Racing Hearts

by Francine Pascal

  “We’re all rooting for you, Roger,” Todd said.

  “But there’s someone else you should be thanking,” Elizabeth hastened to point out. “I wouldn’t have known about your problem if it weren’t for a certain somebody.”

  “Olivia.” Roger whispered her name as he scanned the area around them. He spotted her sitting a few yards away, under a spruce tree, reading a book of poetry.

  “I have a feeling she really cares about you,” Elizabeth hinted.

  “I’m beginning to realize it more and more,” Roger said softly. “Uh, if you’ll excuse me, Liz…”

  “I understand, Roger,” Elizabeth said. But almost before the words were out, Roger was heading toward the spruce.

  When he got there he knelt down and lifted the book from Olivia’s hands. “Any room for a dumb jock down here?”

  “I don’t see one around,” she said.

  “You’re looking at him. Oh, Liv, I’ve been so stupid not to realize what’s been staring me in the face for so long.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You, Liv, and how much you really care about me. I mean, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be able to run in the Bart. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “You’re really going to be able to run? Oh, Roger, that’s wonderful!” Olivia’s smile brought out her loveliness. “I’m so glad for you, Roger,” she said happily. “I hope you win.”

  “Will you be rooting for me?”

  “Of course I will,” she announced. “You don’t think I’d root for anyone else, do you?”

  “No,” Roger said, throwing Elizabeth a yes-I-see-you’re-right look. “How could I have missed it?” he asked.

  “Missed what?” Olivia countered.

  “The love in your eyes.” Tentatively he reached for her hand, which she gave him willingly, and was pleasantly surprised by how good it felt. He squeezed it tenderly.

  “If this is what jocks are like, I should have taken up an interest in sports a long time ago,” she said.

  Seeing that as a signal, Roger brushed his lips against her hand. “I’ve been so dumb, Liv. We’re both pretty unconventional, and I guess I used to think we were friends more out of self-protection than anything else. But how could I have asked for someone more loyal to me than you? You’ve always been around to talk to whenever I needed it. You were there to cheer me up when I’d overhear someone making fun of me. You did it expecting nothing in return—except maybe a little friendship. Well, I’m ready to tell you that even though I may not have shown it until now, there’s always been a little part of my heart that belonged to you. I’m ready to give you all of it if you’re willing to accept it.”

  “You were never very good at poetry, Roger, but I accept,” Olivia said. But she couldn’t help adding, “What about Lila?”

  Roger winced at the sound of the name. “All she wanted was to bask in my glory. She never cared for me at all.”

  “It must hurt,” Olivia said, though greatly relieved Lila was no longer a threat. “When did you realize what she was doing?”

  “This morning when I told her I wasn’t running. Which reminds me—I want to catch Bruce before lunch is over and tell him he’s got competition after all. I’m sure Lila’s already told him about my dropping out of the race.”

  Olivia was suddenly struck with a thought. “Don’t tell him, Roger.”

  “I’ve got to. The coach expects me to practice with him after school.”

  “Can you practice without him?” Olivia wondered, an idea brewing in her head even as she spoke.

  Roger thought about it a moment. “I suppose I could,” he told her, “but why should I?”

  Olivia laid out her reasoning. “Lila thinks you’re not running, correct?” Roger nodded. “By the end of the afternoon, the news will be all over school. Quite likely the other schools will hear about it, too. Talk it over with the coach. I’m sure he’ll agree that pretending to keep you out of the race is good strategy. It’ll catch the other schools off guard.”

  “But if I’m not supposed to be running, how can I show up on Saturday?”

  “You’ll still be officially entered. It’ll only be a rumor that you’re not. Then, right before the race, you can make a grand entrance, sort of like out-Bruce-ing Bruce Patman.”

  Roger appeared intrigued with the idea, but even more amazed by its source. “I never figured you to have an ounce of deception in you.”

