The Rebellion of Yale Marratt by Robert Rimmer Read Free Book Online Page B

to her the feeling of exaltation he felt in her presence. The same

feeling of wonder, only sharper, more poignant, that he felt on a warm

summer evening as the day slowly departed and soft shadows of night crept

into the sky. The same wonder and emotion that made him shiver with delight

when he walked along deserted ocean beaches in the winter and felt his own

insignificance in relation to the sky and water stretched in cold and

remote infinity before his eyes.

"I guess I don't like dirty songs," he said slowly. "Why do people want

to make sex so ugly? I don't understand it."

Cynthia had tears in her eyes as she tried to answer him. "I'm not wild,

honestly, Yale. I guess it is kind of an act. For a long time in school,

no one knew I existed. I was just a smart Jewish kid whose father grew

tomatoes. I was shy and I studied hard, and the better marks I got the

fewer friends I had. I was the wallflower at all the dances. Then I

watched how the other girls acted -- and I found that if I acted sexy

and said crazy things like they did that I could have dates too. It

worked. I was very popular in my senior year."

"Sure," Yale said, acidly. "You were hot stuff!"

Cynthia stood up. The sunlight, drifting through the leaves, made

a shimmering pattern of shadows on her body. "I take it back," Yale

said. "You are a chaste goddess."

She kissed him quicldy. "Cynthia is a moon goddess." She grinned. Then

she blushed. "We better go back."

They dressed, shyly, turning away from each other, On the way back to

the campus she told him not to worry -- that from now on she would go

back to being a wallflower. "And when you find out what a grind I am --

even you won't like me."

Yale smiled. He had a friend, a beautiful, wonderful friend. A girl --

he thought. A girl. The word was filled with a sense of magic. He squeezed

Cynthia's hand. "I like you, Cynthia, very much. . . ."

3

Within a month after college started Yale had established that Cynthia

was his girl. Because Cynthia was very definite in her desire to complete

her major requirements in English, Yale decided he would do the same. It

had the added advantage that they were able to take many of the same

classes together.

Sonny Thompson labelled them the "inseparables" He told Yale in a leering

voice that the rumor abounded that Cynthia could be "had." One night Sonny

carried it too far. When Yale returned to their room around ten-thirty,

after a date with Cynthia, Sonny looked up from the book he was studying.

"You must be Charles Atlas or something," he said with a smirk.

Yale, filled with happy thoughts of the lingering kiss Cynthia had just

given him, failed to catch the drift of Sonny's remark. "What do you mean?"

"It takes a strong man to knock off a piece of ass every day -- Saturday

and Sunday included." Sonny howled at his own joke. Yale grabbed his

Introduction to Freshmen English and hurled it at Sonny, hitting him

squarely on the side of his face. Yale threw the book with such force that

the binding broke. Sonny slumped off his chair, a glazed look in his eye.

Yale pulled him to his feet. He was shaking from the violence of his anger.

"I'm sorry, Sonny -- but keep your dirty mind off my life." He didn't say

that the crude expression that was bandied about in every bull session

by pimply faced students irritated him as much as Sonny's inference.

Sonny rubbed his face. "Listen, you crazy bastard, I'll tell you for

your own good. All the guys in this school think you're a fruit. Hanging

around with a dame all the time. You don't take part in any of the normal

activities. You don't go out for sports -- you never show up at football

rallies. Believe me if this dump had any fraternities you'd never make

a pledge. I hear through the rumor channels that a few of the sophomores

plan to take you for a little ride in the country and straighten you out."

Yale looked at him incredulously. "You must be nuts. What I do is none of

your