It Happened on Maple Street

He was going to own a home. And a washing machine.

He sipped his beer—feeling rich just being there—being welcome to the cheap beer and entertainment. They were for him as much as for any other person filling up the expanse of grass and food booths.

He’d had his first geology lab the day before. Held in a rectangular room made of cement block, with a long table in the center of the room, he’d entered slowly. Of the twenty-five seats, there had only been one that he wanted because the desk was strategically placed in direct view of the windows leading to the outside. If lab was boring, he wouldn’t be completely cut off from the world.

He’d staked his claim, adjusted his belongings, and noticed the two girls sitting across the aisle.

They were both blonde. Slim. One was blue-eyed. Sweet looking. The other, a made-up and hair-sprayed rendition of the girlfriend every guy wanted.

The sweet looking one had looked out of place.

He’d wanted to meet her.

Thinking about it now, he cringed and took another big gulp of beer.

Lab had begun and the professor had asked for a volunteer to pass out the syllabus. Tim had seen his chance immediately and raised his hand. Passing out the papers would give him a chance to strut his stuff past the blonde—the on

e who was different. She’d captured his attention.

He’d approached her, smiled his best smile.

And got . . . next to nothing. She’d taken the paper he’d handed her.

Humbled, he’d taken his seat.

He was still thinking about her, though, while he consumed his first college beer, so that when he turned on the grass and saw her, at first he thought he was conjuring her up.

He wouldn’t have created the shivering. Or the blue raincoat. But those jeans . . .

He was cold too, but only because he hadn’t pulled his sweater on over his T-shirt. Soon the beer would be warming him up just fine. He’d been drinking it since he was a kid.

He’d done his share of cigarette smoking, too. But he was done with that nonsense.

He watched the girl. She was standing with some other people. The made-up girl from geology lab, who was speaking with a couple of guys. If he had his guess, he’d say the blonde in the blue raincoat wasn’t hearing a word they were saying. She was looking off over the crowd.

He could approach her. It was a party. People did that.

But he’d tried his charms on her once. And wasn’t eager for another . . . nothing.

The made-up blonde wandered off with the two guys. Baseball players, if he had his guess.

He’d made the tennis team. An individual sport. Which suited him just fine. Besides, he was good at it. Had played for his high school, too.

He waited for the girl in the blue raincoat to move along with the rest of her small crowd.

She didn’t.

With another sip of beer for courage, he edged his way toward her.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” She looked straight at him. Like she knew him, or something.

“You look cold.” He stood there in his T-shirt, beer in hand, looking warm. He hoped.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Aren’t you in my geology lab?” He was aiming for casual.