Polar 44, Ring 5
“That sounds wonderful.” Kodell changed the subject rapidly but Ken had scored
When he returned to his room, his whole being was charged with anticipatory pleasure.
Cal fumbled his way over to his desk near the window. “That was a little stratagem of the
first order you just executed.”
“Thought it was pretty clever myself.”
“For once you faked out the opposition with unusual poise, but it was a lousy trick.”
“You’ve got a date for the concert, haven’t you?”
“O.K.. I read you so don’t go any further. I’ll have to pick her up for you… oh, say
“Stop the black beauty in front of the field house. I’ll be out of the locker room by
“That’s going to be a heck of a run to get to the Memorial Auditorium by 8:15. I’ve got to
play by ear to find it.” Cal unbuttoned his shirt and looked into the closet for a hook.
“You know, Brother Ken, I kind of admire that little number myself… but then, that
would be too much effort. Anyway I’m runnin’ out of white shirts,”
Ken climbed the stairs to the dormitory and stopped momentarily at the landing to watch
the cumulus clouds gather way and cruise across the moon. The dormitory was unheated
as usual, and the northwest wind passed freely in one window and out the other across the
center aisle but the cold sheets felt good. He lay back and listened to the muffled
breathing of his fraternity brothers while his thoughts probed the future. She was a
• • •
The evening song lingered in the dark blue of late sunset after library chimes were still.
At this time of evening the University paused to listen to what would someday recall
memories grown more bright with age.
Football practice continued under the lights and faded red jersies steamed with sweat
until the trainer had finished the last wind sprint.
Ken looked up at the locker room clock. He had ten minutes to take off his uniform,
shave and dress for the concert. The wet cloth of his practice jersey clung to corners on
his shoulder pads like tentacles. One of the compets moved quickly.
“Unhook this thing.”
“Got a hot date?”
“You might say that.”
“Better save the speed for Saturday.” It was ironic that the compet should say that. The
varsity hadn’t needed him on Saturday afternoon for two whole seasons and the chances
were excellent that they would never need him. He played with the Rinky Dinks as the
J.V.’s had dubbed themselves„ and their practice consisted of scrimmaging against the
varsity defense, using the expected attacks of future opponents.