Silver　album。　It　was　old　and　badly　scratched；　but　soothing。
Her　mother　and　father　had　gone　out　for　the　evening。　They　knew　what　was　going　on；　she　was　sure　of　that；　but　they　had　spared　her　the　bumbling　talks　about　how　proud　they　were　of　Their　Girl；　or　how　glad　they　were　that　she　was　finally　Growing　Up。　She　was　glad　they　had　decided　to　leave　her　alone；　because　she　was　still　unfortable　about　her　own　motives　and　afraid　to　examine　them　too　deeply；　lest　she　discover　a　jewel　of　selfishness　glowing　and　winking　at　her　from　the　black　velvet　of　her　subconscious。
She　had　done　it；　that　was　enough；　she　was　satisfied。
（maybe　he'll　fall　in　love　with　her）
She　looked　up　as　if　someone　had　spoken　from　the　hallway；　a　startled　smile　curving　her　lips。　That　would　be　a　fairy…tale　ending；　all　right。　The　Prince　bends　over　the　Sleeping　Beauty；　touches　his　lips　to　hers。
Sue；　I　don't　know　how　to　tell　you　this　but
The　smile　faded。
Her　period　was　late。　Almost　a　week　late。　And　she　had　always　been　as　regular　as　an　almanac。
The　record　changer　clicked；　another　record　dropped　down。　In　the　sudden；　brief　silence；　she　heard　something　within　her　turn　over。　Perhaps　only　her　soul。
It　was　nine…fifteen。
Billy　drove　to　the　far　end　of　the　parking　lot　and　pulled　into　a　stall　that　faced　the　asphalt　ramp　leading　to　the　highway。　Chris　started　to　get　out　and　he　jerked　her　back。　His　eyes　glowed　ferally　in　the　dark。
'What？'　she　said　with　angry　nervousness。
'They　use　a　P。A。　system　to　announce　the　King　and　Queen；'　he　said。　Then　one　of　the　bands　will　play　the　school　song。　That　means　they're　sitting　there　in　those　thrones；　on　target。'
'I　know　all　that。　Let　go　of　me。　You're　hurting。'
He　squeezed　her　wrist　tighter　still　and　felt　small　bones　grind。　It　gave　him　a　grim　pleasure。　Still；　she　didn't　cry　out　She　was　pretty　good。
'You　listen　to　me。　I　want　you　to　know　what　you're　getting　into。　Pull　the　rope　when　the　song　is　playing。　Pull　it　hard。　There　will　be　a　little　slack　between　the　pulleys；　but　not　much。　When　you　pull　it　and　feel　those　buckets　go；　run。　You　don't　stick　around　to　hear　the　screams　or　anything　else。　This　is　out　of　the　cute…little…joke　league。　This　is　criminal　assault；　you　know？　They　don't　fine　you。　They　put　you　in　jail　and　throw　the　key　over　their　shoulder。'
It　was　an　enormous　speech　for　him。
Her　eyes　only　glared　at　him；　full　of　defiant　anger。
'Dig　it？'
'Yes。'
'All　right。　When　the…buckets　go；　I'm　going　to　run。　When　I　get　to　the　car；　I'm　going　to　drive　away。　If　you're　there；　you　can　e。　If　youre　not；　I'll　leave　you。　If　I　leave　you　and　you　spill　your　guts；　I'll　kill　you。　Do　you　believe　me'
'Yes。　Take　your　fucking　hand　off　me。'
He　did。　An　unwilling　shadow…grin　touched　his　face。　May。　'It's　going　to　be　good。'
They　got　out　of　the　car。
It　was　almost　nine…thirty。
Vic　Mooney；　President　of　the　Senior　Class；　was　calling　jovially　into　the　mike。。　'All　right；　ladies　and　gennelmen。　Take　your　seats；　please。　Ifs　time　for　the　voting。　We're　going　to　vote　for　the　King　and　Queen。'
'This　contest　insults　women！'　Myra　Crewes　called　with　uneasy　good　nature。
'It　insults　men；　too！'　George　Dawson　called　back；　and　there　was　general　laughter。　Myra　was　silent。　She　had　made　her　token　protest。
'take　your　seats；　please！'　Vic　was　smiling　into　the　mike；　and　blushing　furiously；　fingering　a　pimple　on　his　chin。　The　huge　Venetian　boatman　behind　him　looked　dreamily　over　Vic's　shoulder。　'Time　to　vote。'
Carrie　and　Tommy　sat　down。　Tina　Blake　and　Norma　Watson　were　circulating　mimeographed　ballots；　and　when　Norma　dropped　one　at　their　table　and　breathed　'Good　LUCK！'　Carrie　picked　up　the　ballot　and　studied　it。　Her　mouth　popped　open。
'Tommy；　we're　on　here！'
