sk.carrie-第16章

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We　know　that　Carrie　was　the　victim　of　her　mother's　religious　mania。　We　know　that　she　possessed　a　latent　telekinetic　talent；　monly　referred　to　as　TK。　We　know　that　this　led　'wild　talent'　is　really　a　hereditary　trait；　produced　by　a　gene　that　is　usually　recessive；　if　present　at　all。　We　suspect　that　the　TK　ability　may　be　glandular　in　nature。　We　know　that　Carrie　produced　at　least　one　demonstration　of　her　ability　as　a　small　girl　when　she　was　put　into　an　extreme　situation　of　guilt　and　stress。　We　know　that　a　second　extreme　situation　of　guilt　and　stress　arose　from　a　shower…room　hazing　incident。　It　has　been　theorized　（especially　by　W。G。　Throneberry　and　Julia　Givens；　Berkeley）　that　resurgence　of　the　TK　ability　at　this　point　was　caused　by　both　psychological　factors　（i。e。　the　reaction　of　the　other　girls　and　Carrie　herself　to　their　first　menstrual　period）　and　physiological　factors　（i。e。；　the　advent　of　puberty）。
And　finally；　we　know　that　on　Prom　Night；　a　third　sum　situation　arose；　causing　the　terrible　events　which　we　now　must　begin　to　discuss。　We　will　begin　with　。。。
（i　am　not　nervous　not　a　bit　nervous）
Tommy　had　called　earlier　with　her　corsage；　and　now　she　was　pinning　it　to　the　shoulder　of　her　gown　herself。　There　was　no　momma；　of　course；　to　do　it　for　her　and　make　sure　it　was　in　the　right　place；　Momma　had　locked　herself　in　the　chapel　and　had　been　in　there　for　the　last　two　hours；　praying　hysterically。　Her　voice　rose　and　fen　in　frightening；　incoherent　cycles。
（I'm　sorry　momma　but　I　can't　be　sorry）
When　she　had　it　fixed　to　her　satisfaction；　she　dropped　her　hands　and　stood　quietly　for　a　moment　with　her　eyes　closed。
There　was　no　full…length　mirror　in　the　house。
（vanity　vanity　all　is　vanity）
but　she　thought　she　was　all。　right。　She　had　to　be。　She…　
She　opened　her　eyes　again。　The　Black　Forest　cuckoo　clock；　bought　with　Green　Stamps；　said　seven…ten。
（he'll　be　here　in　twenty　minutes）
Would　he？
Maybe　it　was　all　just　an　elaborate　joke；　the　final　crusher；　the　ultimate　punch　line。　To　leave　her　sitting　here　half　the　night　in　her　crushed…velvet　prom　gown　with　its　princess　waistline；　juliet　sleeves　and　simple　straight　skirt　…　and　her　tea　roses　pinned　to　her　left　shoulder。
From　the　other　room；　on　the　rise　now；　'。　。　。　in　hallowed　earth！　We　know　thou　bring'st　the　Eye　That　Watcheth；　the　hideous　three…lobbed　eye；　and　the　sound　of　black　trumpets。　We　most　heartily　repent…'
Carrie　did　not　think　anyone　could　understand　the　brute　courage　it　had　taken　to　reconcile　herself　to　this；　to　leave　herself　open　to　whatever　fearsome　possibilities　the　night　might　realize。　Being　stood　up　could　hardly　be　the　worst　of　them。　In　fact；　in　a　kind　of　sneaking；　wishful　way　she　thought　it　might　be　for　the　best　if
（no　stop　that）
Of　course　it　would　be　easier　to　stay　here　with　Momma。　Safer。　She　knew　what　They　thought　of　Momma。　Well；　maybe　Momma　was　a　fanatic；　a　freak；　but　at　least　she　was　predictable；　the　house　was　predictable。　She　never　came　home　to　laughing；　shrieking　girls　who　threw　things。
And　if　he　didn't　e；　if　she　drew　back　and　gave　up？　High　school　would　be　over　in　a　month。　Then　what？　A　creeping。　subterranean　existence　in　this　house；　supported　by　Momma；　watching　game　shows　and　soap　operas　all　day　on　television　at　Mrs　Garrison's　house　when　she　had　Carrie　In　To　Visit　（Mrs　Garrison　was　eighty…six）；　walking　down　to　the　Centre　to　get　a　malted　after　supper　at　the　Kelly　Fruit　when　it　was　deserted；　getting　fatter；　losing　hope；　losing　even　the　power　to　think？
No。　Oh　dear　God；　please　no。
（please　let　it　be　a　happy　ending）
'…protect　us　from　he　with　the　split　foot　who　waits　in　the　alleys　and　in　the　parking　lots　of　roadhouses；　O　Saviour…'
Seven　twenty…five。
