4 Heartbreak Comes Quickly

CHAPTER 4 Heartbreak Comes Quickly Outside, the sun shone and the air smelled fresh, but inside the class room not a breath of air was stirring. As Tom watched two bluebirds float lazily through the sky, he felt that recess would never come. He looked at Becky, who was busy with her studies, and thought that she was even prettier than Amy Lawrence, whom he had first courted in school. When noon finally came, the students quickly poured out of the schoolhouse to race home for lunch. As Becky got up from her seat, Tom whispered in her ear: "Go on out with the rest of 'em. When you

get to the corner, give 'em the slip, turn through the lane, and come back. I'll meet up with you." Soon enough, the two classmates were back at the now empty school. They sat together with a blank page before them. Tom handed Becky his pencil. He held her hand, guiding it, and a short while later, another house appeared on the page. Becky smiled up at him. "Do you like rats?" Tom asked, after their interest in art had faded. "No, I hate them!" "Well I hate them, too—live ones. But I'm talking about dead ones." "No, I don't care for rats. What I like is chewing gum." "Oh, I should say so. I wish I had some now."

"I've got some." So Tom and Becky sat quietly and chewed gum for a while, dangling their legs against the bench. "Was you ever at a circus?" Tom asked. "Yes, and my pa promised to take me again if I'm good." "I been to the circus three or four times. I'm going to be a clown in the circus when I grow up." "Oh, that'll be nice. They're so lovely, all spotted up and such." "And they get buckets of money—I hear even a dollar a day." Tom then took a deep breath— "Say, Becky, was you ever engaged?" "No." "Would you like to?" "I don't know. What's it like?"

"Like? Why, it ain't like anything. You just tell a boy you won't have anyone but him, ever ever ever, and then you kiss and that's all. Anyone can do it." "What do you kiss for?" "Well, that's what everyone does. You remember what I wrote down on the paper for you?" "Yes." "What was it?" "I won't tell you." "I'll tell you," Tom said, and he reached over and put his arm around Becky's waist and whispered "I love you" into her ear. "Now you whisper it to me—just the same way." Becky hesitated for a moment. Tom turned his face away and she bent over timidly, whispering faintly in his ear:

"I—love—you." Then she sprang up and ran around the desks and benches and into a corner of the room, where she hid her face behind her arms. "Now, Becky," Tom said, trying to comfort her, "it's all over. All over but the kiss—and you mustn't be afraid of that." Becky stayed that way, her back to him in the corner, face buried in her arms for a while. Tom kept talking, trying to convince her of the virtues of a kiss, until finally she turned and let her arms drop. Tom kissed her gently. "Now it's done. You ain't ever to love anyone but me, Becky, and you ain't ever to marry anyone else, either." "I'll never love anyone else, Tom, and you ain't ever to, either." "Of course not. That's a part of it. When

we walk to school or play at parties, we'll always be together." "It's so nice. I never heard of it before." "It's wonderful! Why, me and Amy Lawrence—" And Tom stopped, realizing his mistake instantly. "Oh, Tom. I-I'm not the first you been engaged to." Becky began to cry. "No, Becky, no," Tom pleaded. "Don't cry. I don't care for Amy anymore." But Becky kept on crying. Tom tried to put his arm around her neck but she pushed him away. Watching Becky cry made his heart ache. He stood there uneasily, not sure what to do or say. "Becky, I-I don't care for anybody but you."