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Show 8U pick zinnias, and wash the soot off them under the kitchen faucet. "Hurry up, Kathleen," he said. "Wait, you're making me get out of breath. Anyway, there's something else I want to talk to you about, Karl." "What?" Kathleen smoothed her hair; heat and exertion had curled the fine hairs around her forehead into ringlets. "I just want to thank you...about Jame. It's been really nice of you to pretend to walk me home from the nickelodeon this week, and let Jame do it instead." Frowning, Karl said, "To tell you the truth, it doesn't make me feel very good to be putting one over on Mom like that." He looked at her when he said that, and noticed her cheeks redden. "Don't think I like it either," Kathleen told him, sounding defensive. "But Mom's so darned unreasonable about the Culleys." Karl asked, "Does it mean that much to you, just to have Jame walk you home? Is it worth it, bluffing Mom?" "Listen, brother dear, I'm almost seventeen," she answered, "old enough to pick my own friends. Jame and I are just good friends, that's all." Good friends! Karl wanted to exclaim. If you kiss all your friends the way I saw you kissing Jame, it's a wonder they aren't lined up all the way down Pine Alley to Center Street. With a smile that seemed forced, Kathleen asked him, "What have you been doing with yourself between 8:30 and 9:30 for the past week?" He answered, "Hanging around the billiards room inside the library, |