The Kind Worth Killing by Peter Swanson Page B

in the groping, sweaty way that I had experienced at fraternity houses the few times I had gone with Jessica my fall semester. No, the passes at Thursday night parties were usually slurred compliments about my looks, followed by clumsy offers of another drink, or some other recreational drug, in their dorm room. I always refused, not because the boys who made the offers were particularly repellent but because, despite the presence of beautiful, dark-haired Faith, I was in love with Eric Washburn, and had been, since the first party at the Manor, when he had slipped from behind the bar to guide me around the rooms, introducing me to his friends. It was the way he had held my arm, just above the elbow, as though he were telling me, and others, that I belonged to him, if only slightly. Eric was the reason I kept going to St. Dunstan’s, although I enjoyed talking to other members, even when they were making drunken passes. The boys I met there could easily have been classified as preppy snobs, boys who had been born on third base and thought they hit a triple (as my mother often quoted), but they werealso usually polite, and made conversation in which the main point was not how wasted they had been the night before, or how wasted they planned on getting tonight. They were boys pretending to be men, so they tried a little harder to impress me with thoughts on politics, and ideas about literature. And even if it was all a ruse, I appreciated the effort.
    Because I had first been invited to St. Dunstan’s by Eric, I would usually seek him out to say good-bye when I left one of the Thursday night parties. He would press one of the skull cards into my hand and ask me to come the following week. If he wasn’t around at the end of a party, he would manage to find me at some point during the week to give me an invite, and once, he left a card in my mailbox at the student center. I considered the invites evidence of a small romance. A very small one, but it was also my first. And it was enough for me.
    My last exam of freshman year was on a Tuesday afternoon, and I had arranged to take the bus the following morning from New Chester to Shepaug, where my mother would pick me up and drive me to Monk’s. After my exam I had planned on packing up my few belongings while enjoying the solitude of a final night in Barnard Hall. Jessica had finished her exams early and left the day before. Coming back from my American Lit Survey exam I found a skull card on the linoleum floor of my dorm room, a message from Eric scrawled on the back. “Two full kegs. Come help us finish them tonight.” After finishing my packing, I walked across the muddy campus toward the Manor, and wasn’t surprised to find only a few members and a few girlfriends circled around the bar. Most students had already left. Eric seemed wildly pleased to see me, and I drank more than I usually did, happy to note that Faith was nowhere around. I even asked Eric about her.
    â€œOh, she’s gone, Kintner. Literally and figuratively.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I had a sudden horrific feeling that she’d died and I hadn’t heard about it.
    â€œShe’s gone from here.” He gestured around him with an open palm. “And she’s gone from here.” He pointed at his heart, and severalof his friends guffawed. I realized that Eric was drunker than I’d seen him before.
    â€œI’m sorry,” I said.
    â€œDon’t be sorry. She was not for me. Good riddance and good luck.” He made another theatrical gesture. I suddenly knew that Eric had invited me to St. Dun’s that night in order to seduce me, and that I was going to let him do it. It was what I had been waiting for. I had no illusions that it would be anything other than a one-night stand, but I was a virgin and I had decided that the time was right. I was not so foolish as to believe that I had to lose my virginity to someone who was in love with me,