  Olivia smiled, anticipating the look of shock on Lila’s face when she saw Roger take the field on Saturday. “Let me just say that even the most honest person in the world feels the need for revenge every once in a while.”

  “I know what you mean,” he said, recalling the derisive look on Bruce’s face after the race trials. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  Sharing their secret, the two strode hand in hand across the campus lawn, counting the days until the race was set to start.

  * * *

  Jessica, too, was counting the days—with increasing dread. She had dropped all sorts of hints, but she still hadn’t gotten Dennis to commit himself to taking her to the Bart dance—or anyplace else for that matter outside the immediate vicinity of the office. Lila’s cancellation of her party hadn’t helped matters, either. For one of the few times in her life, Jessica was at a total loss to explain a boy’s behavior. It was almost as if Dennis were embarrassed to be seen in public with her.

  Time having run out, she was forced to take a more direct approach. The night before the race, she got her chance, after she and Dennis had spent yet another evening alone in her father’s office. “This is wonderful, Dennis,” she whispered into his ear, her heart still pounding from his kisses.

  “You really are terrific, Jess,” he murmured, returning the compliment. “I’ve never known anyone like you.”

  Still nestled in the crook of his arm, she purred in her most tempting voice, “It sure is a shame to have to wait until Monday to do this again.”

  Dennis sighed uneasily. “Yeah,” he agreed.

  Jessica’s voice hardened just a bit. “It doesn’t have to be that way, Dennis.”

  “What do you mean?” he replied, a little too defensively. “I’m perfectly happy about the way things are going. Aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m not, Dennis, which is why I’m bringing this up. I get the feeling you’re not being entirely straightforward with me.”

  Dennis cleared his throat. “Gee, what makes you say that?”

  Jessica thought he sounded nervous. Now she was certain he was hiding something. Part of her didn’t want to find out what it was, but the more practical side of her knew the time had come to get to the bottom of things. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t made any plans for the weekend.”

  “What about the Bart dance? You’ve been talking about it all week.”

  Jessica stiffened. Did he really think she’d go without him? “Why do you think I’ve mentioned it? Because I like hearing the sound of my voice against these walls? I wanted you to ask me, dummy!” She turned to face him. “But since you haven’t, I see I’ll have to do the job myself.” Deftly switching gears, she lowered her voice and said seductively, “Dennis Creighton, will you take me to the Bart dance tomorrow night?”

  Dennis lowered his head. He seemed embarrassed. “I—I can’t,” he said. All the self-assurance was gone from his voice.

  Jessica couldn’t believe it. Enraged, she jumped from the sofa where the two of them had been sitting and leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the room. “And why not?” she demanded. “Don’t your parents let you out of the house on Saturday nights?”

  “Sure…” he began weakly.

  “Oh, I see,” Jessica continued, answering for him. “It’s all so perfectly clear I should have suspected it a long time ago.” She began to pace back and forth across the outer office. “There’s another girl, right? Your weekend sweetie, who’s away during the rest of the week. And so poor Dennis, who was all alon
e and feeling sorry for himself, had to find someone else to keep him occupied. And who should come along but sweet, unsuspecting little old me.” Jessica’s voice chilled. “Well, you can forget about it because I won’t stand for it a second longer.” She stormed to the closet and grabbed her pocketbook and sweater.

  She was reaching for the door handle when Dennis rose and shouted, “Stop!”

  Jessica halted in her tracks. “What else could you possibly have to say to me?” she hissed.

  “Hear me out, please,” Dennis begged. “I know you’re probably going to walk out of here anyway, but maybe you won’t hate me as much after you hear what I’ve got to tell you.”

  “I can’t imagine it’ll make a difference,” she said. Nevertheless, she walked back to the sofa and lowered herself onto one of the arms. “But go ahead. Shoot.”

  Dennis fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt, trying to decide where to begin. “I like you, Jess. Really, I do. Believe me, you’re the only girl in my life.”

