Bonnie Lawson was excited. A tall, handsome, muscular young teen-ager several years her senior, whom she had been hopelessly admiring, had asked her to come with him to a "rave." She didn't know exactly what that meant, but she knew it involved the popular crowd -- and more importantly, the handsome young man she was crazy about. All the girls were. Bonnie's mother at first forbade her to go, but she cried and pleaded unceasingly until her mom finally relented. Now Bonnie was trying her best to look beautiful -- and a few years older. She spent hours fixing her hair just right -- the way older girls wear it. Her mother frowned when she saw the lip gloss and mascara, but Bonnie won her way.
Bonnie stuffed handkerchiefs into her bra and put on a low-cut top and short shorts. Mom yelled and complained, but it did no good. She was weak. She couldn't bear to see her daughter's tears. She gave in to her beloved daughter.
She was so excited she even could ignore her little brother's rude comments. Her prince arrived late, but that didn't matter.
"Don't stay out too late," her mother said. It was more of a plea than a command.
"Sure Mom."
When they were out of hearing, Bonnie sighed. "Parents!" she said.
Bonnie's date was silent during the half-hour drive. They arrived at a large, modern house in a wealthy neighborhood. There were many cars out front. Bonnie's date got out first, then opened her door and made a low sweeping bow. "Madam..."
The house was full of loud music and teen-agers. The girls all stopped to stare at Bonnie, making her feel out of place. "Just ignore them," her date said. He shoved a drink in Bonnie's hand. She hesitated, then drank when she saw his face on hers. They danced. He drank, then gave Bonnie another. She was feeling bad, but took it. Her date handed her a pill, ignoring her questioning glance. "Take this," he said. "It's great!"
Bonnie took the pill. At once she started feeling better -- light, airy. "This is -- wonderful!" she exclaimed. She was floating, swirling; she never wanted this to end. She saw multicolored lights, strange visions. Suddenly she began to feel dizzy, faint. Perspiration popped out on her brow. She collapsed into the arms of her young man, who lowered her to the floor. He and his friends jerked off her clothes, while the young women watched, amused. After they were through, one of them noticed -- "Hey, she's not moving -- she's not even breathing!"
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Screwtape read the latest reports with some satisfaction. Project Sugarloaf was making strides.
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