Her mother wasn't through yet. "Next time I hear you complain about your height I'm marching you right over to the children's hospital so you can see some children born with real problems. Then maybe you won't make such a big deal out of being a few inches taller than the other girls in your class."
Shelley felt as if she had been slapped. But she also knew, deep down, that her mother was right. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her face flaming.
Mrs. Novak crossed the room and put her arms around her daughter. "Sweetheart, don't be sorry. Just quit feeling sorry—for yourself. Because you're an incredibly lucky girl, with your whole life in front of you."
Shelley nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Maybe," she said hopefully, "the picture will look all right."
"Of course it will!" Mrs. Novak said confidently. "And I happen to know someone who's going to drive to every newsstand in town until he finds advance copies of that paper so he can see your picture first thing."
Shelley laughed. "Sounds like Daddy," she said, wiping her eyes.
"That's right," her mother said cheerfully. "Is there any way I can convince you to stay up late enough tonight to look at the picture with us?"
"I can't, Mom. I promised the coach that I'd be in bed by ten o'clock at the very latest. If we don't all get a good night's sleep, we risk throwing away the game tomorrow. And besides, tomorrow's going to be a really big day."
"That's right," her mother mused. "You've got the game, then the dance."
And Jim's picture of me in the newspaper, Shelley thought wistfully.
She had a sudden image of dancing with Jim that made her heart beat more quickly. If only she hadn't blown it by being too defensive—too quick to blame him for something that really wasn't his fault.
Well, all she could do was give the game tomorrow her all. Maybe one day she and Jim could be friends again. And for the time being, her mother was right. She needed to stop feeling sorry for herself and count her blessings.
Still, a tiny little part of her could feel sorry about Jim Roberts. And that tiny little part just couldn't stop thinking about him.
Ten
"Have you seen today's copy of the News?" Amy Sutton demanded, flinging the paper across the table at Jessica. It was Friday during lunchtime, and a large group had gathered at one of the tables. Everyone was busy talking about the basketball game and the dance afterward at the hotel, but Amy's question silenced the whole table.
"Let me see!" Jessica cried, lunging for the paper.
But Lila and Cara had gotten to it first. "Let me see," Lila cried. The bottom part of the paper tore, and Jessica snatched the top part free.
"I can't believe it!" she exclaimed, staring. "It's Shelley Novak!"
"Why does she get her picture in the paper?" Lila demanded.
Cara was staring at the photograph over Jessica's shoulder. "Wow," she said. "Shelley looks fantastic!"
"She sure does," Jessica agreed. "Boy, I'd kill to have legs that long."
Amy raised her eyebrows. "Too bad you don't," she said to Jessica. "Too bad you're so much shorter than Pat McLean."
"Since when do you call him Pat?" Jessica shrieked.
"Stop it, you two," Lila said. "We're sick and tired of hearing you squabble over poor Patrick McLean. For all either of you know, he could be married." She turned back to Shelley's photograph and examined it with interest. "So Jim Roberts won the competition," she mused. "This is a gorgeous photograph."
Jessica, still stricken by the thought that Patrick could be married or have a girlfriend, turned back to look at Shelley's photograph. It really was fabulous. Shelley seemed to be suspended in midair, and her body was so graceful that she almost looked like a dancer. The photograph was titled "Poetry in Motion," and a brief interview with Jim had been printed just below it on the page.
"Shelley's so lucky," Cara said, studying the picture. "Imagine having your picture on the front page of the paper the day of the big basketball playoff game! She must be ecstatic!"
"Yeah, and it's such a flattering picture, too," Amy said.
Jessica gave her an annoyed look. "You are the nastiest person alive, Amy. You're probably just jealous as usual, because you know if Shelley Novak had more confidence, she could be a model."
"I'll bet Shelley's going out of her mind with excitement," Cara added. "I'm going to go find her and tell her how great I think she looks."
"Wow," Cathy said, unfolding the paper and staring at Shelley's photograph, her eyes wide. "This is fantastic, Shel!"