  “But you can’t stand the idea of hanging out with me in public,” Jessica spat. “What’s the matter? Not good enough for you or something?”

  “Don’t be silly, Jess. Please let me go on,” Dennis pleaded. “I’d love to take you out. To the dance or to the beach or whatever. But I can’t. See … I told you I had a car, but I don’t.”

  Jessica rolled her eyes. “Is that all?” she exclaimed. “That’s no big deal. Can’t you borrow your dad’s?”

  “No,” he said.

  Jessica thought a moment. She didn’t like having to do this, but if it was the only way she could get Dennis to the dance.… “I could pick you up in my car, and then you could drive us—”

  Dennis shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. Not only don’t I have a car, I don’t have a driver’s license. I just turned fifteen.”

  “Oh.” Jessica was at a rare loss for words. For a long time she just stared at him, looking at the boy she’d assumed was close to eighteen in a completely new light. “That does change things, doesn’t it?”

  “I hope you don’t hate me,” Dennis said timidly, his age clearly showing through his crumbled facade of confidence.

  “How did you think you could get away with it?” Jessica asked.

  “I know how you must feel, a girl like you finding out she’s been hanging out with a kid—especially when you thought I was much older. I realized you’d dump me if I told you the truth, so I kept my mouth shut. I figured if I could hide my age until I got my learner’s permit, it might make a difference. If it still matters to you,” he added hopefully, “I start driver’s ed in two months.”

  Jessica took in Dennis’s words with conflicting emotions. She liked him. She really did. And part of her still wanted Dennis at her side during the Bart dance. But what would everyone say when they found out her date wasn’t even old enough to drive? She could just picture the look on Lila’s face. Besides, Dennis had had the nerve to keep the truth from her all these weeks.

  Jessica Wakefield was the picture of innocence wronged. Keeping her voice hard, she addressed Dennis for the last time. “It’s too late for true confessions,” she told him. “Goodbye, Dennis.” Quickly she ran for the elevator, hoping it would arrive before Dennis had a chance to catch up to her—and see the tears welling in her eyes.

  Eleven

  No one could have asked for a finer day for the thirty-first running of the Bart. Marshmallow-white clouds dotted the sky, keeping the temperature from rising too high. A slight breeze blew in from the ocean, making the air comfortable for the crowds pouring into the Sweet Valley College stadium.

  The multitiered stands were divided into rooting sections for the five participating schools. The Sweet Valley High contingent was situated in one of the areas closest to the field. Several signs reading We Love You Bruce and Tony were being unfurled, although a few diehards who hadn’t believed the rumor that Roger had dropped out of the race also held up banners with his name on them.

  Elizabeth and Todd found seats toward the top of the Sweet Valley section. Todd scanned the faces below them and was surprised to see Jessica along with the other cheerleaders. “I thought she was married to that job of hers these days,” he noted.

  “She quit, Todd,” Elizabeth told him.

  “The law not her cup of tea?” From the way he said it, he made it clear that he found Jessica’s decision not at all surprising.

  “I’m not convinced it ever was,” Elizabeth said. “The only reason she worked as long as she did was because of a guy.”

  “I should have suspected there was a guy involved. There always seems to be.” Todd raised an eyebrow. “What happened? Did he try to take advantage of her?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Not in the way you think.” Elizabeth related Jessica’s version of what had happened the night before.

  “And of course your twin can’t stand the thought of being with a younger man,” Todd concluded.

  Elizabeth sighed, remembering the sadness she’d heard in Jessica’s voice. “I think she really liked him, Todd. But Jess considers being fifteen a handicap no boy could ever overcome. She hasn’t had the best of luck with guys lately, and she feels a lot of people around here might conclude she was so desperate for someone that she settled for a younger guy. Imagine how humiliated she’d feel chauffeuring him around everywhere.” Elizabeth shook her head, her blond ponytail swinging from one shoulder to the other. “It’s a shame, though. I think if it had happened to me, I would have said the heck with what anyone says and gone out with him anyway.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I see you snuggling up to a ninth grader,” Todd kidded.