Restlessly；　without　thinking　she　began　to　lift　objects　with　her　mind　and　put　them　back　down；　the　way　a　nervous　woman　awaiting　someone　in　a　restaurant　will　fold　and　unfold　her　napkin。　She　could　dangle　half　a　dozen　objects　in　air　at　one　time；　and　not　a　sign　of　tiredness　or　headache。　She　kept　waiting　for　the　power　to　abate；　but　it　remained　at　high　water　with　no　sign　of　waning。　The　other　night　on　her　way　home　from　school；　she　had　rolled　a　parked　car
（oh　please　god　let　it　not　be　a　joke）
twenty　feet　down　the　main　street　curb　with　no　strain　at　all。　The　courthouse　idlers　had　stared　at　it　as　if　their　eyes　would　pop　out；　and　of　course　she　stared　too；　but　she　was　smiling　inside。
The　cuckoo　popped　out　of　the　clock　and　spoke　once。　Seven…thirty。
She　had　grown　a　little　wary　of　the　terrific　strain　using　the　power　seemed　to　put　on　her　heart　and　lungs　and　internal　thermostat。　she　suspected　it　would　be　all　too　possible　for　her　heart　to　literally　burst　with　the　strain。　It　was　like　being　in　another's　body　and　forcing　her　to　run　and　run　and　run。　You　would　not　pay　the　cost　yourself；　the　other　body　would。　She　was　beginning　to　realize　that　her　power　was　perhaps　not　so　different　from　the　powers　of　Indian　fakirs；　who　stroll　across　hot　coals；　run　needles　into　their　eyes；　or　blithely　bury　themselves　for　periods　up　to　six　weeks。　Mind　over　matter　in　any　form　is　a　terrific　drain　on　the　body's　resources。
Seven　thirty…two。
（he's　not　ing）
（don't　think　about　it　a　watched　pot　doesn't　boil　hell　e）
（no　he　won't　he's　out　laughing　at　you　with　his　friends　and　after　a　little　bit　they'll　drive　by　in　one　of　their　fast　noisy　cars　laughing　and　hooting　and　yelling）
Miserably；　she　began　lifting　the　sewing　machine　up　and　down；　swinging　it　in　widening　arcs　throught　the　air。
'…and　protect　us　also　from　rebellious　daughters　imbued　with　the　willfulness　of　the　Wicked　One…'
'Shut　up！'　Carrie　screamed　suddenly。
There　was　startled　silence　for　a　moment；　and　then　the　babbling　chant　began　again。
Seven　thirty…three。
Not　ing
（then　i'll　wreck　the　house）
The　thought　came　to　her　naturally　and　cleanly。　First　the　sewing　machine；　driven　through　the　living　room　wall。　The　couch　through　a　window。　Tables；　chairs；　books　and　tracts　all　flying；　the　plumbing　ripped　loose　and　still　spurting；　like　arteries　ripped　free　of　flesh。　The　roof　itself；　if　that　were　within　her　power；　shingles　exploding　upward　into　the　night　like　startled　pigeons
Lights　splashed　gaudily　across　the　window。
Other　cars　had　gone　by；　making　her　heart　leap　a　little；　but　this　one　was　going　much　more　slowly。
（O）
She　ran　to　the　window；　unable　to　restrain　herself；　and　it　was　him；　Tommy；　just　climbing　out　of　his　car；　and　even　under　the　street　light　he　was　handsome　and　alive　and　almost　。。。　crackling。　The　odd　word　made　her　want　to　giggle。
Momma　had　stopped　praying。
She　grabbed　her　fight　silken　wrap　from　where　it　had　lain　across　the　back　of　her　chair　and　put　it　around　her　bare　shoulders。　She　bit　her　lip；　touched　her　hair；　and　would　have　sold　her　soul　for　a　mirror。　The　buzzer　in　the　hall　made　its　harsh　cry。
She　made　herself　wait；　controlling　the　twitch　in　her　hands；　for　the　second　buzz　Then　she　went　slowly；　with　silken　swish。
She　opened　the　door　and　he　was　there；　nearly　blinding　in　white　dinner　jacket　and　dark　dress　pants。
They　looked　at　each　other；　and　neither　said　a　word。
She　felt　that　her　heart　would　break　if　he　uttered　so　much　as　the　wrong　sound；　and　if　he　laughed　she　would　die。　She　felt　…actually；　physically…her　whole　miserable　life　narrow　to　a　point　that　might　be　an　end　or　the　beginning　of　a　widening　beam。
Finally；　helpless；　she　said：　'Do　you　like　me？'
He　said：　'You're　beautiful。'
She　was。
From　The　Shadow　Exploded　（p。　131）：
