The Feud Read Online Free PDF

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    Though usually deserving of his father’s characterization of him, “honest as the day is long,” Tony Beeler had not been thoroughly truthful about his encounter with the Bullard girl at the Millville public park the summer before. She was somewhat shorter than average and not heavy, but she had large, firm breasts that rubbed against him when they danced, while his right hand, on her back, could feel the tense brassiere strap that crossed the deep groove of her spine. He immediately got an erection that was so powerful as to embarrass him, and he drew his pelvis in while pushing forward with his upper half, and he found his face so intimate with hers that his glasses were put at a crazy angle and their lenses were fogged by the combined breaths.
    It was something of a relief, as well as a definite loss, when the next record to be heard was too fast for Tony’s modest talent at dancing. He led her off the slab of concrete that served as dance floor, and took off his specs and cleaned them on the tail of his sports shirt, conveniently worn outside the trousers, squinted ritualistically before returning the glasses to his nose and, when they were once again in place, looked not at her but rather over the heads of the nearby jitterbugs.
    He said, “I guess you’re from Millville.”
    “Yeah.”
    “I thought you was.” He now looked at the concrete in front of his own shoes, the toes of which he had freshly whitened before leaving the house. “I’m from Hornbeck.”
    “I thought you were,” said the girl, looking earnestly at him. “Or someplace else than here.”
    This could have been insulting. He met her eyes at last. “You mean I look like I ain’t good enough for Millville? I look like a hillbilly or something?”
    She had the bluest eyes in the world, and light brown hair that hung in long strands, and a soft, wide mouth that now widened farther in a slow smile. “It’s just I know most of the Millville boys. This town isn’t all that big.”
    “Neither is Hornbeck,” said Tony, “but I like it. I wish we had these dances over there, though.”
    “Why?” She stood almost as close to him as if they were still dancing. He continued to be aroused though no longer in actual contact.
    “I always feel better in my own town. I play football against your guys.”
    “I couldn’t recognize you with your helmet off,” the girl said, “but I have probably seen you. Two of my cousins are on the team: Gene and Norman Walmsley?”
    “Norman’s right halfback, I think. Gene’s second string, ain’t he?”
    “Well, you do know them, don’t you?”
    “It was me who tackled Norman when his collarbone got busted.”
    “I remember that. You did that?”
    Tony assumed a noble look. “I didn’t do it to hurt him, I swear. I just play to win. I hit hard but clean.”
    She lowered her head. “Gee.”
    Suddenly Tony was completely exhausted of things to say, and he felt foolish, standing there silently next to a girl. He believed that if his friends were to see him now, they would make jeering remarks and elbow one another.
    Therefore he said, “Well, I got to get going.”
    “O.K.”
    “Listen, if you see your cousin, why, you tell him I hope there’s no hard feelings. I been hurt myself more than once, had some ribs busted and hurt my knee real bad: it’s never been the same since. I don’t blame the other guys.”
    “I’ll be glad to tell him, but I don’t know your name.”
    He told her and got hers in return: Eva Bullard.
    “I’ll see you around then, Eva.” He remembered his manners, from the course in social dancing given on three successive Wednesday nights at the high-school gymnasium the year before. “Thank you very much for the pleasure of your company.”
    “You’re welcome, I’m sure.” She had probably taken a similar course at the Millville school.
    He regretted that his own had not included instructions on how to jitterbug: you had to learn that on your own, but you