The Wallflower

by Jan Freed

  All that benevolence made him damned nervous. As if she knew all men said they weren’t serious at first but soon he would feel differently.

  Cursing, he opened the car door, slid into the seat, then banged his forehead twice against the wheel. This mess was his own stupid fault. If he’d left well enough alone after the first kiss, Donna wouldn’t have any false hope where he was concerned. Their first kiss tonight had matched the one they’d shared last week. Affectionate, brief and chaste. , But no-o-o, he’d decided to try again, this time giving it one hundred percent. Determined to prove that, given a chance with an attractive woman—any attractive woman—his body would respond with passion. That was the theory, anyway.

  Well, Donna was drop-dead gorgeous. His body had gotten a helluva chance to respond. And he’d felt nothing more than a pleasant stirring of warmth. Not a fraction of what he’d experienced when Sarah had simply run her fingernail along his jaw.

  Jack inserted the car key grimly and started the engine with a roar. Sarah had looked for and found a serious relationship. In Dallas. With a guy named Mark. Who was waiting right now for Sarah’s fingernails to come home to Papa and work their magic.

  In a little less than four months she would testify at the trial. Return to her life. Be out of Jack’s for good.

  And maybe, if he kept his distance in the meantime, they would both be safe and sound.

  SARAH SLID her lunch tray along the metal bars and eyed the deli sandwiches. After six weeks of going through this cafeteria line, she could find her choices blindfolded.

  She reached out, paused, and diverted her hand to the left. What were a few extra calories on a Monday that already sucked? At the cash register, she pulled out her wallet.

  “Uh, Sarina, you realize that’s not a turkey sandwich, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, Roger. See, turkey is white. But this meat is red. I figured out it must be something else.” She handed over her money and sighed at the boy’s fierce blush. “I’m sorry. It’s been a bad day, but I shouldn’t take it out on you.” There were several other candidates, however, who deserved the brunt of her mood. Right now Bruce Logan was at the top of her list.

  Roger handed back Sarah’s change. “No problem. I have a lot of bad days,” he said, smiling.

  Sarah blinked, then broke into a grin. “Roger, when did you get your braces off?”

  “Friday.” He smiled wider, exposing at least twenty-four of his thirty-two straightened teeth, plus a subtle new air of confidence. “I was wondering if you’d notice.”

  “Are you kidding? Not notice a great smile like that? Lookin’ good, dude!” She lifted her tray and turned. “Laurie’s gonna have to guard you like a Doberman,” she teased, referring to his new girlfriend.

  Her steps were lighter as she walked away. Roger did look great. Especially with the dramatic improvement in his complexion. She’d talked to Donna, who’d talked to the school nurse, who’d talked to Roger’s parents, who weren’t morons at all. Simply stressedout working parents trying to squeeze too many needs into a limited amount of time and money.

  Somehow, bless their hearts, they’d managed to include dermatologist appointments in the budget. And Sarah’s small part in boosting Roger’s self-esteem felt great. Better than when she’d helped her NBA client land a huge cereal endorsement contract. Ironic. Possibly very important. But she’d have to explore the idea later.

  Not while walking to her table. Not when she needed to begin her daily lecture. Don’t do it, Sarah. You’ve made it this far without cracking. Just go to your seat. You’ll see him this afternoon in class....

  But somewhere to her right, Jack was standing against the far wall. Now. And her craving was as powerful as a chain smoker’s need to inhale that first drag in the morning. She resisted for three more straining seconds.

  And then she looked.

  Their gazes connected. An electric bridge of awareness leaped between them. Crackled and sizzled. Penetrated tissue, blood and bones down to her very DNA.

  And then he looked away.

  Always he looked away. Always she doubted what she’d seen and felt. Always she told herself that tomorrow, she wouldn’t look and put herself through this torture again.

  Since the night he’d kissed Donna, Sarah had watched her friend pursue Jack, watched him sidestep capture yet stay within range. She hadn’t interfered in the least. She’d simply died a little each day. Unable to stop the cancerous longing killing her cell by cell.

