The Funhouse

took a closer look at the woman, when he saw what had been done to her, he cried out involuntarily, quickly turned away from her, stumbled a few steps into the grass, dropped to his knees, and was violently, wrackingly sick.

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    5
        
        The dive was the teenage hangout in Royal City. It was on Main Street, four blocks from the high school. There wasn't anything special about it, so far as Amy could see. A soda fountain. A shortorder grill. Ten tables with oilcloth draped over them. Eight shiny, red leatherette booths. Half a dozen pinball machines in an alcove in the back. A jukebox. That was it. Nothing fancy. Amy figured there had to be a million places just like it spread all over the country. She knew of four others right here in little old Royal City. But for some mysterious reason, perhaps herd instinct, perhaps because the name of the establishment sounded like the kind of sleazy dump their parents would disapprove of, Royal City 's teenagers congregated at The Dive in greater numbers than they did anywhere else in town.
        Amy had been a waitress at The Dive for the past two summers, and she was going to work there full-time again starting the first of June, until the junior college opened in September. She also pulled a few hours of hash-slinging during the school year, around the holidays and on most weekends. She took a small allowance out of her earnings, hardly enough for pocket money, and the rest went into her savings account for college.
        On Sunday, the day following the senior prom, Amy worked from noon until six. The Dive was exceptionally busy. By four o'clock she was worn out. By five o'clock she was amazed that she could still stand. As the shift-change neared, she caught herself glancing at the clock every few minutes, willing the hands to move faster, faster.
        She wondered if her uncharacteristic lack of energy could be explained by her pregnancy. Probably. Some of her strength was being diverted to the baby. Even this early on, it was bound to have its effect on her. Wasn't it?
        Dwelling on her pregnancy depressed her. Depressed, she found the time crawling by even slower than before.
        A few minutes before six, Liz Duncan came into The Dive. She looked smashing. She was wearing skin-tight French jeans and a mauve and blue sweater that appeared as if it had been knitted on her. She was a pretty blonde with an extremely cute figure. Amy saw boys looking up from all over the room as Liz walked through the door.
        Liz was alone, currently between boyfriends. She was always between boyfriends but never for long, she went through guys the way Amy went through a box of Kleenex. Yesterday evening Liz had gone to the prom with a one-night stand. It seemed to Amy that every relationship Liz had with a boy was a one-night stand, even if it went on for as long as a month or two, Liz never desired anything lasting. Unlike other high school girls, she was repelled by the thought of exchanging rings and going steady with just one guy. She liked variety, and she seemed to thrive on impermanence. She was the Bad Girl of the senior class, and some of her exploits were legendary among her peers. She didn't give a damn what anyone thought of her.
        Amy was drawing two frosted mugs of root beer from the soda fountain when Liz breezed up to the counter and said, Hey, kid, how's it going?”
        “I'm frazzled,” Amy said.
        “You get off soon?”
        “Five minutes.”
        “Doing anything after?”
        “No. I'm glad you came in. I have to talk to you.”
        “Sounds mysterious.”
        “It's important,” Amy said.
        “Think the house will treat us to cherry Cokes?”
        “Sure. There's an empty booth over there. You stake a claim to it, and I'll join you as soon as I get off work.”
        A few minutes later Amy brought the Cokes to the booth and sat down opposite Liz.
        “What's up?” Liz asked.
        Amy stirred her Coke with a straw. “Well… I need to… ”
        “Yeah?”
        I need to… borrow some money.”
        “Sure. I can let you have ten anyway. Will that help?”
        Liz, I've got to raise at least three or four hundred bucks. Probably more.”
        “You serious?”
        “Yes.”
        Jesus, Amy, you know me. When it comes to money, my hands have grease on them. The stuff just slips away. My folks give it to me pretty much whenever I ask, and then,