Shelley was eating her sandwich, and she didn't bother to look up. "I haven't seen it yet," she said matter-of-factly. "And I don't really want to, either."
Cathy shook her head in disbelief. "You haven't looked at a picture of yourself that thousands of other people have seen? Are you nuts?"
"Maybe. But I'm trying to get psyched up for the game today," Shelley said calmly. "I don't feel like looking at the picture now. Do you mind?"
"Put it this way," Cathy said. "If someone took a picture of me that made me look that good, I'd want to look at it."
Just then Cara Walker walked up and dragged a chair over to their table. "Shelley, I can't even believe how wonderful you look in this photograph," she said enthusiastically, sitting down and putting the paper on the table.
Before Shelley could answer, a whole gang of kids had descended on her. Lila, Winston Egbert, Jessica, and all of them wanted to tell her how great she looked in the picture. Shelley just stared at them. She still hadn't looked at the photograph.
"Shelley's a little shy about the whole thing," Cathy explained when it became obvious her friend was too tongue-tied to respond.
"You should think about becoming a fashion model, Shelley," Lila said. "You know, I've thought about modeling myself, but I'm just not tall enough." The comment provoked a few barely suppressed snickers from Jessica and Amy, who knew Lila's attempt to become a model had ended in complete disaster.
But Lila's suggestion was lost in the jumble of excited comments from the crowd. Everyone wanted to know if Shelley had posed for Jim or if he had only taken candids and if the two of them were good friends and whether Shelley was always this photogenic. She couldn't believe her ears. By the time the din had subsided and people had drifted away again, she couldn't resist picking up Cathy's copy of the paper.
She unfolded it slowly and stared at the photograph. For a brief moment the old panic came over her, and she saw herself as a girl who was too tall for everything—even basketball. But the next minute a very different emotion overcame her as she studied the picture.
She could see what they meant. It was beautiful.
Correction, Shelley thought, she was beautiful.
She had never been able to think that about herself. Jim had caught her in so graceful a leap that she appeared to be floating. She looked strong, resilient, and in control. "Poetry in Motion" she read below the picture. That was when her eyes flooded with tears.
"I've got to get another carton of milk," Cathy said quietly, seeming to guess that Shelley needed to be alone then. Shelley nodded, barely noticing when her friend left. She was reading the interview with Jim.
The interviewer had asked Jim what his feelings were regarding the photo. "I was very lucky to have Shelley for a subject," Jim answered. "Her motions are so beautiful. I wanted to capture some of what I'd guessed she feels for her sport—some of the intensity, some of the grace. I fell in love with this picture, and even though my subject was camera-shy, I couldn't bring myself to destroy it. It was just too precious to me."
Shelley felt a tear trickle down her cheek. Instead of feeling embarrassed or angry that Jim had said something so personal, she felt incredibly moved. What came across in the interview was that he had a special feeling for her. Or at least, he had had that feeling before they both destroyed it through their stupid misunderstanding.
Shelley turned back to the photograph and studied it, fascinated. Intensity and grace, those were the words
Jim had chosen. And those words seemed to capture what came across in the picture. For all these years Shelley had been unable to comprehend that anyone could see her as graceful. Intense, maybe. Graceful, never. Not until today.
She jumped to her feet. Suddenly Shelley wanted more than anything in the entire world to find Jim Roberts and tell him how much she liked the picture. And how much she liked him.
"Go, Sweet Valley! Sweet Valley, go!" the cheerleaders screamed. It was four-thirty, and the fourth game in the playoffs between Sweet Valley and Emerson was in the second quarter. Emerson was leading by four points, and it looked as if the game would be a tough one.
"Pass it, Shel!" Cathy called out.
Shelley tried to pass her teammate the ball, but she stumbled, sending the ball right into the hands of the Emerson forward. What a klutz, Shelley scolded herself, running up the court with her head down.
