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"She said a lot of things. So what?" I muttered. "I'm sure you tell people you're going to be a sports star or something, don't you?"
He laughed. "I am."
"Yeah, right," I said.
He sat upright and leaned toward me. "Don't be so cynical," he said. "It's not attractive, and you can be very attractive."
I looked at him askance. "Yeah, right," I repeated, but not with the same enthusiasm. Whether he was being truthful or not, I liked hearing it.
"I noticed how you've changed, improved your looks. You have a good teacher."
"What's that's supposed to mean?"
"What is it Karen always says? Don't be thick? I know you've been talking to her all this time. Don't deny it," he added quickly, his hand up with the palm toward me. "You know a lot more than people think. You must have lied to the police."
"I didn't lie. I just . ."
"Didn't tell them everything? See? You can do it."
I looked at him, at his impish smile. His eyes were beautiful. He's the one who could be a movie star, I thought. Maybe he would be. Maybe he was one of those people who would become what he dreamed of becoming. Karen always talked about some people being touched by an angel.
"Just one touch will do it," she said. "The luckier ones, are kissed on the forehead while they sleep. They feel it, but they think it was a dream."
I didn't realize I was staring at him, but he did. He smiled and reached for my hand.
"Well?" he said, toying with my fingers. "Are you going to be there?"
"I don't know," I said weakly.
He pulled his hand from mine "I'll be there at seven-thirty. Be there, or be square," he said, standing.
I didn't answer. He started away. I watched him saunter back to the school door, pause, look back at me to flash a smile, and then go inside. I didn't move until the bell rang to return to class. It didn't matter that I had nothing for lunch, either. I didn't think I could hold down a piece of bread. My stomach was in just that much turmoil. I thought every organ in my body was twitching the remainder of the school day.
When the final bell rang, I sighed with relief and hurried out, anxious to get home.
I knew that by the time I arrived at my house, my mother would be at her shift in the hospital, and my father would still be at work, so I would have time alone to think. I practically leaped out of the bus when it pulled up to my driveway. Head down, I charged up the walkway and unlocked the front door. I was on my way to the kitchen to get myself a cold drink. I thought maybe some milk would settle my stomach.
"Hi," I heard as I started past the living room. I paused and looked in to see Karen sitting on the sofa, looking relaxed and casual. She had one of my mother's recent movie magazines in her lap and a glass of lemonade in her hand. Anyone looking at her would think there was absolutely nothing wrong, nothing different about her or me.
"Karen!"
"Herself," she said, smiling.
"Where have you been?"
"I understand you did a good job with the tape recorder," she replied, instead of answering.
I entered the living room. She was wearing one of her own skirts and one of her own blouses. She had neither when she had come here.
"Where were you last night?"
She set the glass of lemonade on the coffee table and picked up a key to show me.
"Harry's mother's apartment," she said. "I had to apologize to his mother," she said, smiling.
"What?"
I sat, or rather flopped, on my father's recliner and clutched my books against my body.
