Outside he grabbed Jim by the arm. "What'd you do to Lane, you rotten scum?"

"Don't you touch me, asshole."

"You want to make me?"

"Henry!" Lane snapped. "Quit it. Let go of him."

"Better do like she says," Jim said, "before I wipe up the sidewalk with you."

"Oh yeah?" Though Betty tried to pull him away, he kept his grip on Jim's arm. "I've been beat up by tougher guys than you."

Jim cocked back his arm.

Lane kicked him hard in the rear. Crying out, he jerked rigid, freed his arm from Henry's grip and grabbed his ramp. He started hopping up and down as if that somehow helped the pain. He turned around as he hopped. His face was bright red under the streetlights.

"That hurt!" he blurted, his voice high-pitched and accusing.

"It was supposed to. You want to beat up on somebody, try me.

Better yet, why don't you team up with Riley Benson? You're no better than him. Maybe the two of you'd like a try at me."

"Oh yeah?" He stopped hopping. He stood there, gasping, clutching his seat with both hands. "Well, fuck you."

"Not in your lifetime."

"If you think I'm gonna forget this-"

"I sure hope not. Do me a favor and get lost."

"Yeah! I'll get lost, all right! You and your asshole friends can walk home, see how you like it."

"We'll like it just fine, thanks."

He turned away from her and hobbled past Henry and Betty.

Ciao," Henry said, and Betty thumped the side of his head.

Jim scowled back at them, then turned his head more until his eyes met Lane's. "I wouldn't take you back ii you begged me. Not a chance.

It's over."

"I'm already eating my heart out," she called to him.

"Who needs you? You're a pain in the ass." "Literally," Henry said.

Betty thumped him again.

"Try Candi," Lane suggested. "I'm sure she'll appreciate your finer traits."

Jim flipped her off, then vanished around the corner.

Joining her friends, Lane said, "Let's walk over to Antonio's and get a pizza. My treat. Then I'll call home and get Mom or Dad to pick us up."

"Spectacular," Henry said.

"I could go for some pizza about now," Betty said. "All this excitement sure stirs up the ol' appetite."

They started walking. Lane, stepping between Henry and Betty, put her arms across their backs. "You were great," she said to Henry.

"The nerd showed hair," Betty agreed.

"Our Henry's not a nerd."

He beamed.

"You almost got yourself creamed," Betty told him.

"That was sure some kick," Henry said. "Any harder, you would've knocked his ass out his mouth."

Lane laughed. "Well, I tried."

"Did you see the look on his face?" Betty asked. "I mean, that crud didn't know whether to shit or go blind."

"He'll wish he'd gone blind when he tries to sit down," Henry said.

"Spectacular. You ought to try out for the football team."

"Anyway," Lane said. "That's over. I should've dumped that creep a long time ago."

"That's what we've been telling you," Betty said.

"I'm a slow learner."

"You're lucky to be rid of the slimebag," Henry told her.

"Yeah." They waited for a car to pass, then stepped off the curb and started across the road. "He wasn't all bad, though. Sometimes, he could be..." A lump suddenly closed her throat. Tears filled her eyes.

"... He could be nice," she finished, her voice trembling.

Betty rubbed her back. "Hey, it's all right. You're better off without him."

"I know. I know."

"If you get desperate," Henry said, "there's always me."

"You ready to die, Hen-house?" Betty asked.

"Just a suggestion."

Lane squeezed both of them closer against her sides.

"Quit it before I kick your butts."

Thirty-two

"Do you want to talk about it?" Larry asked after dropping off Henry and Betty.

Lane slumped in the passenger seat with her arms folded, turned her face toward him and said, "I kicked Jim in the butt. So he advised us to walk home."

"You kicked him?"

"You wouldn't believe what he did to me."

"Oh, I might."

"Guys are such pigs."

"Thanks."

"Not youuuu. But I mean it. Honestly. All they want to do is grab grab grab. They've got sex on the brain."

"And you don't, huh?"

"I don't go around grabbing... their private areas."

"Happy to hear it."

"You weren't like that, were you? When you were a teenager?"

He was glad there wasn't enough light coming into the car for Lane to see his face go red. He'd been in his office with the door shut when she phoned from the pizza parlor. Gazing at his pictures of Bonnie.

Remembering all the details of his dream. Longing for her. A girl nearly the same age as Lane. Who even looked quite similar to her.

"I guess every teenager has sex on the brain," he said.

"But you didn't go around always trying to cop a feel, did you?"

"When I was your age? No. I dated sometimes, but I wasn't especially interested in the girls I went out with. So I didn't try much funny stuff with them."

"You weren't interested in the girls you dated?"

"We're talking about my high school days, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well then, no. Not much. I basically just went out with dogs."

"Dad!" She sounded shocked but amused.

"It's true. And I didn't want to get fleas, so..."

"Really, that's not nice."

"Okay okay. Seriously? I wasn't exactly dashing, and I knew it. So I never even tried to go out with any of the girls I really thought were neat. They scared the hell out of me. If a girl looked like you, for instance, I'd just admire her from afar and maybe daydream about her.

I sure wouldn't date her."

"Jeez, Dad."

"Weird, huh? Now I've got a kid who's one of them."

He looked at Lane and smiled. She shook her head. Then she reached out and patted his shoulder. "I would've gone out with you." "A pity date."

"No way. I'll bet you would've been a perfect gentleman."

"A lust-crazed maniac!" He shot his hand under Lane's outstretched arm and thrust it into her armpit.

"Don't!" she cried out. Giggling, she clamped her arm down and squirmed.

He pulled his hand free, got it under her elbow and tickled her side.

"Dad! Stop!"

He returned his hand to the steering wheel. As he eased the car to the curb in front of their house, Lane grabbed his side and dug her fingers in.

"Don't!" he cried out, mimicking her and laughing. "Please. Stop!"

"You can give it but you can't take it," she said.

Writhing as she tickled him, he shut off the engine. Then he grabbed her forearm and pushed up the sleeve of her sweater. "Indian burn," he announced.

"No!" she gasped, breathless with giggling. "Don't! I mean it! I'll tell Mom!"

"Tattletale." He gave her the Indian burn. Gently. Then let go.

"Is that the best you can do?"

"Oh? You want me to give you a good one?"

"I think I'll pass, thanks," she said. She patted his arm. "Maybe some other time. Maybe..." She suddenly clutched his forearm with both hands and twisted, wringing its flesh.

"Yeeeoow!"

"That'll teach you, tough guy." Laughing, she hurled herself at the passenger door and scurried from the car. She ran to the house. But instead of using her key to let herself in, she waited on the porch for him.