Final Friends

Page 3

After waving a quick farewell, Jessica turned and opened her locker and discovered that the light blue cashmere sweater her mother had bought for her in Switzerland for two hundred francs was being with somebody's grape juice.

The juice was leaking from a soggy brown-paper lunch bag that did not belong to her and which she felt by all rights did not belong in her locker.

'Damn,' she whispered,hastily pulling the bag and the notebook out of the locker and dumping them on the ground. Her face fell as she unfolded her prize gift and held it up. She had known it was to be in the high nineties today;she'd only brought the sweater to show off to her friends. Now it had a big stain over the heart area. It was dark enough to be bloodstain. Suddenlyshe wished she had never got on that plane in Zurich.

'Excuse me, I think these are mine,' somebody said from below her. There was a guy crouched down at her feet, picking up the notebook and lunch bag. When he had his things in hand,he glanced up, clearing his throat.

'Are we sharing the same locker?'
Jessica put her sweater down and sighed. 'You mean you don' t even get your own locker in this school? '
What kind of place is this? I had my own locker in kindergarden.'
The guy stood, frowning as he noticed the juice dripping from his bag. 'I guess it does take some getting used to. But I don't think I' ll be getting in your way much. I only keep my books in my locker. '
'And your lunch.'

The fellow noticed her sweater and did a quick double take,from it to his bag. "Oh,no,did my grape juice leak on your sweater?"

""Somebody's grape juice did".
He grimaced. "I'm sorry, I really am. Do you think the stain will come out?"
"I'll probably have to cut it out "
"that's terrible". He reached a hand into the back. "It's all my fault. Boy, can I make it up to you? Could I buy you a new one?" "Not around here"

"Well how much did it cost? I could pay you for it at least"
"Two hundred Swiss francs."
"How much is that? "
"I don't know ," Jessica leaned an elbow on the wall of lockers, rested her head in her hand, blood pounding behind her temples.  What a lousy way to start the day, the whole school year for that matter. "I can't remember"

The poor guy stood staring at her for a moment. "I really am sorry," he repeated.  Jessica closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath, getting a hold of herself. She was making a mountain out of a molehill.Fatigue often made her overreact chances were the dry cleaners would get the stain out.  And if they didn't, they didn't. Her bedroom closet was overflowing with clothes. When she thought about it, she realised she had little right to blame this guy.

After all, she was invading his territory. He probably had this locker since he was a freshman. She straighten up, letting the sweater dangle by her side, out of the way. "Don't worry about it " she said. "I have another one at home just like it." She offered him her hand, lightening her tone. "My name's Jessica Hart. I'm a Mesa High refugee."

The guy shook her hand. "I'm Michael Olson".