  Shaking off her morbid thoughts, Sarah approached her lunch table. Thank God for these kids. Without their healing presence, there’d be nothing left of her in three months, when she had to appear at John’s murder trial.

  She set down her tray to a unison chorus of “Sarina!” What had started out as a joke—mimicking the way bar patrons greeted Norm on the classic TV show “Cheers”—was now a daily ritual. As usual, it made her smile.

  She sat between Elaine and Kate, and conversations all around picked up where they’d left off at Sarah’s arrival.

  “Uh-oh,” Elaine murmured, eyeing Sarah’s tray knowingly. “Anything over five-hundred calories means something’s wrong. What happened?”

  A month ago, Elaine never would’ve thought twice about food other than its taste. Now, she removed the last of the cheese, egg and ham cubes from her chef’s salad, then added a packet of diet dressing to what was left.

  She also waited patiently for an answer, undeterred by Sarah’s silence.

  “I created a monster,” Sarah grumbled, unwrapping her corned beef sandwich and taking a bite. When she finished moaning in ecstasy, she relented. “If you must know what’s wrong, on the way to the cafeteria I had a little run-in with Bruce.”

  Literally. One minute she’d had her head down moving full speed, the next she’d barreled into his brawny chest.

  On her left, the forkful of mashed potatoes rising to Kate’s mouth stopped in midair. “What did he want?”

  Sarah faced the girl grimly. “He wanted to be sure I knew about his little party on Friday. He said you’ll be there. And that his parents won’t.”

  Kate lowered her fork and flushed. “I told him I would think about it, that’s all.”

  Sarah bit back a dozen heated protests. “Good. Then there’s no problem. Because if you think about it, you won’t go.”

  She’d grown very fond of Kate in her own right, regardless of the interest she held as Jack’s little sister. Sarah hadn’t visited the girl’s house since that first time, but they talked regularly in home ec class and on the phone.

  Elaine spoke up. “There’s something you’re not telling us. What else did Bruce say?”

  “Oh, just his usual crude macho stuff. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Sarah took a huge bite to forestall more questions.

  Elaine knew Bruce baited Sarah at every opportunity. What the girl didn’t know was that his size, hostility and conscienceless eyes rattled her more than she ever admitted. Today he’d defined exactly what kind of fun he intended to have with Kate, and Sarah’s stomach had turned.

  He was completely capable of using an innocent girl to get back at her, Sarah knew. She vowed to keep closer tabs on Kate in the next week.

  “Hey, Sarina?” Janice called from across the table, a welcome interruption. “The prom committee meets after school today, doesn’t it?”

  Donna was the adult supervisor of the student committee, and had roped Sarah into joining the group. “No, the meeting’s tomorrow. Why?”

  “I heard Wendy wants to have a Barbie and Ken decoration theme. You’ll fight her on it, won’t you?” Janice persisted over the loud groans around her. “I refuse to have my picture made next to a cardboard cutout of Ken—with me looking down on his head.”

  Sarah laughed along with the others, glad the tall girl was learning to relax a little about her height. “I don’t know how much influence I have, but I’ll do my best.”

  “I heard Wendy wants to be Barbie for the night, with Tony as Ken,” D
erek piped up. “People who want to can have their pictures taken with them. Sort of like a celebrity impersonator thing.”

  Kate opened her mouth and made a gagging motion with her index finger.

  “I’d rather get my picture taken with a purple dinosaur,” Elaine muttered.

  “I dunno,” Beto protested. “Maybe we’re bein’ a little callous, here. This is my only chance to snuggle next to a sexy blond babe. Who knows? I might get lucky.”

  Fred pushed up his glasses. “If I remember my Barbie anatomy, you’ll need more than luck to get lucky. She’ll need radical surgery.”

  The girls groaned, the boys cackled.

  Sarah looked Fred in the eye, not easy to do through one-inch lenses. “We need to work on your social life, son.”

  He popped a corn chip into his mouth and shrugged. “I had sisters. They left their dolls lying around. I did what little brothers do.”

  “Yeah, be a little creep,” Janice said.

