"Helen? Yeah, she's a brain," he agreed. "A cute kid, though," he added, as if the combination of cuteness and intelligence was cause for surprise. "We have a ball."
"Miss Hendricks said you were going steady."
"Yeah? You might say that, Prof. But I'm not the kind of guy that likes to be tied down. You know?"
I was groping, trying to find a way to ask him where he had been the night before without seeming to be probing. I found myself disliking the youthful arrogance and it was an effort to keep the amiably stupid smile on my lips. I stood for a moment in silence, watching the scrimmage. The subs executed an intricate play that caught the defense completely out of position for the pass. Boyle cursed vehemently.
"They should have smelled that one a mile off," he growled.
"Doesn't the coach object when you go out on dates during the week?" I asked suddenly. "Or do you have a curfew?"
He spat vigorously. "Nuts," he said. "I'm his bread and butter. I go out when I want to."
I hesitated. "I thought I saw you and Helen again last night," I said. "Pretty late, too. I was on my way home from a movie."
He swung around slowly and the small brown eyes caught mine in a fixed stare. The indefinable trace of contempt marked the expression of his eyes and mouth.
"Prof," he said softly, "you didn't see me and Helen out last night. You got something on your mind. Maybe you should tell me what it is."