The Perfect Couple

21

I'd wait till history for the big confrontation, I decided. It would be like returning to the scene of the crime and at least, if he didn't react the way I hoped he would, no one else would hear. Besides that, history simple long way in the future. I had all kinds of classes before that. I even had lunch period. It would be practically a lifetime before I had to go up to him and act on Kim's wacky idea of pretending that the tragedy of yesterday had somehow turned into today's comedy.

The time came, though and I was walking down the aisle in history as I had the day before. I paused at Alan's desk, my mouth so dry I wasn't sure I could speak.

"Hi!" My voice came out surprisingly strong and as bright as a robin's chirp. I tried a giggle and that worked, too. Alan looked up, a scowl marring his perfect brow, but I tried not to notice. "Wasn't that funny yesterday?" I was practically choking on my laughter now. "Mrs Cole can really be sarcastic, but she's kind of comical, to add at least she only picks on the top kids and I guess we can take it, can't we?"

First his brow smoothed out, then a smile began to talk at the corners of his faultless lips. It was over certain at first reluctant, really but then it slowly broadened to a grin.

"Yeah, sure we can," he agreed, chuckling. "Cole isn't so bad and like you say, she doesn't go after any of the wimpy kids."

"Well, listen," I said, flushed with victory, but not wanting to push my luck too far, "I better get to my seat before cole starts on us again. See you, huh?"

"Sure. See you."

For the first time he made direct eye contact with me and I felt as if I were drowning in the depths of his ebony gaze. I hurried to my seat before any mishaps could ruin my Victory.

I couldn't wait to tell Kim how beautifully her idea had worked and Marcus! He'd be pleased, to . . . or would he? I'd seen him at lunch and he'd asked if I talked to Alan yet. Reluctantly, I'd said I hadn't, thinking he'd accused me of being chicken, but instead he just shrugged and walked away as if it were just as well. He had lunch with his best friend Peter Elliot and some other guys.

At the time I've been a little bit worried at his indifference. What if he decided he didn't want to go on pretending to be my boyfriend? I couldn't go back to hanging around with other girls, or Alan would soon lose any interest he was beginning to have in me.

My worry came back now, but what kept me from being totally demoralized was the thought that Marcus I had promised to see this through and at least up until now now.is word had always been something you could take to the bank.

I made it through my other classes, then I went to phys ed, my last period. I was glad I was in the soccer section. That's my favourite sport and today I felt as if I really needed to work off some steam.

"Hi" I said to Mary Logan. She was one of the transfer students that had come recently lee.and so far she seems particularly unfriendly. But we were both late and the only two girls in the locker room, so I couldn't very well act as if she weren't there.

She said something that sounded as if she were gargling, then she turned her back on me and went to a far corner of the bench where she sat down and put on her shin guards and low soccer boots. All her stuff was top of the line like the designer jeans and cashmere sweater she shoved in her locker as if they were rags.

My cheeks burned at the way she'd snubbed me. A lot of the transfers were unfriendly, but I've never known one before to be that rude. We figured they were snobby because they moved all over the country, from the North East to the South West and their parents were mostly big shot engineers or scientists.

As I pulled on my Jersey I watched mary from the corner of my eye and decided she was probably more snippy than the other transfers because she was so pretty beautiful, really, with her perfect oval face and smooth black hair that fell almost to her waist. Usually she wore her hair pulled to the side, were it was held by a fancy comb. For soccer she wore it straight back and clasped at the nape of her neck. Nobody could wear their hair like that and still be gorgeous, but she managed to. The plain style only drew attention to her marvellous grey eyes.

I was glad to run out of the locker room and onto the field. The girls stood around in small groups waiting for Mrs Frey to come out of the building. When I went up to the group they were talking about Mary.

"I don't think it's fair she should be on the team," Nancy Dolan was saying. "And a captain, of all things! Everyone knows the transfers don't have any school spirit and Mary is the worst snob I've ever known. Yesterday I asked her if she would help me with my dribbling you know how well she does that, pushing the ball with one foot, then the other, without losing a second. Well"

Nancy's round face flushed and angry red "she didn't even bother to answer me. She just walked away with her head in the air . . . as if she weren't tall enough already. She makes me feel like a midget."

"Don't feel too bad about it," I told Nancy. "I just got the same treatment." I don't know what made me go on to say something in Mary's defence. Maybe it was because I detected some envy in Nancy's complaint, or maybe it was because Mary was so alone. Even if she did ask for it, I hated to see everyone gang up on her. "She really does deserve to be on the team," I argued, "because she plays so well better than any of us."