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Show 68 people there were. At least three, and one of them was a girl. They were talking about somebody named Jerome. Lorin looked at Melanie to make sure she was aware of the danger of talking until they were gone, but she had turned her face away and was resting her cheek on her knees. "Come back over here," he said when it was quiet. "I can't talk to you like this." "No. I'm behaving myself." "I'm blaming myself more than you," he said. "It's just that once we get past a certain point I can't stop. All I'm saying is I shouldn't let us get to that point." She turned her head so the other cheek was resting against her knees and looked at him. "What am I supposed to do?" she asked politely. "I can't talk to you when you get like this," he said. "I just want to know what I'm supposed to do," she said. "Am I supposed to just do it a little bit?" "We won't discuss it if you're going to be stupid." "You won't let me toss grapes into your mouth and you won't let me be stupid. You're just no fun at all." His breath had been making wet rasping sounds in his chest for some time, but by breathing shallowly he had kept from coughing. Unfortunately each breath had had to be shallower than the preceding one and now his diaphragm had run out of room. He inhaled as slowly as possible, but something caught in his chest and he coughed violently. His mouth was suddenly full of something salty and viscous. He turned his head and scooped it from his tongue with a finger. It looked like a beaten egg on the ground, and he brushed dirt over it with his hand. His nose had filled up again too, but he would wait a few minutes before blowing it. |
