His face turned back in her direction, that adorable goofy grin back on it, but she could tell his ears were still turned toward the radio. Other than the starlight, its dial was the only thing casting light over the porch: pale orange, spreading out like firelight. It was actually rather romantic, if only he would realize that.
"Sorry," he said. "It's just... it's some kind of astronomy report. Which is kind of a hobby for me. Have you ever looked through a telescope? Like, a really good one?"
She bit her lip and shook her head no, trying to embody the word "coquettish", which she only dimly understood from Mother's French romances, sometimes left lying around where Donna could sneak glances at the dogeared pages.
"Oh, you oughta sometime. I've seen the rings around Saturn, the moons of Jupiter..."
Donna sighed. The radio had been playing nice dance music for a while; why did they keep interrupting it with news reports? "Look, Jimmy," she said, shifting toward him, causing the porch swing to rock a little, "we don't have long to sit here, you know, alone. My dad's going to get tired of trying to listen to Edgar Bergen on the little set inside, and then he's going to want to come listen on this one. Mother said she can keep him distracted in there for a while, but he's going to storm out the front door soon. Now, isn't there anything you'd like to talk to me about before he does that?" Which, in Donna's mind was equally as brazen as asking, "Am I going to get kissed tonight or what?"
That seemed to bring the focus back into Jimmy's eyes. While the sounds of an orchestra playing "Stardust" drifted out of the speaker, he turned fully toward her. He had been trying to keep the swing still and quiet so he could hear what the newsmen were saying, but now he picked up his feet and let it sway. Donna felt the movement, a subtle pull, deep in her stomach.
Jimmy seemed to be reaching for something to say. "Why did your Pa bring the radio out on the porch anyway? Mine has his next to his chair and guards it with his life."
Finally, he was making an attempt at conversation. That was progress, anyway. "Well," Donna began, "he brought it out here back at the beginning of summer so he and his buddies could listen to Joe Louis knock out 'some Kraut' at Yankee Stadium -- that's what Father said. But after that, the evening news started getting filled with stories about that Hitler guy, who I suppose wants to take over all of Europe. Mother found it all too upsetting, and didn't want to listen to it herself, so she talked him into keeping it out here for a while. They listen on the little set inside most nights. She says that one's easier to ignore."
"Uh-huh," he said. He was only half-listening again, wasn't he? What was she going to have to do to get him to pay attention, flick up her skirt and flash her legs? The newsmen were back again, and she thought she heard someone mention Grover's Mill, which actually wasn't all that far away. Clearly, this competition for Jimmy's mental attention was "escalating" -- another term she heard used a lot on Father's news programs.
She shifted the slightest bit closer to the boy next to her, making the swing sway a little more. "I know you've got quite a walk home, Jimmy," she said, "and can't stay too long. But I'm really glad you did. How long will it take you, you reckon?" She hoped this sounded like a reminder of how short their time was as well as a vague threat.
He considered this a little longer than she thought he should have to. "Half hour or so. Your house is almost exactly halfway between my house and church. But it's okay. Long walks don't bother me none, even at night."
Finally, something that made her smile. She knew he didn't appreciate how hard it had been for her to get him here, alone on the porch with her. Father said that people who lived as far out from town as Jimmy's folks did were all "low-class", but Mother understood. She had been the one who had talked both Father and Jimmy's parents into letting him stop by for a little while after church. She had even volunteered to drive Jimmy the rest of the way home, knowing full well the courtesy would be refused. But it was okay. Walking two miles home in the dark was just the right amount of trouble for himto go to, if he really liked Donna the way she thought she liked him.
She reached up and put a hand on his cheek, rubbing her palm across the light down that was just starting to turn into stubble. "You know, I was looking at your hair all through evening service tonight."
"My... my hair?" he asked, a little stupefied that she was touching him.
"Mm-hm," she said, marveling at the way its white-straw color seemed to emanate its own faint light in the darkness. "I like the way you cut it. It really suits you... My family always sits a few pews behind yours, and I was actually imagining what it would be like to... run my fingers through it." Her fingers slid under his ear and around toward the back of his head, moving from the close crop on the sides and back, up toward the longer, floppier part on top...
