by Nancy Krulik
“That sounds beautiful,” Alana said. “I’d love to see it.”
Connor grinned mischievously. “You want to come up to my place and look at my pictures?” he teased.
Alana blushed slightly, but she felt far less self-conscious around Connor than she had back at the apartment. In the past hour he’d become less of a modern day, New York version of a Greek god and more of a person. An incredibly good-looking person, for sure, but a person just the same. “Maybe another time,” she replied finally.
“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Connor told her.
“No, seriously,” Alana said. “I really want to see your work some time.”
“But that’s all you’re interested in, huh?” Connor asked more seriously.
Alana kicked at the dirt below her feet. “Connor, I told you. I have…”
“I know, you have a boyfriend,” Connor said. “I hope he knows how lucky he is.”
Alana smiled. “I think he does.” At least I hope he does, she thought silently, recalling that Sammy still hadn’t called her this week. Of course, he was busy. Columbia had to be really tough. Much tougher than high school. He was probably studying right this second while she was out here relaxing with the dogs in the park. Make that with the dogs and Connor. A fresh wave of guilt washed over her.
“So are you and Sammy getting together this weekend?” Connor asked in a voice that was clearly meant to sound nonchalant, but didn’t.
“Yeah, we’re supposed to…” She sat up excitedly. “Ooh! You should come!”
“On a date with you and Sammy? I don’t think so.”
“No. It’s totally not a date. It’s just a whole bunch of us getting together at Pomodoro Pizza on Saturday night,” Alana assured him.
“That huge pizzeria in the village?” Connor asked. “It’s right near my apartment.”
“Oh, wow. You live in the coolest neighborhood,” Alana said enviously. “Anyway, it’s going to be a huge group of people. You’d really like them.”
“Even Sammy?” Connor asked, only half teasing.
“Oh, you’ll like him. Everyone does,” Alana said. “He’s just like you and me. Really mellow and laid-back. And he cares about the same sort of things we do, like animals and the arts and kids’ rights. He’s a major humanitarian.”
Connor nodded slowly, but he didn’t say a word.
“And I can’t wait for you to meet my best friend, Stella,” Alana continued. “She’s gorgeous. And really smart.”
Connor eyed her curiously. “This wouldn’t be a setup, would it?”
“No. Honest,” Alana said, although she was obviously being less than truthful, and they both knew it. But from Alana’s point of view, having Connor hook up with Stella would be awesome. Ever since Stella had split up with Frank Lorimer back in the beginning of junior year, she’d been totally single. No one had really interested her. And she’d gotten into a real man-hating sort of phase. But there was no way Stella wouldn’t find a guy like Connor intriguing. There was no way anyone wouldn’t.
“What time are you going to be there?” Connor asked.
“Around eight. I need time to wash up and stuff after I work at the carnival.”
“I’ll try to drop by,” Connor said.
“That’d be so great,” Alana told him sincerely. She glanced down at her watch and leaped to her feet. “Oh man, we’d better get going. I have to get Frisky to a pedicure appointment.”
Connor started laughing. “Only in New York,” he declared.
“Exactly,” Alana agreed as she began to lead the dogs out of the Ramble toward Central Park West. As she walked, a smile of satisfaction flashed across her face. She was really happy Connor would be coming to Pomodoro Pizza on Saturday. He was so incredibly perfect…for Stella, that is.
Six
“I’m telling you, Stella, you’re going to love Connor,” Alana promised her best friend as the girls climbed the stairs of the subway stop at Astor Place in the East Village on Saturday night. “He’s really nice, and smart. And he’s gorgeous.”
Stella giggled. “Yeah, you mentioned that,” she said. “A few times. In fact, all you’ve been talking about today is this guy.”
“That’s because he’s so amazing,” Alana replied.
Stella looked at her dubiously. “I hate fix-ups,” she groaned.
“You don’t have to marry the guy. Just give him a chance.” Alana paused for a second. “It’s been a long time, Stella.”