It wasn't her game, and she knew why. All afternoon she had tried to find Jim. Not just to tell him about his picture, either. Shelley had realized the truth the minute she read that interview. She was in love with Jim Roberts. Really in love, not a stupid crush like the one she'd had on Greg Hilliard. And she wanted desperately to make things work out between them.
But she hadn't been able to find him. She had looked everywhere—in the lunchroom, in the darkroom, in the student lounge. No Jim. By the time the game started, Shelley was already feeling beaten. She had felt so dazzling when she first saw the photograph of herself. Now it was as if her feet were made out of lead.
Jim wasn't in his usual place on the sidelines, either. Shelley kept checking the stands for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.
"Come on, Shelley! What's wrong with you?" Cathy cried, watching with alarm as her friend dropped yet another pass.
"I'm sorry. I'm just too tense," Shelley muttered, running over to the sidelines to wipe her face on a towel when the coach called a time-out.
She could barely listen to his words of encouragement as he faced the team. Whether he said it or not, she knew it was her fault they were losing. She was playing like a beginner instead of an award-winner. She didn't deserve anyone's praise for her performance in this game.
"Tighten up on defense. Cathy, watch the center—she's giving us a lot of problems. Shelley" —the coach eyed her thoughtfully—"try to lighten up a little. Don't play like this is the last game in the world. Try to have fun out there."
Shelley nodded woodenly. How could she have fun when all she could think about was the disaster with Jim? That had been all her fault, too.
By the halftime break Sweet Valley High and Emerson were tied 70–70. If Sweet Valley could pull ahead and win, they would win the playoffs and go on to the state competition.
But that was if they won, Shelley thought despairingly. She didn't know about the others, but she felt like a wreck, as if every bit of energy had been squeezed out of her already.
Cathy nudged her in the ribs as they sat down for the break. "I just saw a friend of yours show up." She nodded toward the bleachers.
Jim had come to the game! Shelley thought. She narrowed her eyes, squinting up at the bleachers, watching him climb up to an empty space. As he sat down she caught a glimpse of his camera on a strap around his neck.
Shelley ran over to Coach Tilman's chair on the sideline. There was enough time left before the third quarter to do something to let Jim know how she felt about him. "Can I borrow a piece of paper and a pencil? I have to send someone a note," she explained, trying to keep the urgency out of her voice. "Please?"
The coach looked at her disapprovingly. Shelley knew it was bad sportsmanship to concentrate on anything but the game, but she had to send Jim a note. Until she did, until she saw his reaction, she just couldn't put her heart into the game.
"OK, but make it quick," Coach Tilman said, handing her his clipboard and a pencil.
Hastily she scribbled the following message:
Thank you for the most beautiful picture in the world. You said in the interview you couldn't throw it out because you'd fallen in love with it. That's exactly how I feel about you. Is there any way in the world we can make up? I want to take you to the dance with me tonight.
She hesitated for a minute. Then she signed it, "Poetry in Motion."
She looked around for someone to deliver the note. Maria Santelli, one of the cheerleaders, was right near Shelley, tying the shoelace on her tennis shoe. "Maria, would you do me a huge favor and run this note up to Jim Roberts?" Shelley asked. She pointed out the place where he was sitting.
Maria looked confused, but she nodded. "Sure, Shelley," she said. "By the way, that was a great picture of you in the paper today."
"Thanks," Shelley said. Her stomach was churning as she watched the petite brunette scramble up the bleachers. There . . . she had almost reached Jim . . . she was giving him the note.
Shelley felt her face burn as Jim looked curiously from Maria down to the spot on the floor where Shelley was standing. Then Maria started to climb down again, and Jim unfolded the note.
To Shelley it seemed forever before Jim got to his feet and searched for her. He had such a strange look on his face. Was he glad, or was he upset with her? Shelley couldn't tell.
A minute later their eyes met, and Shelley knew the answer. An enormous smile covered Jim's face, and she knew her own smile mirrored his.
He picked up his camera with a quizzical look, and Shelley nodded, still smiling. She knew she could play the second half of the game now—and she knew she could win it for Sweet Valley. With Jim watching her, she could do anything—even if he took a thousand pictures of her!
