Are You in the House Alone? by Richard Peck Page B

like you, Gail. As my mother would say, you tend to lower the tone.”
    “Phil, look, I think you’ve got a problem, and—”
    “Don’t use the psychological approach with me, Gail. You’re more the physical type anyway, aren’t you?”
    Phil Lawver was moving toward me, edging across the room as he talked, gliding around the coffee table. And there wasn’t any place for me to go, if I could have moved. I still couldn’t quite absorb it. He looked so much the way he always looked. The face crisply chiseled, the panther grace of his movements. I don’t think we’d ever really had anything to say to each other, never been in the same room alone. Till now. And he was getting closer. And it didn’t matter that I knew who he was.
    “Do you?”
    “What—what did you say?”
    “You’re not paying attention, Gail. I said, you don’t save it all for Pastorini, do you? Be a shame if you did. He’s not worth it. He’s nothing. He doesn’t exist.”
    “Phil, listen. Tell me one thing. Have you been drinking?”
    “Why, no, Gail. Not a drop. I planned all along to be sober for this evening, and I am. I always knew it would be an evening, a quiet one. I’ve been very patient in my planning. I’ve been very patient with you.”
    He was nearer than I knew when he lunged at me, hooking his ankle around mine. I fell flat on my back in front of the fire screen. Then he dropped down and pinned both my wrists above my head with his hands. “I’m in very good shape, Gail. It comes from clean living, which you wouldn’t know anything about. So if you struggle much, you might wish you hadn’t. Of course, if struggling turns you on, go right ahead. But I can’t be responsible. I can’t be responsible for anything.”
    He pushed his face against the side of my head and whispered into my ear, “And don’t worry. I don’t want you to do anything you haven’t already done. Just look at it this way, Gail. You’ve had more experience in certain matters than I have. And this is your chance to share it.”
    A voice from somewhere in my subconscious sounded then, telling me to jam my knee into his groin. I made a feeble attempt, with his full weight tense and flat against me. “Ah, no, Gail, you don’t want to try anything like that. Nothing rough. Just think of me as Pastorini. He doesn’t go in for the rough stuff, does he? Let’s both enjoy this, why not? You’ve already lost what you’ve got to lose.”
    My mind was starting to withdraw from his words just as the tone of them began to get syrupy. I thought of thekids upstairs and how screaming would scare them. I tried to remember what time it was. I thought about dying, but that was just a momentary blackness. “Alison . . . so pure . . . not like you . . . but you . . . want me? Don’t you? I could have any girl I looked at, but . . .”
    My back arched when he grabbed the front of my shirt and ripped it. The buttons rattled down on the tiles in front of the fire screen. “First of all, let’s get rid of this.” He grabbed the green heart that was lying against my throat and jerked it off the chain, throwing it over his shoulder.
    Both my hands were free in the moment he took to pull his sweater off over his head. But I was afraid to try and dig my nails into his face.
Go for the eyes
, that subconscious voice said again. But he’d have caught my arm before I could raise it. And anyway, I was too terrified. This was the worst, and it was happening. All his promises were coming true, and my silence had been helping him all along.
    “I figured you wouldn’t have a bra on, Gail. Alison . . . Alison . . . she always has a bra on, I think. But you’re a far cry from Alison, aren’t you?”
    I guess I should have kept talking, trying to make him hear. But I couldn’t think of the right words. And I knew he was long past any reasoning I could think of. He pulled my Levi’s down. I felt the floor freezing cold under me. And while he