  Sarah grinned. “Here’s an idea for the prom theme. How about Guys and Dolls? Whatd’ya think, Fred?” She got a chip thrown in her face for her weak attempt at humor. Tasty, with her corned beef sandwich. Maybe she should try another joke.

  “Can we forget the doll thing?” Fred asked in a pained voice. “Somebody please change the subject.”

  “I heard Mr. Morgan is sleeping with Ms. Kaiser,” Derek obliged, then stuffed an entire Oreo in his mouth.

  Sarah swallowed her bite of sandwich unchewed. It hit her stomach like a deadweight.

  “Why’s everybody staring at me like that?” Derek asked, his voice muffled by cookie.

  Beto snorted. “Because it’s not polite to talk with a full mouth and an empty head. Jeez, man, I really wonder about you.” He nodded toward Kate, who looked as uncomfortable as Sarah felt.

  The lightbulb finally clicked on. “O-o-oh. Sorry, Kate. I forget sometimes that Mr. Morgan is your brother. You never talk about him.”

  “I know. It’s okay,” Kate said stiffly. “Jack and Ms. Kaiser have dated some, but it’s nothing serious. Who told you they were sleeping together?”

  Derek’s look of fierce concentration was comical. Then his features relaxed. “Lisa Meyer. Tyler Wilkes told Lisa that Karen Polk told Tyler that her older sister lives in the same condominium complex as Ms. Kaiser. Anyway, Karen’s sister saw a tall dark-haired man leaving Ms. Kaiser’s house about 3:00 a.m. this Sat—Well, I guess that would be Sunday. Karen figured it might be Mr. Morgan, since Ms. Kaiser’s always flirting with him at school.”

  Sarah was paying already for eating that heavy corned beef sandwich. Her stomach churned. Voices faded behind the louder buzz of her thoughts.

  According to Donna, she avoided Jack at school, knowing administration would frown on any blatant personal relationship. She’d often complained about how hard it was to keep her distance. Only she must not’ve done a very good job. So much for discretion.

  And so much for Sarah’s secret fantasy. For weeks she’d nurtured the disloyal wish that Jack would abandon his principles and battle for “Mark’s” woman. Now she knew that would never happen. Jack had apparently claimed his own woman this past weekend. In so doing, he’d killed Sarah’s last faint hope.

  Along with a few hundred million of her cells.

  THAT AFTERNOON at the beginning of fifth period class, Jack checked attendance, then rounded his desk to sit on one corner.

  He waited until he had everyone’s full attention. “The schedule I handed out the first week of school announced a final theme paper due in two weeks.” Noting the panic or distaste on most faces, he added, “I want you to take the assignment off the list.”

  A beat of silence, then an outbreak of smiles and pleased exclamations.

  “Whoa, now,” Jack cautioned, raising a palm. “Before you celebrate, I have a new assignment to review with you.” He slipped off the desk, scooped up a stack of papers from his Out box, then gave students at the head of each row a sheaf to pass back. He sensed an ugly shift in mood, but pretended not to notice.

  He’d done a lot of thinking since the day Sarah had criticized his by-the-book manner of grading a multiple choice quiz. What, he’d asked himself, would writing a theme paper on The Grapes of Wrath teach his kids? English composition? How to organize their thoughts? A few universal themes, garnered from class notes or good ol’ Cliffs?

  Maybe. But would they learn anything relating to their lives? Anything they would remember one week after turning in their papers?

  He hadn’t felt comfortable with the answer. Or with the fact that Sarah was making him question his teaching methods. But if she was right, he couldn’t sacrifice what was best for students in the interest of his pride.

  When everyone had a copy of the assignment, he reclaimed his desk corner perch. This must be how Coach Clark felt preparing his football players before a big game. Excited. Anxious to motivate good performance without applying too much pressure.

  As Jack’s “team” quietly read the assignment, he did what he’d wanted to do since the class bell had rung. He looked at Sarah.

  Now that his first electric glimpse of her for the day was behind him, he could study her with some emotional detachment. She seemed pale and...oddty subdued. Almost shaken. Had something frightened her? He’d seen Donna Saturday, and she hadn’t mentioned any reason to be alarmed for Sarah’s safety.

