by Jan Freed
“Only if you’re trying to look even more stupid than us,” Sarina said, grinning. “Or, if you’re trying to work out your frustrations through exercise.” She pumped her arms as if uppercutting an invisible punching beg. “Just pretend Mr. Morgan is a half step ahead. Works for me, anyway.”
Tony laughed. “Not a bad idea. But a hard run is what usually works best for me. Y’all have fun, though. See ya around.”
“Every quarter mile would be my guess,” Sarina agreed.
He laughed again and took off with a little wave before Elaine could find the wits to say a word. She watched the muscles in his back ripple, the lean grace of his ground-eating lope, until he rounded the upcoming turn out of her direct line of vision.
“Now see, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Sarina asked mildly.
“Only because you were here.” Elaine tugged down her shorts legs, then resumed swinging her arms. “If it’d been just me, his teasing would have been even worse.”
“Probably so.”
Startled, Elaine cast a wounded glance at her friend.
Sarina’s expression was compassionate, but nononsense. “Elaine, you might as well tape a sign on your back that says, Kick Me. You expect to be made fun of. You expect to be a victim. As long as you feel like that, your expectations will probably come true.”
For the first time since she’d met Sarina, Elaine experienced a flash of hot anger toward the girl. “You make it sound as if I want to be hurt, as if I have a choice. Well, I don’t!”
“Sure, you do.”
Elaine’s breathing was getting ragged, again, but she didn’t give a damn. “You’ve seen Wendy in action. I haven’t done anything to her. I sure haven’t asked her to treat me like dirt. I don’t know why she does.”
“She treats you like dirt because you let her, Elaine. She’s a bully. Bullies trample over anyone who lets them. And yes, sometimes even over people who fight back. The difference is, when you fight back, you keep your self-respect. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”
The self-contempt in her voice penetrated Elaine’s aggrieved sense of betrayal. Had Sarina ever not fought back? Elaine couldn’t imagine such a thing.
After a brief pause laden with tension, Sarina continued. “But even kind people will treat us—meaning you, me, anyone—as we allow ourselves to be treated. Take just now with Tony, for example.”
Elaine stared silently ahead, her eyes stinging, the white lane stripes blurring into red clay. Sweat, she told herself angrily.
“Tony’s a nice guy. Cocky—but nice,” Sarina said. “Yet he was primed and ready to make fun of us. Who could resist? We do look stupid. But see, I admitted it and we laughed together. If I’d gotten all huffy, or acted hurt, I would’ve allowed him to make me a victim.”
Behind them, the rhythmic thudding of sneakers grew louder. Tony streaked by and lifted a hand in greeting. Then gave them a view of his broad glistening back, his low-riding gray sweatpants already dark at the waist, the fleece clinging to the alternating flex of steel buns.
Elaine sighed. “I can think of worse things than being his victim.” She met startled bluish purple eyes and realized what she’d said.
Sarina looked back at Tony, then snorted. “Good point.”
Elaine giggled.
Suddenly they were both laughing, one peal of hilarity leading to another. They laughed so hard they started weaving in their lanes and had to stop and lean against one another.
Holding on to her side, Sarina asked breathlessly, “Okay, I’m wiped out. Wanna go inside and call it a day?”
The approaching pound of feet pulled Elaine upright. She drew in a steadying breath. “No, let’s finish the two miles.”
“Really? I’m impressed.”
Tony whizzed past on their left, having claimed the inside lane.
“Yeah, I’m a regular greyhound,” Elaine said, grinning. “C’mon. First one to catch the rabbit wins.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE NEXT DAY Sarah slammed shut her locker, slipped on her jacket and backpack, then headed for the senior prom planning meeting. Three-thirty in the cafeteria. A committee of teens arguing about decorations, refreshments, music and the like. Oh joy. Donna owed her big time for this favor.
No, more like I owe her my firstfiorn child for everything she’s done for me.
Not that Sarah could deliver on that debt, either, she realized, dodging oncoming ,hall traffic with an ease that had eluded her six weeks ago.
After all, Mark was out of the equation. Or he would be, once she returned to Dallas and told him so. If she made it safely to the courthouse on trial day...
