Quinn Read Online Free PDF Page B

senior class.”
    â€œThat may well be true.”
    â€œI can’t
graduate
like this.”
    â€œWhat would people think?” Van said.
    Quinn continued, her voice extravagantly patient, as if she were talking to a feebleminded child. “I don’t want just
anybody
to do it, do I? It has to be the right person.”
    â€œChris Hartley is applying for the position of your deflowerer?”
    Quinn nodded.
    â€œYou’re crazy,” Van said.
    â€œI knew you’d say that, which is exactly why I didn’t tell you. And if you mention this to a living soul I will personally remove your toenails.”
    Van shook her head. “What’re the conditions of this contest, or whatever it is?”
    â€œWell, the rules called for something original,” Quinn answered. “I hope the other guys read the instructions at least.”
    â€œJust how many
are
there?”
    Quinn reached for her Religion notebook and flipped it open to the last lecture’s notes. Silently she pointed to the list she had penciled in the margin. The names and their descriptions had been heavily embellished with doodles, but Van could still make them out.
CHRIS H .: maternal instinct
    JERRY L .: body beautiful
    PHIL S .: wiseass
    MYRON S .: intellect
    JACK W .: good jokes
    BOB K .: gentle soul
    Van looked at Quinn in silence for a moment. Then she said, “Did you ever consider availing yourself of the free student-counseling service?”
    â€œAre you kidding? What would I do with a shrink?”
    â€œIt might help.”
    â€œHelp what? I don’t need help. I need Marvin the Magnificent. I’m going to get him.”
    â€œBut Quinn …” Van’s forehead was wrinkled with the effort to explain. “It’s kind of … bizarre, don’t you think? To go about it this way?”
    â€œI think it’s eminently practical.”
    â€œI wish you all the luck in the world.”
    â€œYou have no faith.”
    â€œCan’t you see? It’s like … coupling by computer. Mail-order sex. You’ve got this thing about control, and it isn’t something you
can
control. Or ought to, anyway. People fall in love by accident.”
    â€œI don’t.”
    â€œI really get the feeling you’re involved in a classical search for the ideal father figure.”
    â€œOh,
can
it, Freud, for God’s sake. Quit analyzing me.
    Van fell silent.
    â€œUntil you butted into this I was having a lot of fun,” Quinn said. Van looked so pained that Quinn’s face softened and she held her hand out placatingly. “Hey, listen, it’s just that it’s time for me now. It’d be okay if we could put Stanley through the mimeograph machine, but there’s no way. Can’t I have someone, too?”
    Van held her hair coiled into a twisted mass on the top of her head. Now she sighed and released it, letting it fall silky and dark past her shoulders. She stood up, headed slowly for the door, and turned to look at Quinn. “Listen, you’ll keep me posted?”
    Quinn nodded.
    Van hesitated for a moment, then said good night and closed the door carefully behind her.

Chapter 4
    Jerry Landring’s room was a mess. Every conceivable surface was littered with something—football uniforms, soccer uniforms, sweat shirts, sneakers with cleats, sneakers without cleats, helmets, kneepads, and jockstraps. At the moment the chaotic atmosphere of the place was augmented by the presence of six young men who sat or flopped wherever space permitted. Jerry stood barefoot on his rumpled bed and scratched on a chalkboard that hung shoulder-high from a tired-looking nail. The others watched intently as a pattern resembling a tennis tournament scoreboard appeared. Six names were listed on the left-hand side:
Bob, Chris, Jack, Myron, Phil, Jerry.
From a bracket directly to the right of the names two lines projected, upon which were written the names
Chris
and