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"
Hi
,
Miss
Lavinia
!
"
The
boys
loped
away
.
Waving
after
them
quietly
,
Lavinia
Nebbs
sat
all
alone
with
a
tall
cool
lemonade
in
her
white
I
fingers
,
tapping
it
to
her
lips
,
sipping
,
waiting
.
"
Here
I
am
,
Lavinia
.
"
She
turned
and
there
was
Francine
,
all
in
snow
white
,
at
the
bottom
steps
of
the
porch
,
in
the
smell
of
zinnias
and
hibiscus
.
Lavinia
Nebbs
locked
her
front
door
and
,
leaving
her
lemonade
glass
half
empty
on
the
porch
,
said
,
"
It
’
s
a
fine
night
for
the
movie
.
"
They
walked
down
the
street
.
"
Where
you
going
,
girls
?
"
cried
Miss
Fern
and
Miss
Roberta
from
their
porch
over
the
way
.
Lavinia
called
back
through
the
soft
ocean
of
darkness
:
"
To
the
Elite
Theater
to
see
CHARLIE
CHAPLIN
!
"
"
Won
’
t
catch
us
out
on
no
night
like
this
,
"
wailed
Miss
Fern
.
"
Not
with
the
Lonely
One
strangling
women
.
Lock
ourselves
up
in
our
closet
with
a
gun
.
"
"
Oh
,
bosh
!
"
Lavinia
heard
the
old
women
’
s
door
bang
and
lock
,
and
she
drifted
on
,
feeling
the
warm
breath
of
summer
night
shimmering
off
the
oven
-
baked
sidewalks
.
It
was
like
walking
on
a
hard
crust
of
freshly
warmed
bread
.
The
heat
pulsed
under
your
dress
,
along
your
legs
,
with
a
stealthy
and
not
unpleasant
sense
of
invasion
.
