Sheila wouldn’t allow me to date a boy even if he was only fifteen—I mean sixteen, like I am, you see. “I ought to have done anything! “What’s a man for? “Friendship!” He doubled up his fist, and seemed to contemplate thrusting it through the window. Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. The more her thoughts dwelt upon the subject, the more convinced she was that she could not go to any one for help; she would have to solve the riddle by her own efforts, by some future experience. And it’s no use thinking he’d stop her.
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