Sarah shook off her nagging fear. The point was, motherhood wasn’t in her future anytime soon. Maybe never. Funny, how much that thought hurt now.
Before witnessing John’s murder, she hadn’t wanted children. Hadn’t thought she would have the time to nurture a child properly, as a parent should. As her parents never had. She’d been rising up the corporate career ladder, and contemplating marriage to an equally ambitious man. There wouldn’t be room for another ego in the family. And Mark had agreed. Another reason he’d seemed the perfect compatible partner, the ideal 4-H prospect...
Okay, 3-H prospect.
Handsome, hardworking, heterosexual males were hard enough to find. She’d never known an honorable one, who wasn’t already married. Not until she’d met Jack, who epitomized the word. Who would make a wonderful father for some lucky child, a wonderful husband for some luckier woman.
Sheesh. Trust her to fall in love with the first single 4-H man she met—
Sarah stopped. Someone rammed into the back of her shoulder. She staggered to the right, braced her palm against cold metal. A boy’s violent cursing sounded muffled, as if from a great distance.
Dazed, she turned, fell back heavily against the wall of lockers and examined the wondrous emotion filling her heart and mind. Was it really love?
It was much more than admiration or liking or lust. She’d felt those things for other men, although far less strongly than now.
But she’d never felt this craving to have a man’s baby, to create a warm home, to surround herself and him and the precious combination of them with the proverbial white picket fence she’d once thought delusional. The difference was profound and elemental. It answered her question incontrovertibly.
She was in love with Jack Morgan.
Dear lord, now what?
Sarah had told Donna last night that kids were gossiping about Assistant Principal Kaiser and Mr. Morgan. Donna had wished the rumor was true. Her neighbor was tall, dark-haired and kept late hours. She’d speculated that he was the man who’d probably been spotted, since Jack had left her condo early as he’d said. Not that she hadn’t wanted him to stay.
Donna “loved” Jack, she’d confessed. But for some unfathomable reason Jack didn’t return her feelings. A heartbreaking situation, but one Sarah’s continued silence and lack of interference wouldn’t change. Donna had known Jack for years. In all that time, their relationship had remained platonic.
Now it was Sarah’s turn.
An exhilarating—and terrifying—decision. To tell Jack how she felt and leave the next step up to him. But at least then she wouldn’t let the situation bully her without putting up a fight. She wouldn’t wonder “what if” the rest of her life.
Awareness of her surroundings returned slowly. The hallway was almost deserted. Damn. She was late! Grabbing the straps of her backpack, she jogged toward the cafeteria.
All her recent walking paid off. She made it in record time. Pausing outside the main entrance, she tugged down her lavender crushed velvet dress, regained her breath, then pushed through the double doors.
The kids had shoved two long tables together in the middle of the cafeteria and now sat on both sides. Sarah did a quick head count. Seven girls, five boys. Ugh, there was Wendy, in between Jessica and Tony. The others she recognized, but didn’t know by name.
Donna stood at one end of the table holding a clipboard. She looked up and smiled as Sarah approached. “There you are. Glad you could make it. I was about to cross you off my volunteer list.”
I may be off your friend list soon, she thought, of fering Donna an apologetic grin.
“For those of you who don’t know her, this is Sarina Davis. I invited her to join our committee because her school in California has executed some fantastic prom themes in the past.”
And I happen to know how to organize gala society events blindfolded.
“Pull up a chair, Sarina. I was telling the committee that our top priority today is choosing a theme. Everything else sort of depends on that.”
Twelve pairs of eyes examined Sarah as she dragged a chair from a nearby table, then took off her backpack and jacket. In her career, she’d conducted client presentations, luncheon speeches and multimedia press conferences under watchful gazes. And she was convinced there was no appraisal more thorough, critical or nerve-racking than that of the average teenager.
When she was seated near the head of the table, Donna sat, too, and continued. “Okay, let’s start at this end—” she indicated the side opposite Sarah “—and go around. I’ll record all your suggestions. Then we’ll discuss the feasibility of executing each theme. Catherine, why don’t you begin? What would you like to put on the list?”