She felt his body stiffen, but realized it was not because of her hand; the music had fallen away again. Now the news guys were in some field where a meteorite had crashed down. And just like that, she had lost him again. Without removing her fingers from the softness of his hair, she began to half-jokingly scold, "You know, Jimmy, it's one thing to have a hobby--"
The look of concern that was spreading across his face made her stop. Even though the light on the porch was dim, she was sure that she could see his skin turning pale. The voices in the news report had faded away, and a strange grinding noise had taken its place.
Jimmy whispered two words, and their sincerity and heaviness made Donna's blood run cold. "They're here."
For the first time, Donna took a moment to listen to what the men on the radio were saying. They weren't looking at a meteorite, they claimed, but some kind of metal cylinder. As they took turns describing what was happening, she caught something familiar in one of their voices.
There were men down in the pit that the thing had gouged into the ground when it fell, and one of them had a microphone that he was using to listen to the hissing, scraping sound of the thing. One of them said it might be because the thing was cooling off after its burning plunge from the sky. Why did his voice sound so familiar? Was he some local newsman, who she had maybe heard hundreds of times on Father's news shows without realizing it?
There was a loud thunk from the radio speaker. Someone yelped that an end had fallen off the metal cylinder, and that it was hollow inside. She realized that the porch swing had slowed to a stop, because she and Jimmy were sitting frozen still, holding hands. Just as Donna's brain was wondering how she had missed that happening, her body was registering it too, a warm flush that was creeping up her neck to her face. This was followed by a very different, plummeting feeling in her stomach as the man on the radio described what was coming out -- no, not just that, it was *crawling* out -- of the hollow thing in the pit. His words were fast and breathless, describing its rubbery appearance, some kind of heavy, tentacled brown horror...
Jimmy suddenly jammed his feet down on the porch's boards and bolted to his feet. His fingers remained entwined with Donna's, jerking her forward a little bit. "It's them!" he whisper-shouted. "They've finally come!"
The harsh sound of his voice, so astonishingly present, brought Donna out of her radio trance. She was suddenly back on the porch with him, and perilously close to losing what should have been the romantic high point of her life so far. She stood up next to him, so the tangle of their fingers could mesh properly. "Who, Jimmy?" she asked, wanting to hear that passionate tone of voice again, even if he wasn't talking about her.
"The Martians!" he said. "They shot these things out of some kind of space gun on their planet, and now they're landing all over the place!"
A sudden, piercing whine came from the radio, followed by a sound Donna had never heard in real life before... men screaming in terror, and then in pain as whatever ray the Martians were using set them all on fire. She suddenly felt lightheaded, and started to wobble on her feet. Even after the broadcast was abruptly cut off, she felt like that rising heat Jimmy had stirred in her was zipping up her spine and over the top of her head, making her muscles lose all their strength. She was slumping against Jimmy's skinny form...
And then she found herself wondering when they had started dancing. There was music playing again, and Jimmy's arms were around her, and she was leaning against him. When had that happened? Then, after a blissful second, her body went to ice and she remembered what was happening. She tilted her head back, and looked up into Jimmy's face. He was looking down at her with concern, as well as a new resolve she had never seen before.
In that moment, he suddenly wasn't just the gawky boy she had a crush on anymore. She felt she was glimpsing the man he would become, someone strong and decisive, someone who would be able to "protect her". Sometimes Mother would describe Father in this way, and told Donna that this was a quality she should look for.
"Are you all right?" Jimmy asked her, and Donna couldn't keep a comforted smile from spreading across her face.
The man on the radio was talking again. One of them, at least, had escaped the decimating fire, and was being interviewed about this new, horrific weapon the Martians were using on people less than twenty miles away.
Then, without warning, the timbre of the speaker's voice dropped into place. She knew exactly who it was. It was The Shadow. The one Father sometimes listened to on his police shows, the one who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men.
"Jimmy..." she said, trying to get her feet back under herself.
Jimmy continued to hold her tightly, and stroked her shoulder in a way he probably thought was reassuring. "It's okay," he was telling her. "We'll fight them. They're going be sorry they messed with us."
