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Show page 37 Flavor". He relaxed in a booth - at least his version of relaxation -- and listened to common voices expressing common values, a l l competing with a common jukebox. His mother, his crowd, none of them would have found i t enjoyable. "What you say, Mac?" a linesman asked from the next booth. He hadn't known he had said anything aloud. He ordered his beer and moved up to a vacant stool at the bar. On his second beer (he emphasized t h i s point in time a l l his l i f e as the s t a r t ing of his nextf career) he saw a pair of sleek brown legs In the bar mirror. The ox-Tner S3t in a booth behind him, in company with a blonde, and a s a i l o r on leave. Ever so often the g i r l with the sleek brox>m legs x«7hispered something across the booth. Then a l l would look in his direction. Their behavior annoyed him. The Sundown Kid began to have a doubt about any democratic impression he might make. But he was from a democratic town, democratic by necessity, and he was accustomed to s t a r e s , admiring and otherwise, in football. So, benignly, he blamed i t a l l on Prof Tomlin and smiled. The discovery that he could blame any momentary discomfort on Prof Tomlin and feel relaxed himself was his second point in time discovery of the day. The g i r l with the sleek brown legs stood and came to him. He reproached himself for smiling across the aisle at her. He had serious things to think about, and he had to report to the Induction Center the next day. She looked across at her friends. Her black hair, carefully brushed j""njjAimVnfq°'r 111* " chin. She x-^as poster-pretty, with |