Eleven
The second half of the basketball game seemed to go by in a flash. Shelley knew she had never played so well before. Every pass flew into her fingers; every shot she made went through the hoop smoothly, never touching the rim. By the end of the fourth quarter, Sweet Valley was beating Emerson, 108–80, and Shelley had set a school record for scoring the most baskets in a single game.
But even more important, she knew Jim was rooting for her. When she heard the crowd roar with applause, she knew he was out there cheering her on.
The clock wound down to the final seconds, and Shelley had the ball.
"Novak! Novak!" the crowd screamed as they got to their feet. Shelley charged up the court with the ball to dunk Sweet Valley's final basket. Suddenly it was over, and Sweet Valley had won the girls' league playoffs, 110–80, three games to one!
The next thing Shelley knew, her teammates were sweeping her up on their shoulders, yelling her name in unison, and carrying her along toward the crowd of students, reporters, and photographers bearing down on them. Shelley felt dozens of hands supporting her, and her heart was pounding wildly. It had been the best game of her life.
Reporters from the News were pressing in all around the team to ask her questions. "Did you feel you had the game the whole time, or were you nervous at the end of the half?" "How does it feel to have scored so many baskets?" "What college are you thinking of going to?"
But Shelley was barely paying attention to the crowd. Her eyes were scanning the throng of people for Jim. At last she saw him hurrying toward her, and her face lit up.
"Can we get a picture of you?" the News photographer asked Shelley.
She laughed. "Actually, there's someone here who's kind of—well, I'd really like it if he'd take my picture and let you use it." She pointed to Jim.
The News photographer looked at Jim, puzzled. "Say, aren't you the guy who just won the contest we sponsored?"
Jim nodded, but he kept staring at Shelley.
"Well, then, be my guest," the photographer said with a smile.
Shelley smiled straight at Jim. She was sure he would take wonderful pictures of her and the team. In fact, she couldn't believe she had ever doubted him. "OK, cameraman," she said, "start shooting!"
A crowd was still hanging around the girls' team fifteen minutes later. The coach was talking about the team's ch
ances in the state championship, the cheerleaders were congratulating the players, and a number of friends and fans were still standing around, talking excitedly about the game. Shelley had a towel around her neck and was deep in conversation with Cathy, Jim, and several friends when Greg Hilliard pushed his way through the crowd.
"Shelley, let me give you a hug," he said exuberantly.
Shelley gave him a brief smile. Greg hadn't had much time for her before she won the game for the team. Now he was acting as if they were incredibly close. But before she could say a word, Greg had engulfed her in a huge embrace. It was a little more affectionate than Shelley had expected, and she could see an anxious expression cross Jim's face.
"You were terrific out there, Shel. Really terrific," Greg continued. He kept his arm around her while he talked. "And you know something? I love that photograph of you in the newspaper. You look fantastic, you know that?"
"Thanks," Shelley said, trying to edge away from him a little. "Actually, Jim took it." She signaled to Jim, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable.
"No kidding?" Greg didn't seem to care. "Well, that's great. But the point is, you really look terrific in that picture, Shelley. Like, I don't know, some kind of actress or a dancer or something. So speaking of dancing . . ."
Shelley pulled herself free from Greg. She really didn't like the way he was acting—as if he owned her.
"Speaking of dancing," Greg continued, not seeming to mind that the whole crowd around them had hushed to listen, "what do you think about going to the dance with me tonight, after all?"
Shelley couldn't believe her ears. Greg? Asking her to the dance? After what he said to her when she'd asked him?
"No, thanks," she told him. Her voice sounded a little colder than she had intended, and she added quickly, smiling at Jim, "I already have a date."
It gave her a real jolt of pleasure to take Jim's hand and slip off through the crowd with him, leaving Greg staring after her as if he didn't know what had hit him!
Perfect Shot (Sweet Valley High Book 55) Page 7