"I know who it is," she said. She was trying to straighten up fully, but he wasn't giving her balance back to her. "He's an *actor*. I don't think this is--"
"Listen!" Jimmy hissed through gritted teeth. More breathless reports were flowing from the radio, now describing other falling meteors, and the giant mechanical tripods that came from within them. The Martians were using these to march across the land in huge strides, destroying power lines and returning fire on the Army, which had apparently arrived in record time. For almost two full minutes, Donna allowed herself to be held fast in Jimmy's arms, and the more she listened, the funnier it became.
What made it worse was that she could tell Jimmy believed every bit of it. She could feel his hands tightening on her as the radio play became more and more harrowing. She didn't know why she wasn't prying herself away from him -- was it because this was almost exactly the scenario she had hoped to be in this evening, just without the alien invasion?
She could feel the muscles of Jimmy's chest tighten, hear his jaw creak as his teeth gritted in resolve. "I'm going to get my father's gun," he said, low and meaningful, and Donna had to fight to stifle a giggle. "Then I'll come back, and we'll barricade your house... in case they decide to come this way." He sounded like he was ready to run off to war.
She gathered her composure, and then breathed, trying to sound as small as possible, "But what about your own house? Don't your parents need you?"
Jimmy's eyes turned up, scanned the horizon intently. "My brothers are there. They'll do what they have to. But tonight, your family needs me more."
Donna was biting the insides of her cheeks so hard that she thought she was beginning to taste blood. Part of her kept expecting Jimmy to break up and reveal that he was in on the joke, but the longer she looked up at him, the more she became that it wasn't going to happen. Her amusement began to slide into concern.
"I've got to go, Donna," Jimmy said -- was he intentionally trying to sound like some movie serial hero? "But I'll return with protection for you and your family. We'll make our stand here... when the Martians come."
Then she was pressing her hands against his chest, feeling how hard his heart was beating under her palms. It hurt a bit to know that it wasn't acting that way because of her, but it wasn't all that bad either.
As sonic Armageddon continued to play out in the air around them, the couple turned away from the house, facing the rough farmland on the other side of Donna's street. They had been outside for long enough now that the moonless night's stars seemed particularly numerous, and she could even see their shadows dimly fanning out across the entire length of the lawn, cast by the radio set's light.
The sound of artillery reverberated around them, and Donna suddenly knew what she wanted. She allowed herself to believe that they really were in the middle of an attack, that the world as they knew it was about to end. The adrenaline of coming battle thundered through her, and the beat of Jimmy's heart was matching hers, hot and fast.
"Jimmy," she said, and had to physically take his chin in her hand and turn it toward her, away from the fearful sounds of battle. There was an intensity in his eyes that she had never seen before. "I think you're one of the bravest men I've ever met. I want you to go now, do what you have to do. Then come back to me. Please don't let them hurt my family. I'll be waiting here for you."
She was gazing deeply into his eyes, and he into hers, his face huge, so unbearably close. They were coming together amid the crash and boom of the huge guns... Their lips touched, pressed tightly, and Donna felt her knees wobble again as that internal heat set her entirely alight. For a moment she was acutely aware of everything around her, the light breeze that wafted the scent of imaginary Martian smoke, the firmness/softness of Jimmy's lips, the warmth of the orange-yellow radio light washing over them. It was perfect.
After a timeless moment, Donna pushed her hands against his chest, breaking off their kiss, long before she wanted it to be over. "Now go," she said, summoning all the drama she could. "Then hurry back, and save me."
Jimmy's features hardened in resolve, his pale cheeks flushed, and he broke off from her at a dead run. His church shoes slammed down on the boards, then launched him down to the ground without touching a single porch step. He thumped away at full speed.
Donna watched him go, the air around her suddenly feeling colder. By the time he got home, she figured, the truth would be revealed. He'd probably get swatted by the his older brothers for falling for such an obvious trick so close to Halloween. Oh, well. Her lips still burned from his kiss, and she licked them to attempt to preserve his heat, to keep the memory fresh for as long as she could.
A long pause came from the radio behind her, as poison gas finally engulfed New York and the gunners succumbed. Then a voice: "You are listening to a CBS presentation of Orson Welles and the Mercury Theatre of the Air, in an original dramatization of 'The War of the Worlds' by H. G. Wells. The performance will continue after a brief intermission."
Donna switched the set off and wandered inside, a big grin on her face.
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