The Wallflower

by Jan Freed

Jessica’s sudden alert expression caught Jack’s at tention. “What is it, Jessica?” he asked. “Did you want to share something with the class?” Anything. Please. I’m dying up here.

  “Well...” Jessica twirled that same lock of hair, this time in agitation.

  “We’re brainstorming. Nothing’s a dumb idea,” he assured her. “I mentioned identifying with a character through personal experience. Did that happen to you?”

  She nodded, her finger still rotating. “My dad, like, lost his job last year? He’s working, now,” she added hastily. “But when I was reading the book, about how, like, Tom Joad and all the others tried to find a good job and couldn’t? And like, how much their pride was hurt? I thought of, you know, my dad. But, I don’t think I could write about that.”

  Jack suspected she was worried about embarrassing her father. “How about exploring, the differences in the way the Joads looked for work during The Great Depression, as compared with how your dad eventually found a job? I imagine he didn’t sit around waiting for one to fall in his lap, did he?”

  “No-o. He mailed out resumés, used the Internet—lots of stuff.” Her frown cleared. She slipped her finger out of a long corkscrew curl. “Yeah, I could ask him about that. Hey, this could be kinda cool.”

  Rich satisfaction fueled Jack’s grin. “Yeah, it could be. Sounds like you’ve got your topic.” He looked around with renewed hope. “Anyone else have a question or idea?”

  Several hands went up at once.

  It was one of those times in a teacher’s life that make up for all the useless administrative meetings, the endless hours of filling out reports and grading papers, the frustration of battling student apathy or downright insolence. Once kicked open, the door to these kids’ imaginations released a stimulating variety of ideas.

  Not everyone vocalized his or her thoughts. Most notably, Sarah, who remained unresponsive. But he knew instinctively that he’d engaged his other students’ interest in a way the original theme paper assignment never would have accomplished.

  Invigorated, Jack was shocked to check the clock and see only five minutes remained until the bell. “All right, class. Don’t let time get away from you on this project. You’ll need every bit of the next two weeks to get me your first draft. I’ll help with the composition, but content better be there. Understand?”

  Unlike at the beginning of class, the grumbles now were good-natured in tone. When Tony’s hand popped up, Jack smiled and nodded permission to speak.

  “I wanted to remind you I’ll be out three days next week, Mr. Morgan,” Tony said, his dark gaze uneasy.

  Jack’s smile vanished. He remembered. Tony was visiting several college campuses intent on wooing him to play for their team. Jack hadn’t liked agreeing to excuse the star quarterback’s absence, but a full scholarship was an opportunity not to be passed up.

  “What’s your point, Tony?” Jack asked.

  “Well, this new assignment will take a lot more time than the old one would’ve. I’ve got two other big projects to turn in the week I leave...”

  Jack hardened his heart. This kid would have assignments in college that interfered with his football demands, too. “Then you’d better get started right away on this one, huh? I’ll expect your first draft on my desk by the end of school next Tuesday.”

  “But—” Tony darted red-faced glances at his classmates then looked entreatingly at Jack. “Can I talk to you after class—?”

  “There’s nothing to discuss, Tony. Knowing how to throw a football doesn’t give you special privileges in my class. The due date is next Friday. If you can’t deliver, you’ll accept the consequences.”

  The shrill bell signaled a discordant ending to an otherwise harmonious class session. Tony sprang up, hoisted his backpack in an angry motion, then stalked out into the hall ahead of his classmates.

  Disturbed and guilty, second-guessing his tried and true methods again, Jack searched among the exiting students for Sarah.

  Trailing at the end of the line, she met his gaze. If looks could do bodily harm, he’d be mortally wounded. Or maimed, at the very least.

  Bracing himself for battle, he waited until she passed nearby. “Sarina, could I talk to you a minute?”

  She stopped, her chin going up. “I’ll be late to my next class.”

  “I’ll write you a note.” The next hour was his plan period. No students would be rushing in before the next bell. “Please. I won’t keep you long.”

  Obviously reluctant, she nodded and crossed her arms, the action swelling her hot pink ribbed-knit shirt.