'Yeah；　I　saw　that；'　he　said。　'The　school　votes　for　single　candidates　and　their　dates　get　sort　of　shanghaied　into　it。　Wele　aboard。　Shall　we　decline？'
She　bit　her　lip　and　looked　at　him。　'Do　you　want　to　decline？'
'Hell；　no；'　he　said　cheerfully。　'If　you　win；　an　you　do　is　sit　up　there　for　the　school　song　and　one　dance　and　wave　a　sceptre　and　look　like　a　goddam　idiot。　They　take　your　picture　for　the　yearbook　so　everyone　can　see　you　look　like　a　goddam　idiot。'
'Who　do　we　vote　for？'　She　looked　doubtfully　from　the　ballot　to　the　tiny　pencil　by　her　boatful　of　nuts。　'They're　more　your　crowd　than　mine。'　A　chuckle　escaped　her。　'In　fact；　I　don't　really　have　a　crowd。'
He　shrugged。　'Let's　vote　for　ourselves。　To　the　devil　with　false　modesty。'
She　laughed　out　loud；　then　clapped　a　hand　over　her　mouth。　The　sound　was　almost　entirely　foreign　to　her。　Before　she　could　think；　she　circled　their　names；　third　from　the　top。　The　tiny　pencil　broke　in　her　hand；　and　she　gasped。　A　splinter　had　scratched　the　pad　of　one　finger；　and　a　small　bead　of　blood　welled。
'You　hurt　yourself？'
'No。'　She　smiled；　but　suddenly　it　was　difficult　to　smile。　The　sight　of　the　blood　was　distasteful　to　her。　She　blotted　it　away　with　her　napkin。　'But　I　broke　the　pencil　and　it　was　a　souvenir。　Stupid　me。'
‘There's　your　boat；'　he　said；　and　pushed　it　toward　her。　'Toot；　toot。'　Her　throat　closed；　and　she　felt　sure　she　would　weep　and　then　be　ashamed。　She　did　not；　but　her　eyes　glimmered　like　prisms　and　she　lowered　her　head　so　he　would　not　see。
The　band　was　playing　catchy　fill…in　music　while　the　Honour　Society　ushers　collected　the　folded…over　ballots。　They　were　taken　to　the　chaperones'　table　by　the　door；　where　Vic　and　Mr　Stephens　and　the　Lublins　counted　them。　Miss　Geer　surveyed　it　all　with　grim　gimlet　eyes。
Carrie　felt　an　unwilling　tension　worm　into　her；　tightening　muscles　in　her　stomach　and　back。　She　held　Tommy's　hand　tightly。　It　was　absurd；　of　course。　No　one　was　going　to　vote　for　them。　The　stallion；　perhaps；　but　not　when　harnessed　in　tandem　with　a　she…ox。　It　would　be　Frank　and　Jessica　or　maybe　Don　Farnham　and　Helen　Shyres。　Or　…　hell！
Two　piles　were　growing　larger　than　the　others。　Mr　Stephens　finished　dividing　the　slips　and　all　four　of　them　took　turns　at　counting　the　large　piles；　which　looked　about　the　same。　They　put　their　heads　together；　conferred；　and　counted　once　more。　Mr　Stephens；　nodded；　thumbed　the　ballots　once　more　like　a　man　about　to　deal　a　hand　of　poker；　and　gave　them　back　to　Vic。　He　climbed　back　on　stage　and　approached　the　mike。　The　Billy　Bosman　Band　played　a　flourish。　Vic　smiled　nervously；　harrumphed　into　the　mike；　and　blinked　at　the　sudden　feedback　whine。　He　nearly　dropped　the　ballots　to　the　floor；　which　was　covered　with　heavy　electrical　cables；　and　somebody　snickered。
'We've　sort　of　hit　a　snag；'　Vic　said　artlessly。　'Mr　Lublin　says　this　is　the　first　time　in　the　history　of　the　Spring　Ball…'　'How　far　does　he　go　back？'　someone　behind　Tommy　mumbled。　'Eighteen　hundred？'
'We've　got　a　tie。'
This　got　a　murmer　from　the　crowd。　'Polka　dots　or　striped？'　George　Dawson　called；　and　there　was　some　laughter。　Vic　gave　a　twitchy　smile　and　almost　dropped　the　ballots　again。
'Sixty…three　votes　for　Frank　Grier　and　Jessica　MacLean；　and　sixty…three　votes　for　Thomas　Ross　and　Carrie　White。'
This　was　followed　by　a　moment　of　silence；　and　then　sudden；　swelling　applause。　Tommy　looked　across　at　his　date。　Her　head　was　lowered；　as　if　in　shame；　but　he　had　a　sudden　feeling。
（carrie　carrie　carrie）
not　unlike　the　one　he　had　had　when　he　asked　her　to　the　prom。　His　mind　felt　as　if　something　alien　was　moving　in　there；　calling　Carrie's　name　over　and　over　again。　As　if
