按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
'You'll get over it；' Sue said。
'If only the rest of you had walked out with me 。。。 Jesus Sue； why didn't you？ We could have had them by the balls。 I never figured you for an establishment pawn。'
Sue felt her face grow hot。 'I don't know about anyone else； but I wasn't being anybody's pawn。 I took the punishment because I thought I earned it。 We did a suck…off thing。 End of statement。'
'Bullshit。 That fucking Carrie runs around saying everyone but her and her gilt…edged momma are going to bell and you can stick up for her？ We should have taken those rags and stuffed them down her throat。'
'Sure。 Yeah。 See you around； Chris。' She pushed out of the booth。
This time it was Chris who coloured the blood slammed to her face in a sudden rush； as if a red cloud had passed over some inner sun。
'Aren't you getting to be the Joan of Arc around here！ I seem to remember you were in there pitching with the rest of us。'
'Yes；' Sue said trembling。 'But I stopped。'
'Oh； aren't you just it？' Chris marvelled。 'Oh my yes。 Take your root beer with you。 I'm afraid I might touch it and turn to gold。'
She didn't take her root beer。 She turned and half…walked； half…stumbled out。 The upset inside her was very great； too great yet for either tears or anger。 She was a getalong girl； and it was the first fight she had been in； physical or verbal； since grade…school pigtail pulling。 And it was the first time in her life that she had actively espoused a Principle。
And of course Chris had hit her in just the right place； had hit her exactly where she was most vulnerable： She way being a hypocrite； there seemed no way to avoid that； and deeply； sheathed within her and hateful； was the knowledge that one of the reasons she had gone to Miss Desjardin's hour of calisthenics and sweating runs around the gym Floor had nothing to do with nobility。 She wasn't going to miss her last Spring Ball for anything。 Not for anything。
Tommy was nowhere in sight。
She began to walk back toward the school； her stomach churning unhappily； Little Miss Sorority； Suzy Creemcheese； The Nice Girl who only does It with the boy she plans to marry … with the proper Sunday supplement coverage； of course。 Two kids。 Beat the living shit out of them if they show any signs of honesty； screwing； fighting； or refusing to grin each time some mythic honcho yelled frog。
Spring Ball。 Blue gown。 Corsage kept all the afternoon in the fridge。 Tommy in a white dinner jacket； cummerbund； black pants； black shoes。 Parents taking photos posed by the living…room sofa with Kodak Starflashes and Polaroid Big…Shots。 Crepe masking the stark gymnasium girders。 Two bands： one rock； one mellow。 No fifth wheels need apply。 Mortimer Snurd； please keep out。 Aspiring country club members and future residents of Kleen Korners only。
The tears finally came and she began to run。
From The Shadow Exploded （p。 60）：
The following excerpt is from a letter to Donna Kellogg from Christine Hargensen。 The Kellogg girl moved from Chamberlain to Providence； Rhode Island； in the fall of 1978。 She was apparently one of Chris Hargensen's few close friends and a confidante。 The letter is postmarked May 17；1979：
'So I'm out of the Prom and my yellow…guts father says he won't give them what they deserve。 But they're not going to get away with it。 I don't know what exactly I'm going to do yet but I guarantee you everyone is going to get a big fucking surprise 。 。 。'
It was the seventeenth。 May seventeenth。 She crossed the； day off the calendar in her room as soon as she slipped into her long white nightgown。 She crossed off each day as it passed with a heavy black felt pen； and she supposed it expressed a very bad attitude toward life。 She didn't really care。 The only thing she really cared about was knowing that Momma was going to make her go back to school tomorrow and she would have to face all of Them。
She sat down in the small Boston rocker （bought and paid for with her own money） beside the window； closed her eyes； and swept Them and all the clutter of her conscious thoughts from her mind。 It was like sweeping a floor。 Lift the rug of your subconscious mind and sweep all the dirt under。 Good…bye。
She opened her eyes。 She looked at the hairbrush on her bureau。
Flex。
She was lifting the hairbrush。 It was heavy。 It was like lifting a barbell with very weak arms。 Oh。 Grunt。
The hairbrush slid to the edge of the bureau； slid out past the point where gravity should have toppled it； and then dangled； as if on an invisible string。 Carrie's eyes had closed to slits。 Veins pulsed in her temples。 A doctor might have been interested in what her body was doing at that instant； it made no rational sence。 Respiration had fallen to sixteen breaths per minute。 Blood pressure up to 190/100。 Heartbeat up to 140 … higher than astronauts under the heavy g…load of lift…off。 Temperature down to 94。3。 Her body was burning energy that seemed to be ing from nowhere and seemed to be going nowhere。 An electroencephalogram would have shown alpha waves that were no longer waves at all； but great； jagged spikes。
She let the hairbrush down carefully。 Good。 Last night she had dropped it。 Lose all your points； go to jail。
She closed her eyes again and rocked。 Physical functions began to revert to the norm； her respiration speeded until she was nearly panting。 The rocker had a slight squeak。 Wasn't annoying； though。 Was soothing。 Rock； rock。 Clear your mind。
'Carrie？' Her mother's voice； slightly disturbed； floated up。
（she's getting interference like the radio when you turn on the blender good good）
'Have you said your prayers； Carrie？'
'I'm saying them；' she called back。
Yes。 She was saying them； all right。
She looked at her small studio bed。
Flex。
Tremendous weight。 Huge。 Unbearable。
The bed trembled and then the end came up perhaps three inches。
It dropped with a crash。 She waited； a small smile playing about her lips； for Momma to call upstairs angrily。 She didn't。 So Carrie got up； went to her bed。 and slid between the cool sheets。 Her head ached and she felt giddy； as she always did after these exercise sessions。 Her heart was pounding in a fierce； scary way。
She reached over； turned off the light； and lay back。 No pillow。 Momma didn't allow her a pillow。
She thought of imps and families and witches。
（am i a witch momma the devil's whore）
riding through the night； souring milk； overturning butter chums； blighting crops while They huddled inside their houses with hex signs scrawled on Their doors。
She closed her eyes； slept； and dreamed of huge； living stones crashing through the night； seeking out Momma； seeking out Them。 They were trying to run； trying to hide。 But the rock would not hide them； the dead tree gave no shelter。
From My Name is Susan Snell； by Susan Snell （New York： Simon & Schuster； 1986）； pp。 i…iv：
There's one thing no one has understood about what happened in Chamberlain on Prom Night。 The press hasn't understood it； the scientists at Duke University haven't understood it； David Congress hasn't understood it … although his The Shadow Exploded is probably the only half…decent book written on the subject … and certainly The White mission； which used me as a handy scapegoat； did not understand it。
This one thing is the most fundamental fact： We were kids。
Carrie was seventeen； Chris Hargensen was seventeen； I was seventeen； Tommy Ross was eighteen； Billy Nolan （who spent a year repeating the ninth grade； presumably before he learned how to shoot his cuffs during examinations） was nineteen 。。。
Older kids react in more socially acceptable ways than younger kids； but they still have a way of making bad decisions； of over…reacting； or underestimating。
In the first section which follows this introduction I must show these tendencies in myself as well as I am able。 Yet the matter which I am going to discuss is at the root of my involvement in Prom Night； and if I am to clear my name； I must begin by recalling scenes which I find particularly painful 。。。
I have told this story before； most notoriously before The White mission； which received it with incredulity。 In the wake of two hundred deaths and the destruction of an entire town； it is so easy to forget one thing。 We were kids。 We were kids。 We were kids trying