  He’d seen larger breasts in his classes, but knowing these were twenty-seven years old made a huge moral difference. And knowing they were Sarah’s made them impossible to ignore.

  “I’m up here, Jack,” she said in a hard angry voice.

  He hadn’t blushed so hard since his mother had caught him flipping through Playboy when he was ten. His gaze lifted.

  Her eyes matched her voice. “Tony’s the one you should be talking to now. Why wouldn’t you have the courtesy to meet with him after class?”

  Struggling for composure, Jack slid off the edge of his desk, grabbing even so small an advantage as height with shameless gratitude. “Because he would’ve been wasting both our time. Sarah, if somebody at WorldWide Public Relations missed an important deadline—say, forgot to confirm a TV talk show appearan—the client wouldn’t care why he got replaced on the show—only that he got screwed. Tony’s been coasting on charm, good looks and athletic ability his entire high school career. I make him work for what he gets.”

  “You don’t think he’s worked for that scholarship? You don’t think he’s spent hours and hours of grueling practice on the field, not to mention study time learning the play book? This trip next week is what he’s been working for, Jack. His dream. You, of all people, should understand that. Maybe bend the rules a little this one time.” She let out a long aggrieved breath.

  A fist of outrage squeezed his chest. “What happens if Tony doesn’t make the pros and has to earn a living like mortal men? He’ll have to manage multiple responsibilities. No excuses. No fun. No bending of the rules to bail him out of his obligations.”

  Jack endured a probing look that seemed to reach and study his very soul.

  Sarah lowered her arms, comprehension dawning in her gaze. “My God, you’re jealousy.”

  Jack flinched. “What?”

  “You are. You’re jealous. Of a kid who’s about to fulfill his dream right out of high school. Like you never had the chance to do. You’re jealous of all these kids, for having the carefree youth, the fun you should’ve had, but were robbed of enjoying.” She ran polished hot pink fingernails through clashing red hair, then spoke as if to herself. “That’s what Morgan’s Ten Commandments is all about. That’s where this obsession you have with responsibility is coming from.”

  Jack managed a strangled laugh. “Right. I don’t want them to be prepared for the real world when they graduate. Everything I do is based on a petty grudge. Thanks for the free analysis, Doc.” He regrouped to launch a counterattack. “As long as you’re at it, what’s your theory on why you clammed up in class today?”

  She couldn’t hide her consternation quite fast enough. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He charged ahead. “Sure you do. Usually I can’t shut you up. But today, when I could’ve really used some blocking protection, you played dumb and let me get sacked on my ass. What was that all about, hmm?”

  Shrugging, she appeared fascinated with the wall clock. “I was having a bad day. I didn’t feel like talking.”

  Her pale cheeks reminded him of how she’d first looked in class—subdued and shaken. Jack’s offensive direction shifted. “Sarah, did you see something recently that scared you?” A sudden thought lowered his brows. “Has someone been nosing around Donna asking questions again?”

  “The only one sniffing around Donna these days is you,” Sarah snapped, sarcasm dripping in her
voice, hurt shimmering in her eyes. She hitched up her backpack straps and headed for the door.

  Hurt shimmered in her eyes?

  Jack caught up in two strides, passed her in three and turned to block her path. The bell rang shrilly, jangling nerves that had gone into full alert mode.

  Sarah tried to move around him. They danced awkwardly a few eternal seconds.

  At last she stopped, growled in frustration and flung back her head. “Move out of my way,” she ordered, her voice loud enough to be heard from the hallway.

  Anyone passing by could come through the open door to investigate. This sure as hell wouldn’t look good, considering his reputation. He should let her leave and maybe call her at the guest house later.

  “What did you mean, I’m the only one sniffing around Donna?” he asked, catching a whiff of peaches that made Donna’s favored perfume seem cloying and heavy.

  “Oh, puh-leeze.” Violet eyes rolled. Color bloomed high on pale cheeks. “Let’s not have this conversation. Donna deserves better.”

  His tense muscles grew tighter. “What has Donna told you about our relationship, Sarah?” It was suddenly important—no, imperative that he know.