While　those　going　to　the　Ewen　Spring　Ball　were　gathering　at　the　high　school　or　just　leaving　pre…Prom　buffets；　Christine　Hargensen　and　William　Nolan　had　met　in　a　room　above　a　local　town…limits　tavern　called　The　Cavalier。　We　know　that　they　had　been　meeting　there　for　some　time；　that　is　in　the　records　of　the　White　mission。　What　we　don't　know　is　whether　their　plans　were　plete　and　irrevocable　or　if　they　went　ahead　almost　on　whim　。。。
'Is　it　time　yet？'　She　asked　him　in　the　darkness。
He　looked　at　his　watch。　'No。'
Faintly；　through　the　board　floor；　came　the　thump　of　the　juke　playing　She's　Got　To　Be　a　Saint；　by　Ray　Price。　The　Cavalier；　Chris　reflected；　hadn't　changed　their　records　since　the　first　time　she'd　been　there　with　a　forged　ID　two　years　ago。　Of　course　then　she'd　been　down　in　the　taprooms；　not　on　one　of　Sam；　Deveaux's　'specials。'
Billy's　cigarette　winked　fitfully　in　the　dark；　like　the　eye　of　an　uneasy　demon。　She　watched　it　introspectively。　She　hadn't　let　him　sleep　with　her　until　last　Monday；　when　he　had　promised　that　he　and　his　greaser　friends　would　help　her　pull　the　string　on　Carrie　White　if　she　actually　dared　to　go　to　the　Prom　with　Tommy　Ross。　But　they　had　been　here　before；　and　had　had　some　pretty　hot　necking　going　on　…　what　she　thought　of　as　Scotch　love　and　what　he　would　call；　in　his　unfailing　ability　to　pinpoint　the　vulgar　the　…　dry　humps。
She　had　meant　to　make　him　wait　until　he　had　actually　done　something；
（but　of　course　he　did　he　got　the　blood）
but　it　had　all　begun　to　slip　out　of　her　hands；　and　it　made　heir　uneasy。　If　she　had　not　given　in　willingly　on　Monday；　he　would　have　taken　her；　by　force。
Billy　had　not　been　her　first　lover；　but　he　was　the　first　she　could　not　dance　and　dandle　at　her　whim。　Before　him　her　boys　had　been　clever　marionettes　with　clear；　pimple…free　faces　and　parents　with　connections　and　country…club　memberships。　They　drove　their　own　VWs　or　Javelins　or　Dodge　Chargers。　They　went　to　UMass　or　Boston　College。　They　wore　fraternity　windbreakers　in　the　fall　and　muscle…shirts　with　bright　stripes　in　the　summer。　They　smoked　marijuana　a　great　deal　and　talked　about　the　funny　things　that　happened　to　them　when　they　were　wrecked。　They　began　by　treating　her　with　patronizing　good　fellowship　（all　high　school　girls；　no　matter　how　good…looking；　were　Bush　League）　and　always　ended　up　trotting　after　her　with　panting；　doglike　lust。　If　they　trotted　long　enough　and　spent　enough　in　the　Process　she　usually　let　them　go　to　bed　with　her。　Quite　often　she　lay　passively　beneath　them；　not　helping　or　hindering；　until　it　was　over。　Later；　she　achieved　her　own　solitary　climax　while　viewing　the　incident　as　a　single　closed　loop　of　memory。
She　had　met　Billy　Nolan　following　a　drug　bust　at　a　Cambridge　apartment。　Four　students；　including　Chris's　date　for　the　evening　had　been　busted　for　possession。　Chris　and　the　other　girls　were　charged　with　being　present　there。　Her　father　took　care　of　it　with　quiet　efficiency；　and　asked　her　if　she　knew　what　would　happen　to　his　image　and　his　practice　if　his　daughter　was　taken　up　on　a　drug　charge。　She　told　him　that　she　doubted　if　anything　could　hurt　either　one；　and　he　took　her　car　away。
Billy　offered　her　a　ride　home　from　school　one　afternoon　a　week　later　and　she　accepted。
He　was　what　the　other　kids　called　a　white…soxer　or　a　machine…shop　Chuck。　Yet　something　about　him　excited　her　and　now；　lying　drowsily　in　this　illicit　bed　（but　with　an　awakening　sense　of　excitement　and　pleasurable　fear）；　she　thought　it　might　have　been　his　car　…　at　least　at　the　start。
It　was　a　million　miles　from　the　machine…stamped；　anonymous　vehicles　of　her　fraternity　dates　with　their　ventless　windows；　fold…up　steering　wheels；　and　vaguely　unpleasant　smell　of　plastic　scat　covers　and　windshield　solvent。
Billy's　car　was　old；　dark；　somehow　sinister；　the　windshield　was　milky　around　the　edges；　as　if　a　cataract　was　beginning　to　form。　The　seats　were　loose　and　unanchored。　Beer　bottles　clicked　and　rolled　in　the　back　（her　fraternity　dates　dra