"It's the anniversary."
"They gunned down a dozen students."
"The National Fuckin' Guard."
"Killed them!"
"But that was years ago," Kinsman said. "In Ohio."
They all glared at him as if they were blaming him for it.
"We're gonna show those friggin' bastards," said an intense, waspish little guy sitting a few chairs down from Kinsman. He tried to remember his name. Eddie? The guy was frail-looking, but his face was set in a smoldering angry cast, tight-lipped. The big glasses he wore made his eyes look huge and fierce.
"Right on," said the group's one black member. "They can't cancel our parade."
"Not after they gave their word it was okay."
"We'll tear the fuckin' campus apart tomorrow!"
"How's that going to help things?" Kinsman heard his own voice asking.
"How's it gonna helpT'
"I mean," Kinsman went on, wanting to bounce some of their hostility back at them, "what are you trying to accom- plish? So you tear up the campus, big deal. What good does that do—except convince everybody that you're a bunch of loonies."
"You don't make any sense," Eddie snapped. "Neither do you."
"But you don't understand," said Diane. "We've got to do something. We can't just let them withdraw permission to hold our parade without making some kind of response."
"I'd appeal to the Governor. Or one of my senators. Go where the clout is."
They all laughed at that. All but Eddie, who looked angrier still.
"You don't understand anything at all about how the political process works, do you?" Eddie sneered.
Kinsman smiled. Now I've got you! He responded with deliberate tempo, "Well ... an uncle of mine is a U.S. Senator. My grandfather was Governor of the Common- wealth of Pennsylvania. Several other family members are in public service. I've been involved in political campaigning since I was old enough to hold a poster."
Silence. As if a leper had entered their midst.