  “Nothing. That’s between you two. We don’t discuss y’all’s love life.”

  “Love life?” He jammed his hands in his pockets so they wouldn’t reach out and shake her silly. “There is no love life to discuss. We date casually. I’ve been up-front with her from the beginning about not wanting a more serious relationship. If she’s told you anything different, then she’s lying.”

  Confusion clouded those lovely dark-lashed eyes. “But...” Sarah’s cheeks matched her hot pink sweater.

  “But what, dammit! What do you think you know?”

  “The sister of a girl who goes to school here said she saw a tall dark-haired man leaving Donna’s condominium on Saturday. Sunday, actually, around 3:00 a.m. Rumor says it was you.”

  “Rumor says.” Disillusionment cooled his temper and chilled his voice. “And you believed hearsay?”

  Her guilty expression said she had.

  “I took Donna to a movie on Saturday, then had a cup of coffee and a fat-free donut inside her condo. I left around eleven-thirty. Any man this sister of a student saw later sure as hell wasn’t me.” He eyed Sarah closely. “You do believe me, don’t you?”

  “Donna’s a beautiful woman,” Sarah sidestepped his question. “You’re telling me that after all this time, you’re satisfied with a fat-free donut at the end of your dates?”

  No, goddamn it. But the only woman who can satisfy the hunger I’ve got is you.

  He’d already explained the innocent nature of his relationship with Donna. He lowered his hands and walked slowly to his desk. Where was that pad? Ah, here. Now where was his goddamn pen hiding? He’d left the thing—ah, there it was.

  Snatching the Bic from under his calendar, he scribbled a quick note, ripped off the top sheet and turned, nearly whacking Sarah in the nose. When had she moved up?

  She stepped back marginally, her gaze urgent. “Jack, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I don’t believe the rumor, not if you say you’re not slee—not serious about Donna. I guess after I saw you kiss her that time, I naturally—”

  “Who, whoa, whoa.” Jack narrowed his eyes. “What time?”

  Her gaze filled with horrified dismay.

  How very interesting. “Sarah, when did you ever see me kiss Donna?”

  Shaking her head, she backed away.

  He followed. “When, Sarah?”

  Her rear hit a desktop and she stopped, her eyes huge.

  A step away, he mentally reviewed his dates with Donna. There was only one opportunity Sarah could have seen them. “In Mrs. Kaiser’s driveway,” Jack murmured. “You were watching us from somewhere behind the gate,” he said incredulously, an impossible hope igniting deep within him.

  Her chin came up, pugnacious and adorable. “I was taking a walk. You happened to come home as I reached the gate. I didn’t want to embarrass us all, so I...”

  “Hid and spied on us,” he finished for her. The flickering hope inside him steadied into a low flame. “Now, why would you do that, Sarah?”

  “I told you. I didn’t want to—”

  “Embarrass us, right.” It was all he could do to keep from dropping tiny kisses over the bright pink face clashing with her hair. “So, you saw me kiss Donna and assumed I was sleeping with her. That’s quite a leap in logic, don’t you think?”

  “It was the way you kissed her, Jack! Don’t play dumb with me. What was I supposed to think after you tried to remove her tonsils with your tongue?” She looked like a spitting orange tabby cat, mad enough to scratch out his eyes.

  And he wanted to try to remove her tonsils with his tongue so badly he couldn’t see straight. “You’re jealous,” he stated, grinning.

  She paled. “In your dreams, buddy.”

  Every night, sweetheart. “You are, you’re jealous!” He laughed, his heart pumping hot and wild.

  Her hand arced out and raked the note from his fingers. Glaring, she gave his chest a great shove, then scampered for the door.

  Jack watched her enter the hallway and veer out of sight, his big goofy smile still going strong.

  She didn’t like him dating or kissing Donna. Didn’t like it at all. He didn’t know exactly what he’d do with the information, only that he’d definitely do something. And that the interesting new possibilities wouldn’t fill his dreams at night. Uh-uh. No. Not this time.

  To dream, first he’d have to fall asleep. There wasn’t a chance in hell of that happening tonight.

