At the Twilight's Last Gleaming by David Bischoff Page B

halls of the new day.
    “Do tell!” said Harold.
    I lowered my lids at the new arrival. I always found Gail Shawshank annoying to the extreme, especially the early in the A.M. But as Harold had begun taking an slight amorous interest in Gail, I was particular piqued. I tried my best to stay neutral and give him good advice.
    Cheryl Ames and Emory Clarke, morose in general, were perhaps even more so in the early hours of the school day I really couldn’t blame them as they were clearly night owls as much as I was. Still, Emory now just seemed to slump back into his unattractive sulk mode, which reminded me why I hadn’t paid much attention to him before.
    “The sky is falling,” said Cheryl.
    Emory just grunted and stared down at a comic book he was reading.
    I think the comic book was
The Incredible Sulk
.
    “Well,” said Gail putting her schoolbooks onto the table and shaking off her heavy parka, carefully placing the fur-lined hood just so, so as not to mar it. “Last night Daddy — he’s the head this year of the PTA, you know…”
    “We know, we know,” said Cheryl, not trying to hide the irk in my voice. “And your Daddy runs a bank, and the New York marathon.”
    “Cheryl,” I said calmly, “Let’s hear what she has to say.”
    “It’s on!”
    “What’s on?” said Harold.
    “Why, the Presidential visit!” said Gail.
    “Oh!” said Harold. “Cool! Way cool!”
    “President Lyndon Johnson is coming to Crossland Senior High?” said Emory.
    “That’s been the rumor for a while, of course. But according to Daddy, the date has been confirmed. He’ll definitely be coming for a dedication ceremony for the Vocational School.”
    “Yes,” I said. “Glad to know that, of course Gail. But just when is that supposed to be?”
    “Daddy knows, but he didn’t tell me,” said Gail. “I just know its going to happen.”
    “Maybe he can stay and see the play!” said Cheryl.
    “Oh my God! The President of the United States watching me get bit in the neck by Emory!” I said.
    Cheryl keened with laughter. “Well, a U.S. Senator is going to be watching you get bitten in the neck by Emory.”
    I turned to Emory. “Your dad is coming to a performance of DRACULA?”
    “I should think so!” drawled Emory. “He was the one who insisted I try out for Mr. Crawley.”
    “Wow. That’s a trip and a half!” I said. “I didn’t even think about that.”
    “What’s wrong with that? Aren’t your parents coming?”
    “Well, of course! But it…I don’t know…it kind of feels different in some way….” I squinted. “Oh God, if he brings Bobby Kennedy, I think I’m going to faint!”
    I had a definite thing for Senator Robert F. Kennedy. He was the younger brother of President John F. Kennedy, assassinated less than five years before.
    “Aren’t you supposed to faint?” said Harold. “I mean in the play.”
    “We’re way off the subject,” I said. “This is really interesting. Is there anything else that you found out? Like, before. When was this dedication supposed to happen, anyway?”
    “Soon, I think,” said Gail.
    “Now I’d think it depends upon when its convenient for President Johnson,” said Emory, his interest piqued a bit.
    “Have you met President Johnson?”
    “Oh yes. Back when he was Majority Leader and when he was V.P., where he also was head the Senate.” Emory drawled this out so slowly and casually, you would think he was talking about meeting a pal at the soda shop.
    “Oh yeah! So that’s why he was there in the Senate the day I went,” piped Harold brightly.
    “You’ve been to the U.S. Senate?” I said incredulously.
    “Haven’t you?” shot Harold back.
    “No.”
    “Oh.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s right. You just moved to this area. Back in sixth grade, lots of elementary school kids around in the D.C. area take field trips into town. My class went to the U.S. Senate. And it was in session!”
    Emory actually smiled. “An exciting sight,