Let's Go Play at the Adams'

John avoided his glance and scowled across the river for a moment. Since they had all first

become a gang together, he had been the leader. He was the biggest, strongest, and he

had lived in the neighborhood the longest.

Among the things John had gradually learned to accept, however, was that he seldom led,

that is, invented the things to do. The whole thing was really like following from ahead. You

sort of knew what everybody wanted, what was going to happen anyhow, so for better or

worse, you gave it a reason for occurring, helped it to become. Further, John had learned-

and in this, he self-confessed a certain lack of imagination-that if no suggestion or solution

appeared, you simply pulled your chin and looked gravely down at the ground. Someone

else came up with the proper idea.

In this case, it was Paul-how often it seemed to be Paul-who, for being younger and

possibly less embarrassed by what he was saying, had put into words exactly what John

vaguely wanted but dared not face alone. Moreover the suggestion came complete with a

79

plan-Dianne would do it, John and Paul would help if necessary, Cindy would stay out of the

way-and that left only Bobby. There was a peculiar air of fate about the whole thing, as if

from the first day they saw Barbara, they knew they were going to capture her, as if from

that moment on, they had been moving toward this further heightening of the adventure.

At this, the faintest worry clouded John's thoughts, and yet what he must say and do was

somehow foregone. Choice, if it ever existed, had simply slipped away.

"We'll have to make some new rules," he said finally.

"When?"

"About what?" Bobby was negative. "After Dianne takes off her clothes."

"What kind of rules?" Paul went into a trembling

spasm.

"Wait a minute .... "

"Well, we still have to watch her-stand guard." "Sure .... "

"But we ought to-be able to say what we want, and everybody should help. You know, like

if you want her gagged when it's your turn, OK. If you don't, OK. If you want her in the

chair, OK, and if you want her. in bed or anything else, OK. What the person guarding

wants, we all agree to. And we help. If you want the door closed, OK."

"The door?" "Hers-Barbara's." "Why close the door?"

"Just if you want to," John shrugged. "No!" Bobby jumped to his feet.

"No, what?"

"You're not going to get Cindy'n me in any more trouble."

"It's the same for everybody."

"No, it isn't. It's my house and my parents and my-" He waved his hands in exasperation.

"It's our sitter. If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't be doing this at all and you're not going to

take off anybody's clothes." 80

"Dianne is."

"No, she isn't either!"

"Who's going to stop it, then?', When he got to his own feet, John's size and weight

advantage over Bobby were unarguable. For a second, they stood face to face.

· "Let me alone!" Before a blow was struck, Bobby quailed. Tears of anger and

frustration made him blink and brush his eyes. "Let me alone now!"

"I haven't touched you.',

"Then get away from me. This is my beach, tool" "Well, are you going to help us then?',

"No!" Ducking to the side, Bobby suddenly ran across the sand toward the bank.

"Get him!" Paul did a little dance of excitement. John caught Bobby as he tried' to

scramble upward and dragged him back down on the beach, kicking and screaming.

After a short wrestle, he got Bobby's arm twisted around behind his back and gave it a

hard tweak. He got Bobby's face down in the sand and held it there. It made him less

noisy.

Bobby began blubbering harder. "Ouch! Damn it, stop it, John. You don't have to do it

that hard. Ow-ww-w! Please.',

"Down then. Shut up."

Bobby lowered his face right on the sand and quieted, hurting badly.

"Now, are you going to help us or not?" "No--yes-s-s!-no. I can't, John. Don't make me."

He was sobbing now.

For the second time that afternoon, John felt a sense of cosmic power. The only

difference was that this time, it frightened him a little, and he slowly eased up on

Bobby. There had been the barest moment when if Bobby had stood between him and

Barbara, he might actually have hurt him. At length John even released him.

Bobby rolled over slowly and sat, sobbing and cradling his arm in his lap and trying to

get the sand out of his eyes at the same time. John and Paul sat on 81

their heels and watched him cry himself out. It took a while.

"What are you going to do? Give all this up?"

Paul said.

"Nope," John said, "we'll just have to make him a prisoner, too."

Bobby looked up now. Both their faces were slightly wolfish, and it was apparent that they

were ready to pounce. Somewhat like Barbara, Bobby was no fool for his age. The notion

that they could take virtually everybody captive and do everything was out of the question.

"Everybody" was a terribly vague thing: however, to him, they could do it, even to Cindy,