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Show 175 "what's college like?" she said, "I'm going next year." "Hey, look: it's the only way to go. It's great. Great." "Well, I'm still trying to make up my mind. Where to go, that is. Tell me about it." That started him. He talked all the rest of the way through lunch. About his classes, the competition for grades, even the hassle in finding a parking place. It thrilled her, all of it, down to the smallest detail. Did he study at the library? Yes, in the evenings, when he wasn't working at the store. Did he use a tape recorder for lectures? No, but he had seen them being used. "I muddle through with my own notes," he said, "Or try to, anyway." That image from her daydream of taking notes for him flashed through her mind-she had to steady her voice as she asked, Would he go to UCLA if he had to do it over again? He had almost gone to SC, he said, but now he was glad it had worked out this way. Most of her classmates, she said, the ones who were going on, were going to Mount Mary's. He cocked his head back, looking exaggeratingly down his nose: the knowledge of the world was centered at UCLA, the top people from all over the country-how could Mount Saint Mary's compete with that? The waitress brought the check. Maybe, Sharon said, she would file an application for UCLA. Yes, she thought she would. And an image of those couples on the sidewalk in Westwood, walking arm in arm, in their coats and scarves, with their easy ways, came to her. Yes, she would file an application, she promised herself. They walked back to the store together, still talking of his |