A change of wind

'No,' said I. 'You're wrong. I'm reading this book for The Individual and Society, not for a shield as you insinuate. And, even more important, I don't regret turning Sharon down.'

Smiths seemed for a few moments to scrutinize my countenance for a possible absence of sanity. Finding no evidence of this, he looked away.

'I mean, it surprised me at the time, sure,' admitted I, 'but there was a reason for it.'

In the back of my mind, I said, 'Yeah. . .a five-foot-seven, long-haired, irresistible reason.' To Smiths I just smiled.

The continuance of the day brought darker skies, colder winds, and an ominous horizon. By seventh period the mountain-ashes were beginning to whip against the school. My trigonometry teacher didn't seem to notice, though; he was seventy and nearly deaf.

'Hey, Terry. . .do you have an extra windbreaker?' I said, twisting around in my seat.

'No, sorry, my boyfriend's using it.'

'Just my luck.'

Sudden storms bring cold walks; and, when the seventh period bell rang, I handed my assignment to the teacher, grabbed some textbooks from my locker, and set off quickly for home. The autumn breeze raised goosebumps on my arms, and I drew my flannel shirt around my torso to keep warm.