riments and stuff--and
she can't see that for beans."

"Our science teacher is a dope," I say, because she is, "so I really never
got very interested in science. But I told Mom and Dad I was coming to the
aquarium to take notes today, so they wouldn't kick up such a fuss."

Mary shakes her head. "We ought to get our mothers together. Mine thinks
I'm wasting time if I even _go_ to the aquarium. I do, though, all the
time. I love the walrus."

"What does your pop do?"

"Father? He teaches philosophy at Brooklyn College. So I get it from both
sides. Just think, think, think. Father and Nina aren't hardly even
interested in _food_. Once in a while Nina spends all day cooking some
great fish soup or a chicken in wine, but the rest of the time I'm the
only one who takes time off from thinking to cook a hamburger. They live
on rolls and coffee and sardines."

Mary puts our cups in the sink and then opens a low cupboard. Instead of
pots and pans it has stacks of records in it. She pulls out _West Side
Story_ and then I see there's a record player on a side table. What d'you
know? A record player in the kitchen! This Left Bank style of living has
its advantages.

"I sit down here and eat and play records while I do my homework," says
Mary, which sounds pretty nice.

I ask her if she has any Belafonte, and she says, "Yes, a couple," but she
puts on something else. It's slow, but sort of powerful, and it makes you
feel kind of powerful yourself, as if you could do anything.

"What's that?" I ask.

"It's called 'The Moldau'--that's a river in Europe. It's by a Czech named
Smetana."

I wander around the kitchen and look out the window. The wind's still
howling, but not so hard. I remember the ocean, all gray and powerful,
spotted with whitecaps. I'd like to be out on it.

"You know what'd be fun?" I say out loud. "To be out in a boat on the
harbor today. If you didn't sink."

"We could take the Staten Island ferry," Mary says.

"Huh?" I hadn't even thought there was really any boat we could get on.
"Really? Where do you get it?"

"Down at Sixty-ninth Street and Fourth Avenue. It's quite a ways. I've
always gone there in a car. But maybe we could do it on bikes, if we don't
freeze."

"We won't freeze. But what about bikes?"

"You can use my brother's. He's away at college. Maybe I can find a
windbreaker of his, too."

She finds the things and we get ready and go into the living room, where
Nina is sitting readi