  Elizabeth grabbed Todd’s hand and squeezed it playfully. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much if I were you. But seriously, Todd, I feel bad for Jess. She seemed pretty upset this morning.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t waste my time feeling sorry for your sister,” Todd said. “Knowing Jessica, she’ll be after someone else before the day’s out.”

  * * *

  Dressed in her red and white uniform, Jessica was in the middle of a last-minute practice with her squad before the bulk of the crowd arrived. She figured the cheering would keep her busy—busy enough, she hoped, to recover from the latest disappointment in her life. As the stands began to fill up, she felt her spirits rise. With five high schools’ worth of boys to feast her eyes on, she realized that getting Dennis Creighton out of her system would be much easier than she’d thought.

  Standing as close to Jessica as possible was Annie Whitman, wearing a minidress short enough to make her a girl watcher’s delight. But boys were the farthest thing from Annie’s mind this morning. All her energy was focused on Jessica and the other cheerleaders as they went through their routines, and she even tried running through some of the motions herself. Tryouts for the cheerleading squad were coming up soon, and Annie wanted to be sure she had all the moves down perfectly. Several times she tried to get Jessica’s attention, but Jessica either didn’t hear her or pretended not to.

  On the field, Coach Schultz was giving a final pep talk to Bruce Patman and Tony Esteban. Then, looking supremely confident, Bruce took off his warm-up suit and headed toward the starting line. Because of the number of boys in competition, the race was to be run in heats, and he was one of the participants in the first heat. The top three finishers of both heats would then square off in the final race, and the winner would be awarded the silver trophy displayed on the judges’ table—and the scholarship to Sweet Valley College.

  Anticipation was in the air. Jessica led the Sweet Valley crowd in the chant, “Go, Bruce, go.” With Roger apparently out of the picture, Bruce was Sweet Valley’s only real hope for victory, and all eyes were on him.

  That was exactly the way he liked it. The dark-haired boy smiled to his fans and even waved as he did a few jogging steps for the crowd.

  “Look at that guy,” Todd said disgustedly to Elizabeth, “playing to the crowd as usual. He’
s going to burn himself up.”

  “I don’t know,” Elizabeth said. “I really think he wants to win this one. You know how big his ego can be.”

  “Well, we’ll see soon enough. They’re getting ready to start.”

  There were the obligatory introductions and the playing of the national anthem before the first race got under way. The stadium was eerily silent as the main judge raised his starter’s pistol in the air. “On your mark, get set, go!”

  The runners were off. Having learned a lesson from his race with Roger, Bruce held back at first, letting Joe Epson, one of the runners from El Carro High, fly into the lead. The coach had told him that the boy was known for fast starts but that his staying power was questionable. So Bruce concentrated on keeping his stamina and remaining just far enough behind Epson to make the other boy feel overconfident. He spent the early part of the race jockeying for second with two other boys. It was exactly where he wanted to be.

  By the half-mile mark, however, it had obviously become a two-person race. The other boys, now visibly tiring, began to drift farther behind the leaders. One boy from Palisades High, the apparent victim of a muscle pull, even had to drop out, much to the disappointment of his school.

  Bruce finally made his move on the final lap. Coming into the final turn, he bore down as hard as he could, and with a burst of reserved speed flashed by Joe Epson. Bruce finished a good three seconds ahead of him and fell into the arms of his teammate Tony as the crowd roared its approval.

  “You made it, amigo,” Tony congratulated him.

  Still puffing, Bruce said, “It’s only the beginning. I expect to see you running next to me in the finals. Go to it, Esteban.”

  Because Tony was not expected to do well, the enthusiasm in the Sweet Valley stands for the second heat was considerably weaker. If it hadn’t been for the announcement over the loudspeaker, many of the students might not even have realized their star miler was running after all.

  “… and in lane seven is Roger Barrett from Sweet Valley High.”