Gabrielle's Bully (Young Adult Romance) (16 page)

“Aren’t your parents worried about him?”

“They’re hoping it’s a phase. I guess if he’s still working on Wolfman models when he’s twenty they’ll take him to a psychiatrist.”

“If he keeps it up,” Barb said, “you’ll need one long before then.”

“I think I need one now,” I said dramatically.

Barb painted one nail and splayed her fingers to examine the effect. “No, you don’t, dear.
 
It’s just love.”

I got off the bed and pulled open my closet. “What should I wear tomorrow?”

“Something to give you a little cleavage?” she suggested, grinning.

“Barb, we both know there is nothing to cleave,” I said disgustedly. Did she have to rub it in?

“I’m sorry,” she said contritely, her smile vanishing. “Sensitive subject, I know. But I wish you would see the advantages of your figure. You can wear all those little tailored blouses that look so cute with jeans. When I try to squeeze into them I just wind up spraying the room with buttons.”

To me, that was not a problem. I should have such a problem.

“I really sympathize with you, Barb,” I said sarcastically.

She finished one hand and started on the other. “Hey, what are you worried about? As long as Heath likes the way you look, you’re okay. Not all guys are crazy about busty types. Look at all the models in the magazines. They’re flatter than you are and they’re making a fortune.”

She sounded like my mother. Whenever I complained about my figure she rattled off a long list of famous people, starting with Audrey Hepburn and ending with Lauren Hutton, who shared my lack of development. This was supposed to make me feel better, but it didn’t. All it showed me was that I had a problem in common with a number of celebrities. Maybe they had sinusitis, too. So what?

Barbara put the bottle back and noticed Heath’s book on my dressing table. “What’s this?”

“It’s Heath’s book.” I took it from her and turned to the picture of Hippolyta, handing it back to her. “See that? Heath thinks I look like her.”

She studied the illustration, and then looked up at me. “Oh, Gaby, he’s really gone on you, isn’t he?”

I stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that it’s so romantic—to see this, and think of you, and tell you about it. You don’t appreciate him, that’s your problem. If Mike ever did something like this I’d die of happiness. He’s always talking, but it’s jokes and stories and funny lines all the time. I wish you would wake up and realize what you’ve got instead of ruining everything with doubts and fears.”

She was very serious, and I thought about what she’d said after she left, and for the rest of the day. The house was silent with everyone else gone, and I made myself a sandwich and a cup of tea, taking the snack into the den and setting it up on a folding table. Then I sat and stared at it, while the tea grew cold and the lettuce wilted between the slices of bread. Was Barbara right? Was I being foolish to think so much about all of this? But it was my nature, how could I stop? I finally lay down on the couch and took a nap until my parents and Craig returned.

My mother made something to eat when they got home, and I helped her straighten the kitchen afterward. She was very quiet, and I sensed that something was coming when she said, “Sarah told me something interesting today. You know her sister, the one married to the doctor? Well, they live in the same complex as Heath and his father.”

“Really?” I said neutrally. Get on with it, Mom.

“Yes, and she said that Heath’s parents were divorced for a long time before his mother died. Did you know that?”

“Yes, mother, I knew that,” I said patiently. The question was, how much did she know? All of it, apparently, from her next statement.

“Sarah said that it was a second marriage for both his parents, and that Heath’s father’s current friend is quite a bit younger than he is. That must be the Lois who went to the club with you, right?”

Sarah must have had quite a chatty afternoon. I needed to remember to thank her when I saw her again.

“So?” I responded.

My mother turned to face me. “It didn’t occur to you to tell me any of this?”

“Why should I tell you? It’s none of your business.”

Bad move, Gaby. My mother’s face closed and she said in a tight, controlled voice, “I’ll thank you not to take that tone with me, young lady. I’m only concerned about you. I’m wondering if a boy like that is a... suitable . . . friend for you.”

“Suitable friend! A boy like
what
? While we’re on the subject of friends, maybe you ought to take a look at your own. What kind of a person is Sarah to gossip like that, and tear apart people she doesn’t even know? All that running back and forth to church isn’t doing her any good. ‘Judge not, lest ye be judged.’ I don’t think she’s paying much attention to the sermons.”

My mother shut the refrigerator door with a bang. “Don’t change the subject, Gaby. We were talking about Heath. His background is very different from yours, and I don’t want you associating with the wrong type of person.”

Even though I had known my mother would react like this, hearing her say these things upset me. “How can you be so unfair?” I demanded. “Heath is not responsible for what his parents did, or didn’t do. And I know this may come as a shock to you, but there are quite a few people who don’t regard divorce as a capital crime. And some actually think people can date people younger than they are without being shot at dawn.”

Mom leaned against the refrigerator and folded her arms. “Sarcasm does not become you, Gabrielle.”

I bit my lip, trying to control my temper. I knew that I was handling this all wrong. Mouthing off to my mother would only convince her that she was right; she would doubtless blame Heath for my lack of respect. I couldn’t seem to help myself lately, any criticism of Heath just sent me into a frenzy. I thought suddenly of the scene with Jeff at The Barn. With my luck, my mother would get the word on that sooner or later. Sarah was probably crouched behind the cash register with a tape recorder.

