The Perfect Couple

8

Last summer we both had jobs with the recreation department, helping to clean up trash from the parks and playgrounds. We had to keep the aluminum cans separate from the other trash because they could be sold and recycled. When school started and our jobs ended, Marcus got the idea of going into business for ourselves. Plenty of cans were discarded along the streets and roads. Every Saturday we'd been going out and filling a couple of bags. We stored them in Marcus's garage and when we had enough to make it worthwhile, his dad drove us to the salvage yard were they weighed them and paid us. Marcus was saving his money for a car. I spent mine mostly for sports equipment, like soccer boots and shin guards and my own ball so I could practise at home.

As we started up the hill we had to slow down alright I had to slow down so I took time to steal a glance at his profile. I remembered what Kim had said about him being nice looking. I'd never thought much about his looks before. Who is just my good old buddy. But now I wondered how another girl would see him.

She'd probably be impressed, I thought. He was really quite handsome with his strong, blunt features, his wild thatch of dark hair and chocolate brown eyes that twinkled like sparklers when he smiled . . . which was a lot of the time.

"Want to rest a while?" Marcus stopped and looked back over his shoulder. The grade was really steep now. I was pedalling hard, but still I'd fallen behind.

"I'm okay," I said, trying not to pant. "We don't want anyone to beat us to the point."

There were usually a lot of cans right out in the open at Lookout Point. People would park there to look over the canyon, maybe have a soda and some of them would just toss their empties out the window. I used to think litterbugs should be put in the stocks in front of the county courthouse. Well, I still did, in a way, but if they they were going to litter, I couldn't help being glad that's some of them at least left the cans out on the paved areas, well we didn't have to get poison oak to retrieve them.

When we reached the point we leaned our bikes against the bank across the road and got busy. I was out of breath and my legs were trembling, but it had been worth the time climb because there were cans every place. There was another reason I was glad we'd come here today. When we filled our bags we'd sit on the bank I'd look down into the valley while we drank the sodas we'd brought. That would be the perfect time for me to tell Marcus my idea. "Yuck," I said after a while. "What's the matter?" "Somebody stuck a cigarette butt in this can." I had on gloves, but still I hated to pick up cans that were messy. "Here, I'll get it." Marcus picked up the dirty can and put it in his bag, then tossed a clean one into mine. "That will make it even."

"Thanks. You're a pal," I said. "Haven't I always been your pal?" He gave me kind of a shy grin.

Had he always been shy, or was he changing? He wasn't always so protective, either. Once he'd put a worm in my lunch pale and pretend it had crawled out of my apple. I didn't believe him, but still I wouldn't eat an apple for a long time I'm and he roar with laughter when he offered me one and I'd refuse it. That seemed like such a long time ago. . .

When we decided we had enough for the day we dragged out bags of cans across the road, then sat down on the bank in the shade of a tall eucalyptus tree. I popped the tab on an orange shoulder and Marcus open a cola. When we'd both taken a long, thirsty pull, I finally spoke up.

"We're really good friends aren't we Marcus?"

As he turned to look at me, he pushed a tumble of dark hair back from his forehead. "The Two Musketeers," he said. When he first called us that, I'd reminded him that there were three musketeers, but he said that two friends were better than three. "What's on your mind, Black?" He asked. This was a lot harder than I thought it would be and for a minute I wanted to tell him there was nothing on my mind, I was just making conversation. But he knew me too well for that. I could fool hi parents some of the time, but I couldn't fool Marcus any of the time. He knew I had something to say hey hey and he wouldn't let me off the hook until I told him what it was.

I gulped a the way I just gulped my soda and then I got it out. "Starting on Monday I want you to pretend to be my boyfriend."

He chuckled. "What do you want us to do put on a play in the garage? Don't you think we're a little too old for that?"

I've never felt self-conscious with Marcus before, but now it was all I could do to look into his eyes. My voice was wobbly as I said, "it's nothing like that. But I do need your help, Marcus."

His smile was reassuring. "Just tell me what I can do for you. Were the two musketeers right?"

"What I want us to be is Romeo and Juliet!" I burst out, grateful for the cue he'd thrown me. "And I don't mean for a play. I want us to start going together like a couple. You know as if we were dating and sort of in love."

Marcus gaped at me, his mouth almost as wide open as his eyes. "But why?" He croaked.

I swallowed. This was getting hard by the minute, but somehow I managed to say, "because I'm in love with Alan Rogers and he won't notice me if I keep going around with other girls. All you have to do"

That was as far as I got before Marcus bounded to his feet, his eyes shooting sparks. "Are you out of your mind?" He yelped. "You want me to go out with you because you're in love with Alan Rogers? What kind of sense does that make?" Before I call try to explain he spat out, "Alan Rogers!" As if it's had just gotten through to him who I was talking about. "I didn't think you even knew that guy was alive."

I jumped up, too. "It's the other way around!" I flung back at him. "Alan doesn't know I'm alive." I knew I had no right to be angry with Marcus, but I was so disappointed that he was letting me down, I had to get mad or cry and I I haven't cried since I was a kid, except at movies, which didn't count. I've been so short my old friend would laugh at my scheme and say, sure, he'd help me out.

"That's good," Marcus growled, although he'd simmered down a little bit. "Quite a few girls at Bayside would be better off if that guy hadn't noticed they were alive." He paused, then said, "Alan Rogers!" For the third time. Each time he said the name he sounded more disgusted. "I don't know what you see that showboat." He shook his head as if he was giving up on me.

Whether I had a right to be or not I was suddenly furious with him. "I see that he's the most gorgeous, most exciting boy in school and I'm going to attract his attention if I have the throw myself in front of his brother's car!" I yelled.