A plump freckle-faced blonde cast a furtive glance at Wendy, then shrugged. “Do I have to go first? Can you come back to me?”
Donna nodded understandingly. “Sure, no problem.” Her gaze moved to the next volunteer, a stocky black kid with tight cornrow braids in intricate patterns. A football jock, Sarah was pretty sure.
“Russ, how about you? Do you have an idea for our theme?”
He fiddled with the senior class ring on his finger. “Can I pass, too?”
“Now that would be a first,” Wendy muttered loudly, prompting a few snickers.
Donna glared a warning. “I’m quite prepared to ask anyone who doesn’t cooperate to leave.” She turned back to Russ, who was scowling. “It’s okay, Russ, this isn’t a test. Jump in later if you think of something.” Her wary gaze moved on. “Kevin?”
The lanky red-haired boy squirmed in his chair. His buzz cut was so short his head looked pink.
Donna smiled tightly. “Listen, somebody has to start the ball rolling. You can’t all pass on your chance to offer a suggestion.”
“Yeah, we’re brainstorming, here,” Jessica spoke up unexpectedly. “There are no dumb ideas. C’mon, Kevin, give us something to bounce around.”
Two days ago, Jessica would’ve probably passed on her turn as well. Sarah felt a warm surge of pride in Jack’s accomplishment.
‘“Suck-up,” Wendy grumbled, adding “Teacher’s pet,” in a singsong voice.
Jessica turned on the blonde. “You know, Wendy, I’m really sick of you trying to make everybody else feel stupid. Flunking three subjects doesn’t exactly make you class valedictorian. Quit being so callous and give it a rest, huh, Brainiac?”
Whoa! Sarah met Donna’s startled glance, then checked out Wendy. The girl looked as if she’d swallowed a porcupine whole. At least six people besides Sarah broke into a grin. She gave Jessica a mental high five.
Forearms on the table, Kevin leaned toward Donna. “Okay, here’s an idea. Since last year they did the nostalgia thing, with jukeboxes and a soda fountain and stuff, I was thinking maybe the opposite could be cool this year. You know, Welcome to Future World or something like that.”
“Good idea, Kevin! Let me get that down.” Donna scribbled madly on her clipboard pad, then looked expectantly at a slim dark-eyed brunette. “Heather?”
“Well...I learned how to scuba dive last summer? And the sea is so totally awesome! It’s like a different world when you’re underwater. And everybody loved The Little Mermaid movie—even if no dude will admit it.” Her arch look at the dudes present earned several sheepish grins. “Anyway, I think Enchantment Under the Sea, or whatever you want to call it, would be the Bomb.”
“Good, good,” Donna murmured while writing. “Okay, got that. Next?”
In general, the girls favored romantic themes, the guys action-adventure. Surprise, surprise. The Barbie and Ken suggestion from Wendy got the sneers and snide comments her “callousness” had reaped. Sarah was thankful the idea didn’t have a snowball’s chance in Houston of getting selected.
When Sarah’s turn finally came around, Donna smiled ruefully. “You’ve got your work cut out for you being last, Sarina. Is there anything that hasn’t been mentioned you’d like to add?”
Only one thing.
“Magic,” Sarah said. “Not as in, Enchantment Under the Sea. I mean the David Copperfield kind of magic. There’s a lot that can be done with that theme.” She should know. She’d done a lot with it for a fund-raising gala in Dallas. The museum client had been thrilled with the results.
They spent the next hour discussing the logistics of coordinating props, food and music with each theme. In the end, the fact that a magic act could be additional entertainment to the standard band swayed the majority vote in its favor.
The committee decided to convene weekly—same time, same place—until all the details were hammered out and subcommitees formed.
The meeting adjourned with everyone in high spirits. Everyone, that is, except Wendy. The queen had been knocked off her throne, and her butt was obviously stinging. Until she climbed back on, Sarah planned to keep out of the girl’s way. She put on her jacket and backpack, smiled at Donna—who was surrounded by three lingerers—and headed for the door.
“Sarina, wait,” Donna called. She spoke to the threesome, put down her clipboard and walked quickly to Sarah’s side. “Thanks for all your help today,” she said softly. “Can I drive you home?”