“Yeah, well, I’m gonna be pickier from now on,” Stella explained. “I was burned pretty badly last year. I’m not going through that again.”
“I can’t imagine Connor burning anyone,” Alana assured her. “He’s too nice. And he’s very honest. Not at all like Frank.”
Stella bristled slightly at the very mention of her ex’s name. “I don’t know, ’Lan. According to you, this Connor guy is gorgeous, honest, nice, artistic, athletic…nobody can be that perfect.”
“Oh, he is. Connor is perfect….” Alana insisted. “For you,” she added quickly. Maybe too quickly.
“Uh-huh,” Stella replied suspiciously. “Speaking of men, what time is College Boy showing up tonight?”
Alana shot Stella a glance. “Could you try to be nice to him tonight?” she pleaded. “He’s been under a lot of pressure. He hasn’t even been able to get the time to call me. I didn’t talk to him all week. I finally reached him this morning before he went to the Columbia-Dartmouth game. He said he was at his desk—he had fallen asleep while he was studying.”
“I’m always nice,” Stella assured Alana. “It’s Sammy that has a problem with me. And I can’t imagine why.”
“Maybe it’s because you called him a murderer at the Spirit Week pep rally last year?” Alana suggested.
“Well, what do you call someone who kills dolphins and seals?” Stella asked her.
“You don’t know that the balloons he released into the air ever killed any animal.”
“And you can’t say that they didn’t,” Stella argued. “You know as well as I do that those balloons had to come down somewhere. Most of them wind up in the water. And then fish or other wildlife swallow them and suffocate.”
Alana sighed. She knew better than to argue with Stella about environmental issues. She glanced at her reflection in a nearby shop window. “Does my hair look okay?”
Stella nodded. “It looks fine. So does your makeup. And your outfit. You’ve already asked me this five times. I don’t know what the big deal is. It’s just Pomodoro Pizza, not Tavern on the Green.”
“I just want to look good; is that a crime?” Alana replied defensively.
“No,” Stella said. “It’s just weird for you.”
Alana didn’t know how to answer that. Until recently she hadn’t been obsessed with her appearance. But now that Sammy was at Columbia and she’d met Connor…Alana blinked her eyes and tried to imagine a big, red stop sign in her brain. She refused to let herself think about Connor at all, unless it was in terms of getting him together with Stella.
“Here we are,” Stella said as the girls approached the pizza place. She opened the door and walked inside. “Everyone’s at that big table in the back.”
Well, not everyone. As Alana walked toward the rear of the restaurant, she was painfully aware that neither Sammy nor Connor were seated in the crowd. In a strange way, that seemed to relax her. The pressure was off—although she wasn’t quite sure exactly what was making her feel pressured.
“Uh-oh! Hide the paper napkins; the Queen of Green has arrived,” Evan Canter, one of Stella and Alana’s classmates, teased as the girls grabbed seats at the end of the table.
“You know it,” Stella replied with a grin. “I hope you didn’t drive that heap of junk you call a car here tonight.”
“Nope. Took the subway,” Evan said. “Gas’s three bucks a gallon. I’m not driving any more than I have to.”
“Speaking of gas…you guys want pepperoni on the next pie?” Zach Ric
hter, another Lincoln High senior, asked.
“Funny,” Evan said.
“Nothing like a little fart humor to make a night out a success,” Zach joked.
“Can we get meatballs on half?” Jessica Kauffman, Zach’s girlfriend, wondered.
“Fine with me,” Alana said. “Anything but onions.”
“Oooh, Sammy must be coming tonight,” Evan teased. “Gotta keep your breath fresh.”
Alana blushed. He’d read her mind.
“Where is Sammy, anyway?” Jessica asked Alana. “I figured he’d be arriving with you.”
“He’ll be here later. He had some last-minute things to finish up at the dorm,” Alana explained. “And I invited another friend to come along. His name’s Connor. He should be here any minute.”
“Is he cute?” Rebecca Fieldston, a tall, dark-haired girl who’d graduated with Sammy, asked.
