Leigh by Lyn Cote Page A

her gasp. Frank had made his decision to shut her out, and there
     didn’t seem to be any appeal left open to her.
Columbia University, October 1966
    W ith the door open to the hall, Leigh paced the floor of the small dorm room she shared with Mary Beth. Uneasy, she glanced
     at her wristwatch again. Mary Beth had been fixed up with a hippie or surfer from California who was visiting a guy in her
     psych class. Earlier, downstairs in the dormitory parlor, Leigh had glimpsed the stranger when he’d picked up her roommate.
     He was Mary Beth’s dream date, having shoulder-length blond hair, ragged jeans, and a tie-dyed shirt with beads around his
     neck. Upon seeing him, Leigh had nearly hummed, “When You Come to San Francisco, Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair.” In
     contrast, Mary Beth—with her long, flyaway hair, blue jeans, and love beads—had looked like it was Christmas morning again.
     But at least Mary Beth and her hippie had gone with a group.
    A half hour ago, Leigh had gotten in early from a Saturday night party. Her date had been another in a string of guys who
     liked blondes. On their walk home from his frat house, when he’d tried to put the moves on her in a secluded area, she’d claimed
     a headache. She didn’t like being groped on the first date—or any other date.
Jerk.
    Now she heard giggling swelling outside her door and a rush of footsteps over the linoleum hall, the signals that curfew had
     come. Outside, the necking couples who’d gathered around the entrance had separated to let the girls come in before lockup,
     and everyone was rushing past her door to their rooms. Opening it, Leigh stood at the door, hoping to see Mary Beth.
Why am I so worried?.
    But she hadn’t liked something about the Californian. Now the girls on the floor all waved to her or wished her good night,
     and after a spate of late-night showers, the floorgrew quiet and the lights in the hallways were dimmed. Still no Mary Beth.
    Leigh realized she needed to shut the door to the hall before the resident assistant on the floor noticed that Mary Beth hadn’t
     returned. Mary Beth had been fine as a freshman, working hard not to flunk out. But now, a month into her sophomore year,
     she’d already gotten two demerits for staying out after curfew and a third could mean social probation. And their RA didn’t
     like Mary Beth.
    With the lights switched off, Leigh paced the tiny patch of linoleum in their room, trying not to make a sound. The glow-in-the-dark
     clock on the desk stated the time as well after midnight. Just as Leigh was about to give up and dress for bed, she heard
     muffled giggling outside their first-story window. She looked out and there was Mary Beth and the blond Californian. Leigh
     opened the window and leaned out. “Mary Beth,” she hissed, “what are you doing? It’s after curfew.”
    The Californian gave Leigh the peace sign and then in a sort of wobble, motioned to Mary Beth. He cupped his hands together
     and Mary Beth, still giggling softly, put her foot in them and let him hoist her up to the window. Shocked, and terrified
     of their being seen from a window of the neighboring dorm, Leigh hauled the giggle princess into the room. Mary Beth’s weight
     almost took Leigh to the floor, but she stayed on her feet long enough to shove Mary Beth onto her nearby twin bed. Then she
     shut the window and turned, ready to read Mary Beth the riot act.
    “I don’t feel very good,” Mary Beth moaned. “I’m gonna be sick.”
    Leigh shoved the wastebasket under her roommate’s chin just in time. She held Mary Beth’s head there until the fit of retching
     passed. A sour, sick odor competed with MaryBeth’s alcohol breath. “How much did you drink?” Leigh snapped.
    “Not much,” Mary Beth mumbled, then she giggled. “Chance had weed.”
    Leigh nearly shook Mary Beth, but didn’t want her to start throwing up again. “Are you insane?” she hissed next to Mary Beth’s
     ear.