Come Down From Your Fences

Chapter 38

Sarah had to admit that she was a little disappointed that Darry's idea of an "East Side kind of night" was to go bowling. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but she definitely didn't think it was going to require a shoe rental.

Darry spun around on his heel as he made another strike, pumping his arm back in victory. He did that every time. "Showoff," she muttered under her breath as she made the mark on the scorecard. She had never seen him act this way. He was competitive. Very competitive.

He also seemed to object to the way she chose to bowl. Apparently, her technique was lacking. Part of her hoped he would come up and show her the proper technique - the way a guy in a movie would always show the helpless girl how to play pool, or swing a golf club, or, well, throw a bowling ball. She even suggested it to him, but he didn't get the hint.

He came over to the table she was sitting at and knelt down, so that he was at eye level with her. "So, what's the score now?" He was grinning. Of course he was, he was winning.

"Does it really matter?" she asked as she stood up, dropping the pencil on top of the paper. Darry's row was full of X's, whereas hers was riddled with numbers, small numbers. Embarrassingly small numbers. She had an excuse - she hadn't bowled in years and she didn't own her own bowling ball. Darry, of course had his own ball ... and shoes. Apparently, they had belonged to his dad. Hers were rented, and they pinched.

As she was reaching for her bowling ball, Darry suddenly grabbed her hand. "You feelin' alright? You seem a little --" His voice trailed off and Sarah suddenly felt guilty.

A piece of hair had come loose from the scarf she had holding it up in a ponytail. She absentmindedly pushed it behind her ear with her free hand as she looked down at her shoes, studying the scuff marks on the worn leather. "I guess I'm not much fun tonight?" she said as she looked up, her eyes meeting his.

His mouth was moving, but she was suddenly deaf, unable to hear him. He hadn't let go of her hand and his thumb was making lazy circles across her knuckles. All her attention was focused that single sensation, the din of the crashing pins and loud rock music disappearing into a distant haze.

"What?" she asked dumbly, realizing he was talking to her.

Darry smiled - a crooked, knowing smile. Something fluttered in her stomach. She chalked it up to the lousy pizza the place served - at least that would have been the cause if they'd actually received the order for food that they'd placed almost a half an hour ago.

"I said, 'Bowling wasn't such a great idea?'" Darry said, apparently repeating himself. Sarah felt her cheeks grow hot as she stumbled for an answer.

"No, it's not that at all. Bowling is fine. I'm terrible at it, but bowling is fine."

"How about a beer?"

Her shoulders slumped in relief, like they'd finally found a solution. "A beer sounds wonderful. It might even help with my game," she joked.

"Couldn't hurt," Darry said with a laugh as he dropped her hand and made his way toward the bar located past the pinball and skeeball machines.

She stepped up to the line just as he called out, "Little to the right, Sarah."

Sighing, she took a step, swung her arm and released the ball a little harder than she intended. The sound of one pin falling barely registered above the noise of the place.

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A piercing scream tore through the dark room. A woman's scream. Dramatic music started to build, the notes growing darker and deeper as a shadowy figure approached, lurking in the trees.