  Students began shifting in their seats.

  Frowning, Jack dragged his gaze to a more neutral location, his thoughts reluctantly back to the task at hand: explaining the assignment.

  “Okay, as you can see, we’re trying something a little different, here. A little more interesting, I hope, than the usual theme paper. I want you to look around at your environment—home, school, community—and focus on one person or aspect of society. Then compare your selection with a character or social condition described in The Grapes of Wrath.”

  Ignoring the hostile, bewildered or bored expressions on many faces, he forged gamely ahead. “I’ve given you some examples of possible ideas, but you’re not held to them by any means. I expect you to research your topic and give me your own interpretation, not somebody else’s.”

  He glanced at Sarah, who didn’t look up or acknowledge his emphasis on individual interpretation. Somehow he’d thought she would be pleased.

  Disappointed, he scanned the other students. “Now, who has questions?”

  Did Coach Clark’s players ever look like these kids, as if they’d been handed play patterns for hockey instead of football? Somehow Jack doubted it.

  He waited grimly, relieved when a hand crept up. “Yes, Jessica?”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, apathy in her tone, in the finger twirling a lock of sandy blond hair around and around.

  Patience, he counseled himself. “What don’t you understand?”

  “Any of it. Can we do the old theme assignment if we want? I understood that.” The accusation in her gaze clipped Jack at the knees.

  “Yeah, that assignment was better,” Tony grumbled.

  “This is too hard,” a shadow jock agreed.

  “Why’d you change it, anyway?” Kim whined, a third body heaped on the pile.

  Bruised and deflated, Jack rolled out from under in time to see another hand raise. “Go ahead, Beto,” he said wearily.

  “I like the new assignment better. If I do it, can I get extra credit?”

  The Hispanic boy’s air of contained excitement roused Jack’s suspicions. “You want to do the new assignment?” he asked, expecting a punchline.

  “Yeah. Mi abuela, my grandmother, see, she met my grandfather in McAllen when she was picking grapefruit. Her family moved from crop to crop all over the Rio Grande Valley. They were migrant workers, just like all those people we’ve been reading about.”

  Mentally pushing himself up from the ground. Jack stood and brushed off his backside. “I’m with you. Go on.”

  “Well, I’ve been asking her about how her life was. You know,
if it was as bad as what the Joads went through? And she has some real cool stories. I could maybe use some of them for this assignment.” Beto paused, looking anxious. “That’s sort of what you’re looking for, isn’t it?”

  Jack felt like spiking a football and wobbling his knees in a victory dance.

  He settled for breaking into a huge smile. “That’s exactly the kind of thing I’m looking for! It sounds like the start of a great paper,” he said sincerely, amazed at the light of pride in eyes that were normally mischievous. “You won’t get extra credit, but you might get the only decent grade in the class.”

  Jack’s challenging gaze swept over Beto’s peers. “Come on, people. Someone else give me an idea to bounce around.”

  He searched out the one person he could count on for lively discussion, the student who always voiced her thoughts and opinions. “Sarina, what are you thinking about focusing on for this assignment?”

  For the first time since lunch, Sarah looked at Jack directly...and wiped all thoughts of assignments from his mind.

  CHAPTER TEN

  PAIN DARKENED Sarah’s eyes to deep sapphire.

  The next instant, Jack wondered if he’d imagined the emotion. Right now her gaze was steady and inscrutable.

  “I don’t know what I’ll write about,” she said evenly. “I’m not sure I understand the assignment, yet.”

  A lie, of course. Jack normally had to stay on his toes to keep up with Sarah. What was going on, here? “Really?”

  At least she had the grace to flush.

  “Then let me try and make it clearer,” Jack said. quelling an irrational sense of betrayal. He forced himself to look away and scan other faces. “Did any of you recognize someone you know, a friend or relative, maybe, in one of Steinbeck’s characters? Did a particular scene make you feel a strong emotion? If it did, you’re probably identifying with some experience you’ve had personally.”