Prom Night in Purgatory(36)

It was a good thing Lizzie was with her because although the general layout was the same and she recognized some of the homes, the spaces between the homes was larger, and much was missing from the landscape. Main Street was decidedly different. Although many of the buildings were the same, the businesses they housed had almost all changed. There was a huge drugstore, a J.C Penney and Co. department store, a jeweler that had a giant cartoonish picture of a diamond and “Watch Repair” emblazoned below. There was a barber shop with the twirly red and blue striped pole and men in hats going in and out of the establishment. There was a furniture store that didn’t exist in modern day Honeyville, either. It had televisions and toasters in the windows with a banner that shouted that they now carried the “Crosley Automatic -- the world’s first fully automatic television with five electronic wonders at your fingertips.” A bank on the corner of Main and Center Street, with a massive clock jutting out from the sign declared it “A great time to save.”

There was a courthouse with stately pillars that must have been torn down before Maggie ever arrived in Honeyville. It sat next to Honeyville High which looked old even in 1958. No wonder they were building a new one. Maggie wondered if she would have a chance to go see it, and if the construction was finished. It had just been completed in the summer of 1958 when Billy and Johnny fell from the balcony. Maggie pushed those thoughts away.

Everywhere she looked were old/new cars and people in the costume of 1950s America. Maggie felt like she was on a movie set, and her eyes whipped back and forth at one wonder after another. One department store had “5 cents to $1.50” in thick gold lettering above its large windows, and like every female in history who smells a bargain, she was tempted to browse, just for a minute. Maggie thought of Johnny driving up and down the streets, comparing Honeyville then and now, and felt a surge of melancholy, finally understanding exactly how different the two towns really were.

“Hey, Dizzy Lizzie! Who’s your babysitter?” Lizzie had crossed the street and swung off her bike in front of The Malt, Maggie close behind her. Maggie gawked at the group of boys piling out of a big blue Lincoln and almost crashed Irene’s bike into the side of the diner. She let out a screech and at the last minute managed to brake and step off without making a fool of herself. She didn’t look at the boys, but primly hitched her bike on the rack and pretended disinterest in a young Roger Carlton and his three friends.

“She’s not my baby sitter, Roger!” Lizzie retorted hotly and stuck her tongue out at one of the boys, who promptly stuck his out in response. Roger slapped the back of his head and sighed. The boys wore V-necked sweaters that revealed the collars of their white undershirts. They all had identical haircuts as well -- buzzed sides with a short flat top. The three seemed to take their cues from Roger, and when he crossed his arms and smiled at Maggie, they repeated the action almost immediately.

“Introduce me, Lizzie.” Roger had a toothpick in his mouth that he slowly moved from one side to the other. Maggie had seen him three times now, and she liked him less each time, if that were even possible. Her heart pounded at his proximity, and she felt a little sick to her stomach. His hair was dark and his eyes green, and he was undoubtedly handsome - and very sure of himself.

“I’m telling Irene that you were staring at our cousin with drool on your chin, Roger,” Lizzie said snidely, looping her arm through Maggie’s and pulling her into The Malt. That seemed to bring Roger up short. It was one of his friends who called out after them.

“Does the cousin have a name, Dizzy?”

“Do you have a brain, Larry?” Lizzie replied, and Larry’s friends guffawed at her wit. Maggie decided she definitely liked her grandmother.

“Inquiring minds want to know!” another boy yelled out.

“Her name is Maggie, okay? Now go away!” Lizzie grumped, and they walked into The Malt. It wasn’t much to look at, really. It was shaped like a long train car with small windows running all along the side. Inside, the roof was domed and a long line of stools connected to an even longer bar ran along one side with narrow tables and metal chairs running along the side with the windows. A soda fountain, complete with pull levers, occupied one side of the counter, and grey menus with three red stripes along the top and three red stripes on the bottom were spread here and there for easy access. Big grey and red squares criss-crossed the floor, and a jukebox played songs in the corner. A man in a big white apron and a white cap dispensed soda and barked out orders to the kitchen behind him. There were a couple of waitresses in grey dresses with rounded white collars, little caps, and white ruffled aprons manning the tables. The place was brimming with teenagers.

Lizzie hopped up on a stool and pulled Maggie along, tapping the shoulder of the fellow sitting between the only two empty stools and asking him politely if he would “scoot over so she and her friend could sit together.”

He slid to his right agreeably, and Lizzie patted the stool he had vacated, indicating that Maggie should sit. She did so and was trying not to be too noticeable about staring at everyone and everything when Lizzie informed her that she would order for both of them.

The two boys to her right were discussing a ball player’s salary, one exclaiming that “before you know it, athletes would be making more than the president!” She giggled a little at that, and one of the boys looked up at her in surprise. Maggie’s giggle died in her throat. She recognized him. He glanced away immediately, blushing furiously, apparently unaccustomed to eye contact with girls.