  HER ARMS PUMPING, her stride forceful, Elaine felt her stiff muscles begin to warm and loosen up. In an hour, track team practice would start. A good incentive to push herself faster.

  The February day was balmy enough for her gym shorts and T-shirt. Another few minutes in this heat and she’d be sweating buckets. Yet an overnight cold front was expected to drop temperatures below freezing. People in Houston always told visitors, “If you don’t like the weather, stick around five minutes and it’ll change.”

  Rounding the first turn, Elaine glanced down at the tousled red-orange hair bobbing beside her on the track. “So, what did Mr. Morgan want to see you about after class today?” she asked breathily.

  She didn’t wheeze like a cow in labor any more, but she was a long way from being in peak condition. Four steps later she realized her friend hadn’t answered.

  “Sarina, what’s wrong? Did you get in trouble with Mr. Morgan?”

  “Trouble?” Sarina’s brief laugh sounded a little wild. “Nah, he wanted to know why I was so quiet during the class discussion, is all. Can you believe it? He didn’t ask you that, and you hardly said a word. But I don’t tell him how great his new assignment is, and something must be wrong with me. I don’t answer you just now, and something must be wrong with me.” She slanted up an indignant glare. “Do I talk that much usually?”

  Elaine concentrated on the goalpost to her left until her urge to smile passed. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘that much.’ You usually have an opinion, which is good. Class is tons more fun since you transferred here,” she said sincerely. “I think it’s sweet that Mr. Morgan was worried about you.”

  “Sweet?” Sarina accelerated from power walk to a near jog.

  Elaine watched ruefully as the petite girl surged ahead. Her own top speed—which had increased considerably in a month—was still holding Sarina back. Yet she never complained or seemed disgusted. She never acted superior or treated Elaine like a charity case in need of guidance.

  Elaine was the one who’d asked a million questions in the past month. About the seminar that had forced Sarina to focus on her good traits instead of her flaws. About the difference that made in how she’d treated herself. Elaine had asked for specifics, and only then had Sarina proven to be a walking encyclopedia of information on how to look and feel better.

  In all f
airness, Elaine’s parents had told her a lot of the same stuff for years. Only they acted as if they would love her more if she followed their advice. Whereas this way cool girl from California seemed to like her exactly as she was right now. Weird, how that made Sarina’s help so much easier to take.

  A movement up ahead near the huge tan brick gym building caught her eye. The locker room door had opened, and a boy in sweatpants and no shirt came out to begin a series of leg stretches. Tony Baldovino! She’d know him anywhere.

  Sarina immediately slowed and fell back into step beside Elaine. “Okay, don’t panic. This is no big deal. We’re gonna do the eight laps like we said, right?”

  Sarina had suggested they bump up the distance they walked from one and a half miles to two, starting today. Elaine had been kind of excited about the challenge.

  Until now.

  “I should’ve worn sweatpants,” she said miserably, tugging down the shorts legs creeping up her thighs.

  “Tony’s no different from the other athletes we see out here. He’s only interested in his own workout. He’ll barely notice us.”

  Maybe. But Elaine didn’t have a crush on the track team guys who showed up early for practice.

  Tony finished stretching and jogged slowly to the track. Catching sight of them, he broke into the white crooked grin that always speeded up Elaine’s pulse, which was bad enough when she was sitting still. Right now, her heart was cracking a few ribs and pounding the air from her lungs.

  She started wheezing, louder than any cow in labor. Could a whale wheeze underwater? That’s what she felt like. A big blubbery whale.

  “Elaine, look at me,” Sarina ordered. “That’s right. Now breathe with me. In—” she drew a slow deep breath, her gaze never leaving Elaine’s “—now out. In...now out.”

  Elaine mimicked her friend’s breathing pattern, and that awful I’m-gonna-pass-out feeling went away. The sound of thudding feet behind them widened her eyes. Her breathing faltered.

  “Don’t you dare,” Sarina warned darkly. “In... out. In...out.”

  Tony moved up beside Sarina and matched their pace, his hands fisted, his arms swinging in an exaggerated parody of theirs. “Hi, girls. Am I doin’ this right?”