You know, this is the first girl I really ever talked to that talks like a person, not trying to be cute or something.
We walk around to the theater, and being it’s Wednesday, there’s a matinee about to start. The man doesn’t seem to be one bit worried about taking our money. No wonder. It’s two dollars and ninety cents each. So we’re inside with our tickets before we’ve hardly stopped to think.
Suddenly Mary says, “Oops! I better call Mom! Let’s find out what time the show is over.”
We do, and Mary phones. She says to me, “I just told her I was walking past West Side Story and found I could get a ticket. I didn’t say anything about you.”
“Why, would she mind?”
Mary squints and looks puzzled. “I don’t know. I just really don’t know. It never happened before.”
We go in to the show, and she is right, it’s terrific. I hardly ever went to a live show before, except a couple of children’s things and something by Shakespeare Pop took me to that was very confusing. But this West Side Story is clear as a bell.
We have an orangeade during intermission, and I make the big gesture and pay for both of them. Mary says, “Isn’t it wonderful! I just happened to meet you at the beach, and then I meet you at Goody’s, and we get to see this show that I’ve wanted to go to for ages. None of my friends at school want to spend this much money on a show.”
“It’s wonderful,” I say. “After it’s over, I’m going back to buy the record.”
So after the show we buy it, and then we walk along together to the subway. I’ll have to get off at the first stop, Fourteenth Street, and she’ll go on to Coney, the end of the line.