She grabbed his ear and twisted it. Gently at first, then harder. “A secret?” she said.
“Yes,” he gasped. “It’s a secret, and I can’t tell you. You’re hurting me.”
“I should hope so,” she said. “And it will go very hard for you indeed if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”
He grabbed her wrist and dug his strong fingers into the thin tendons on their insides, twisting his fingertips for maximal effect. Abruptly, she released his ear and clenched her wrist hard, sticking it between her thighs.
“Owwww! That bloody hurt, you bastard. What did you do that for?”
“My secrets,” Alan said, “are secret.”
She held her wrist up and examined it. “Heaven help you if you’ve left a bruise, Alvin,” she said. “I’ll kill you.” She turned her wrist from side to side. “All right,” she said. “All right. Kiss it better, and you can come to my place for supper on Saturday at six p.m..” She shoved her arm into his face and he kissed the soft skin on the inside of her wrist, putting a little tongue in it.
She giggled and punched him in the arm. “Saturday, then!” she called as she ran off.
Edward-Felix-Gerald were too young to give him shit about his schoolyard romance, and Brian was too sensitive, but Dave had taken to lurking about the schoolyard, spying on the children, and he’d seen Marci break off from a clench with Alan, take his hand, and plant it firmly on her tiny breast, an act that had shocked Danny to the core.