'Attention！'　Vic　was　calling。　'If　I　could　have　your　attention；　please。'　The　applause　quieted。　'We're　going　to　have　a　run…off　ballot。　When　the　people　passing　out　the　slips　of　paper　get　to　you；　please　write　the　couple　you　favour　on　it。'
He　left　the　mike；　looking　relieved。
The　ballots　were　circulated；　they　had　been　hastily　torn　from　leftover　prom　programmes。　The　band　played　unnoticed　and　people　talked　excitedly。
'They　weren't　applauding　for　us；'　Carrie　said；　looking　up　The　thing　he　had　felt　（or　thought　he　had　felt）　was　gone　'It　couldn't　have　been　for　us。'
'Maybe　it　was　for　you。'
She　looked　at　him；　mute。
'What's　taking　it　so　long？'　she　hissed　at　him。　'I　beard　them　clap。　Maybe　that　was　it。　If　you　fucked　up…'　The　length　of　jute　cord　hung　between　them　limply；　untouched　since　Billy　had　poked　a　screwdriver　through　the　vent　and　lifted　it　out。
'Don't　worry；'　he　said　calmly。　'They'll　play　the　school　song。　They　always　do。'
'But…'
'Shut　up。　You　talk　too　fucking　much。'　The　tip　of　his　cigarette　winked　peacefully　in　the　dark。
She　shut。　But
（oh　when　this　is　over　you're　going　to　get　it　buddy　maybe　you'll　go　to　bed　with　lover's　nuts　tonight）
her　mind　ran　furiously　over　his　words；　storing　them。　People　did　not　speak　to　her　in　such　a　manner。　Her　father　was　a　lawyer。
It　was　seven　minutes　to　ten。
He　was　holding　the　broken　pencil　in　his　hand；　ready　to　write；　when　she　touched　his　wrist　lightly；　tentatively。
'Don't　。　。'
'What？'
'Don't　vote　for　us；'　she　said　finally。
He　raised　his　eyebrows　quizzically。　'Why　not？　In　for　a　penny；　in　for　a　pound。　That's　what　my　mother　always　says。'
（mother）
A　picture　rose　in　her　mind　instantly；　her　mother　droning　endless　prayers　to　a　towering；　faceless；　columnar　God　who　prowled　roadhouse　parking　lots　with　a　sword　of　fire　in　one　hand。　Terror　rose　in　her　blackly；　and　she　had　to　fight　with　all　her　spirit　to　hold　it　back。　She　could　not　explain　her　dread；　her　sense　of　premonition。　She　could　only　smile　helplessly　and　repeat：　'Don't。　Please。'
The　Honour　Society　ushers　were　ing　back；　collecting　folded　slips。　He　hesitated　a　moment　longer；　then　suddenly　scrawled　Tommy　and　Carrie　on　the　ragged　slip　of　paper。　'For　you；'　he　said。　'Tonight　you　go　first…class。'
She　could　not　reply；　for　the　premonition　was　on　her。　her　mother's　face。
The　knife　slipped　from　the　whetstone；　and　in　an　instant　it　had　sliced　the　cup　of　her　palm　below　the　thumb。
She　looked　at　the　cut。　It　bled　slowly；　thickly；　from　the　open　lips　of　the　wound　running　out　of　her　hand　and　spotting　the　worn　linoleum　of　the　kitchen　floor。　Good；　then。　It　was　good。　The　blade　had　tasted　flesh　and　let　blood。　She　did　not　bandage　it　but　tipped　the　flow　over　the　cutting　edge；　letting　the　blood　dull　the　blade's　edge；　then　she　began　to　sharpen　again；　heedless　of　the　droplets　which　splattered　her　dress。
If　thine　right　eye　offend　thee；　pluck　it　out
If　it　was　a　hard　scripture；　it　was　also　sweet　and　good。　A　fitting　scripture　for　those　who　lurked　in　the　doorway　shadows　of　one…night　hotels　and　in　the　weeds　behind　bowling　alleys。
Pluck　it　out
（oh　and　the　nasty　music　they　play）
Pluck　it
（the　girls　show　their　underwear　how　it　sweats　how　it　sweats　blood）
out
The　Black　Forest　cuckoo　began　to　strike　ten　and
（cut　her　guts　out　on　the　floor）
if　thine　right　eye　offend　thee；　pluck　it　out
The　dress　was　done　and　she　could　not　watch　the　television　or　take　out　her　books　or　call　Nancy　on　the　phone。　There　was　nothing　to　do　but　sit　on　the　sofa　facing　the　blackness　of　the　kitchen　window　and　feel　some　nameless　sort　of　fear　growing　in　her　like　an　infant　ing　to　dreadful　term。
With　a　sigh　she　began　to　massage　her　arms　absently。　They　were　cold　and　prickly。　It　was　twelve　after