“What, you’ve already gone through all the guys at City College?” Zach asked her.
Rebecca rolled her eyes and blatantly ignored him.
“Connor’s unbelievably cute,” Stella told Rebecca.
“You’ve met him?” Rebecca asked her.
Stella shook her head. “Nope. That’s just what Alana’s been telling me all day.”
“Does Sammy know you’ve been making friends with cute guys?” Evan asked Alana.
Alana frowned. Sammy didn’t know about Connor. But then again, there was nothing for him to know. She and Connor were just friends. Just like the girls in Sammy’s dorms were his new friends. Although Alana hoped girls like Diana and Julia—the girls she’d met at The Hole in the Wall the other night—weren’t popping up in his dreams the way Connor kept suddenly showing up in hers. Not that she would’ve ever told anyone about that!
“I need a Diet Coke,” Alana said, changing the subject. “Immediately. I’m fried. I was on my feet all day.”
“Doing what?” Jessica asked.
“It was carnival day at Helping House,” Alana said. “I was working with the kids at the pie-toss booth.”
“They’re lucky to have you,” Stella told her.
Alana flashed a grin at her best friend. “I’m lucky to have them too. They’re great kids. And it’s nice to be appreciated once in a while.”
“Awww, we appreciate you,” Evan teased. “Like we’ll appreciate it when you chip in on the bill at the end of the night.”
“Gee, thanks a lot, pal,” Alana joked back.
“Hey, check it out, Sam the Man’s here!” Rebecca cheered, pointing toward the door. “What the heck’s he wearing?”
Alana looked over toward the entranceway. Sammy looked more like he had the night at the Knitting Factory than like he had looked when he was in high school. She figured this was his new style. Still, it seemed a little weird—like he was trying to set himself apart from his old pals. After all, he knew he was going to be hanging out in the East Village with their old, high school crowd. Jeans, sneaks, and a T-shirt would have been just fine. But Sammy had arrived in a pair of khaki chinos, a pale blue button-down shirt, and new tan loafers.
“Whoa, dude’s gone all preppy on us,” Evan remarked.
“I think he looks adorable,” Alana said, getting up and hurrying over to greet her boyfriend. “Hi, handsome.”
Sammy gave her a grin. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” He took her hand and gave her a soft, quick kiss on the lips.
Alana looked at him curiously. Funny, the kiss didn’t seem as intense or sincere as usual. Maybe Sammy was just tired.
“So how’s life up at One Hundred and Sixteenth Street?” Zach asked Sammy.
“Amazing,” Sammy told him as he grabbed a seat. “Great people. I’m making incredible connections.”
Now it was Stella’s turn to give Sammy an odd look. “Connections?” she asked him. “Is that college slang for friends?”
Alana gave Stella a swift kick under the table.
“Ouch!” Stella exclaimed. “What was that for?”
“I’ve got plenty of friends,” Sammy told Stella as he looked out over a whole table of them. “I’m not in college to become popular. I’m there to get my career going. And I’m definitely on the right track. In fact, I start my new internship next week!”
“Oh, wow!” Alana squealed. “An internship? Already? I thought Amnesty International didn’t take kids until they’d been in school at least a year.”
“Oh, it’s not with Amnesty International,” Sammy said.
“But that’s where you said you were going to apply next year. I thought you figured that as a poli-sci major, you’d be able to—” Alana began.
“I switched majors,” Sammy told her.
“In one week?” Alana asked, her voice scaling up slightly.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a few weeks, actually,” Sammy said.
“But at the Knitting Factory you were all over Leo about not having chosen a definite major yet,” Alana recalled.
“He’s a sophomore,” Sammy told her dismissively. “By now he should have a game plan. I’m just a freshman, and now I’m on track for my business degree.”
“B-business?” Alana asked. She was stunned.
