The drugstore was crowded with boys and girls at the soda counter and grownups sitting round twisted wire tables. The air was sticky with sirupy sweetness.
As Lucy slid onto a wire stool the noisy chatter stopped abruptly and she lowered her eyes. In her demeanor she might have been some well-known actress who, entering a public place and knowing herself to be the center of attention, pretends unobtrusiveness. The outrageous peroxided frizzy hair and pasty lipstick made her appear more rather than less childlike. A little girl made up for playacting. But when at last she raised the long brown fringes to reveal her startling eyes, every eye in the place strained to discover the secret of her beauty.
Many girls are beautiful but Lucy Claudel was beauty. Young, forming beauty. Her straight slender body, a little unsteady on too-high heels, gave the impression of a stem that might snap under the weight of those eyes and the dandelion fluff of hair. The translucent magnolia petal face was molded with delicate calm from high cheekbones and the slope of a small straight nose given hint of a tilt by the perfectly planned V which held it above lips pursed as though to receive a hummingbird's kiss. A young, tendriled vine that aroused thirst for its ultimate fruit.
Every girl, woman, felt herself a clod and vowed next day to use drugstore alchemy to rid herself of freckles, pimples, or red healthy cheeks.
Frank, conscious he was envied by the other boys and suddenly attractive to the girls, was about to swagger when he caught the mocking eye of his sister Opal, seated at the end of the counter. His face reddened and he hastily turned away. Would Opal tell at home after he had promised not to see Lucy any more? How could you keep such a promise? He saw her all the time, night and day. You're too young, Pa told him. Ma and Opal had it in for Lucy. I'm fifteen. Why didn't Opal stick with her own bunch, she's eight-teen? Fatty Opal, damn her.
Lucy drew on the straw with intent application. The ashy silence as she entered the store and Opal's spiteful laugh, igniting high-keyed chatter, was the way it was at school. Her thoughts probed along familiar byways.
It's funny, she thought, girls hate it when a girl is alone with a boy. Why can't they fix themselves up a little instead of wearing those kid clothes?