Home. A bittersweet pain lanced Sarah’s heart. Would she ever have the kind of home she now dreamed of?
“Come on,” Donna persisted. “No one will think anything of me giving you a lift after the meeting. I feel so guilty when you walk in this cold weather.”
Time alone with Donna these days meant time listening to her go on about Jack. Sarah couldn’t handle that now. “You know getting outside helps keep me from going nuts. I feel enough like a caged monkey as it is. And I didn’t get to walk the track. I need the exercise.”
Donna frowned, then sighed. “Will you at least agree to use Gram’s car on rainy days? It just sits in that garage collecting dust. You’re not going to get a ticket driving six blocks, not if you’re careful. And walking in the rain makes you stand out, which is exactly what we don’t want.”
They’d determined early on that Sarah’s riding with Donna to and from school regularly would create unnecessary speculation. Plus, walking helped her blend in with the flow of kids coming and going—on clear days.
“Okay,” Sarah relented. “Next time it rains I’ll take your grandmother’s land yacht to school. It’ll blend right in with the pickups and Mustangs and Jeeps,” she teased, referring to the big American luxury car Ms. Kaiser owned.
“Yeah, yeah.” Grinning, Donna gave Sarah’s shoulder a little push toward the door. “Go get your exercise, stubborn. I’ll call you tonight.”
“I’ll be home,” Sarah said dryly.
With a little wave, she shoved through the door into the wide corridor, then turned right. Their meeting had run long. She’d have to hoof it to get to the guest house before sunset.
Far ahead, and trailing the other committee members, Wendy and Tony strolled hand in hand. He slowed and leaned down for a kiss. She yanked away her hand and ran off, shrieking as Tony followed in hot pursuit. They turned left out of sight at the first hall intersection.
Sarah realized she’d stopped, more alone... and lonely, than before. A locker door slammed somewhere in the building. Two classrooms ahead, a vacuum cleaner whined from within. She began walking, picking up speed with each step. The doors she passed now were closed, their rectangular windows
dark.
Suddenly she needed to get out. To get some air. To get to her safe little cage fast before she cracked and either cried or screamed, or did a little of both. Loudly.
She hit the intersecting hallway at a near jog and veered sharply to the left—smack into a brick wall of a chest. Recoiling, she gasped. Bruce?
Sarah lifted her gaze. “Jack!”
The man she’d realized only hours ago she loved reached out and gripped her arms, his hands strong and warm. “Hey, hey, easy now. Did I hurt you?”
No, but you probably will. “I’m all right. I should’ve been paying attention. What are you doing here?” she asked stupidly. The man did teach here, after all.
“I was waiting for you to get out of the meeting. I have something to tell you.” Something major, from the sudden bruising squeeze of his hands, the barely contained excitement glittering in his hazel eyes.
She quelled an irrational flicker of dread. “O-okay. I’m listening.”
“I checked my mailbox in the teacher’s lounge one last time after school. There was a new message—” He broke off and cocked his head.
Voices. Approaching from the same route Sarah had taken.
“The rest of the committee’s coming,” she confirmed.
Casting a searching look around, he released her arms, grasped her hand and hauled her toward a nearby door marked Supplies. She didn’t realize the door was ajar until she stood—blinking and stunned—inside a brightly lit, very small storage closet. Jack pulled the door shut with a soft click.
“It locks automatically, but not from the inside,” he murmured, turning. Then he pressed a warning index finger to his mouth.
As if she could make a sound.
Although he faced her, his gaze was fixed on a shelf of bathroom supplies, his senses obviously focused on the hallway outside the door. While three exuberant teenagers passed by only feet away, she studied Jack through the eyes of a woman in love. How had she ever thought his features too stern and forbidding?
A palm’s width of dark hair brushed his forehead boyishly, the strands glossy and thick, begging to be smoothed back. His nose was large, yes, but straight and noble; his jaw was a bit square, granted, but authoritative and manly. Especially when shadowed with beard, like now. The blue-tinted skin would scrape the pads of her fingers if she dared to touch, to stroke, to feel.