Sammy nodded proudly. “And yesterday I got the news that my application for an internship at Shoreman Sporting Goods corporate offices was accepted. Now, it’s just a nonpaying internship in their marketing department but—”
“Of course it’s nonpaying,” Stella told him. “Shoreman’s not exactly known for paying its workers.”
Alana knew what Stella meant. Just last year there had been a whole series of articles in the New York Times about Shoreman Sporting Goods using child labor in foreign sweatshops to make their sneakers. The concept of Sammy—her Sammy—working for a company like that just didn’t compute. Sammy cared too much about people to ever work for a corporation like Shoreman. This had to be a joke.
“Those articles in the New York Times were filled with lies and innuendos,” Sammy told Stella. “Honestly, I don’t know how you believe that crap. The Times isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.”
“I agree,” Stella said. She laughed at Sammy’s stunned reaction. “But I don’t read the actual newspaper. I read it online. That way no trees have to be cut down for me to get my news.”
Alana tried to listen as her best friend and her boyfriend bickered back and forth, but she was lost in a haze. Things were all topsy-turvy. It was like she’d entered some alternate universe where up was down and black was white.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this yesterday?” Alana finally managed to murmur.
“I guess I heard about it and just ran out to celebrate,” Sammy explained with a shrug. “But I’m telling you now. Proud of me?”
Alana didn’t know how to answer that. Proud? That Sammy was working for a company that supported—or at the very least was rumored to support—child labor? How could she be? But Sammy was sitting there with such a joyous grin on his face that Alana couldn’t bear to argue with him. “If you’re happy, I’m happy,” she said lamely.
“It’s so nice to be with someone who’s not constantly competing with me,” Sammy said, giving Alana another quick kiss on the lips. “You always take pride in my successes. That’s why I like being around you.”
Alana slumped slightly in her chair and took a bite of the slice of pizza Zach had thrown onto her plate. It was best to keep food in her mouth so she couldn’t talk. After all, there really was no response to something like that.
Just then Stella prodded Alana in the ribs and looked over toward the door. “Is that Connor?” she whispered in Alana’s ear.
Alana glanced up, and immediately her eyes linked with his. It was him all right, ambling right for them with his thick hair swaying slightly and his eyes twinkling.
“Oh my God,” Stella whispered under her breath. “You weren’t kidding. Look at him. He’s incredible.”
Alana was already looking at him. Stella was right. Connor hadn’t made any o
bvious effort to dress for the evening, and yet, in his pale blue, ripped jeans and plain, white T-shirt, he looked as though he’d walked right out of a magazine.
“If you think he looks good that way, you should see him without his shirt on,” Alana whispered to Stella conspiratorially.
Sammy glared at her. “Excuse me?”
“Relax,” Stella assured him. “She invited him here for me. He’s a handyman at one of her clients’ places. He works with his shirt off when it’s hot.”
“Oh, a handyman,” Sammy repeated.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alana asked Sammy.
Before Sammy could reply, Connor stepped up to the table and planted a small peck on Alana’s cheek. Strange. He’d never done that before. Even stranger, she was sure she could feel his lips there long after he’d moved away.
“Hey, Alana,” he greeted her.
“You made it,” Alana replied with obvious enthusiasm.
“I told you I would,” he said with a grin. Then grabbing a chair, he placed himself right between Stella and Alana. “You mind if I squeeze in here?” he asked.
“No, that’s perfect,” Alana assured him. She jiggled her chair a little closer to Sammy to make room. “Connor, this is Stella,” she said, pointing to her best friend.
“Hi,” Connor said, turning his head to face her. “It’s great to finally meet you. Alana’s told me a lot about you.”
“Likewise,” Stella responded.
“I hope she only told you the good things,” Connor joked.
“You have no idea,” Stella replied with a laugh.
Sammy reached over Alana to shake Connor’s hand. “Sam Arden,” he introduced himself. “I’m sure Alana’s told you all about me as well.”
A smirk formed on Connor’s lips. “Sam…Sam…,” he repeated as if trying to recollect any mention of him. “Uh, yeah. I think I’ve heard of you.”