I came back to the present when I realized my mother was asking me a question.

“What?” I said, straightening up and trying to look interested.

“I said, are you going with Barbara to your game tomorrow afternoon, or will you need a ride?”

Thank God, she had gotten off the topic of Heath. I hoped that she would drop it entirely.

“We’re just going to stay after class, get in some practice before the game. I’ll bring my stuff with me.”

“All right.” She examined me closely, and then said quietly, “I know how you feel about Heath, dear, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t take an interest in your friends. I’m certainly not going to forbid you to see him, but promise me that you’ll be careful.”

Careful about what? I wasn’t sure what she meant but I didn’t want to get into any further discussion, so I merely said, “I promise.”

She seemed satisfied with that, and I escaped to my room, where I plotted various horrible fates for Sarah. After indulging in lurid revenge fantasies for a while, I got out my books and did my homework.

* * *

I waited for Jeff to start something after Mackley’s class the next day, but he went straight out as the bell rang, vanishing into the crowd. I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled when I saw Heath, who smiled back, putting his arm around me.

“That’s better,” he said. “After the way we left things the other night and the quick brush-off on the phone yesterday, I wasn’t sure you were speaking to me.”

“Don’t be silly,” I answered. “Barbara was at the house, I didn’t want to leave her sitting there while I carried on a long conversation with you.”

“Okay,” he said. “Enough said. I hope you’re in good form for your game this afternoon. Dalton and I are going to be there.”

I’d had a feeling he was going to show. The thought of Heath sitting in the stands watching me dash around on the court made me very nervous. I understood how he felt about his first game. It’s one thing to screw up, but to screw up with a bleacher full of onlookers taking notes was something else. The girls’ games didn’t attract the crowd that the male varsity games did, but for me Heath’s presence was the equivalent of an audience of thousands.

He saw my expression and said, “Hey, relax. I promise I won’t boo or throw tomatoes.”

I didn’t answer.

He stopped short, which caused a tiny freshman walking behind us to crash into him. He steadied the girl on her feet while she turned bright red and dropped her lunch bag. Heath picked it up and asked her if she was all right. The girl nodded, swallowing hard, and ran off down the hall.

Heath laughed shortly. “Was it something I said?”

I saw the incident from the girl’s point of view. Everybody knew who Heath was now, and his contact with the girl had been a big adventure for her. She could hardly wait to tell her little friends about her encounter with Heath Lindsay, senior basketball star.

“As I was about to say,” Heath went on, “I won’t come to the game if you’d rather I didn’t.”

“Oh, that’s not it,” I said anxiously. “It’s just that having somebody I know there to watch me makes me a little nervous, that’s all.”

“A little nervous” was an understatement. My parents had come to see me play twice. On the initial occasion I had fouled out of the game in the first half, and the second time I had blown four free throws in a row. What would I do with Heath there? Destroy the gym?

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Heath said.

“Oh, really? I seem to recall you had a case of the jitters the night before your game.”

He saluted me like General de Gaulle. “Touché. I stand corrected.”

We were approaching his class. I wouldn’t see him again until after school. “Did you see Mike this morning? Did he say anything about Jeff?”

Heath smiled dryly. “Yeah, I saw him, but he didn’t say anything. You know Dalton, the diplomat. He walks a line right down the middle and stays friends with everybody. There’s a future for him in politics.”

I had to laugh. He had Mike’s number, all right.

We said goodbye and I went on to lunch alone.

* * *

Barbara and I arrived early to get ready for our game. The visiting team wasn’t due in until three-thirty, so we had half an hour to practice before show time.

The gym began to fill up about three-fifteen. It was the usual early season crowd, come to see the little girlies stumble around. Once they discovered we actually could play and there was nothing remarkable to see, the novelty wore off and only the regulars remained. They usually included the boyfriends of the girls playing, their relatives and friends, and a few diehard basketball fans who would show to see anybody play anything resembling the game.

I saw Heath and Mike come in and take spots at center court. I nudged Barbara and she peered myopically in the direction I indicated, obviously unable to see anything except a multicolored blur. She always put her glasses on at the last minute, strapping them to her head with an elastic band. She had tried wearing contact lenses in a game once, and her left one had popped out, halting play for several minutes while everyone crawled around on the floor looking for it. After that, Miss Aynsley had asked Barb to wear her glasses.

“Put your glasses on,” I said. “Mike’s going to see you in them in a minute anyway, as soon as the game starts.”

She muttered something under her breath, but complied.

“Right behind the midline,” I added.

She saw the guys and turned to me, making a face. “They look like they’re having a great time. I wish I could say the same.”

Mike had never seen her play, either. She started going with him after the end of the season last year.

“We who are about to die salute you,” I said. Barb and I had been in the same Ancient History class. She laughed grimly.

When the other team took the floor we knew we were in big trouble. They were all nine feet tall. I swear there wasn’t a player who wasn’t an Amazon (about whom I knew after being introduced to Hippolyta). We had never played this school before; the conference had been reorganized over the summer and it now included new teams. I took one look at the opposition and immediately preferred the old schedule.

It was a disaster from the word go. We tried, but they were simply too tall for us. I felt like a midget running around trying to steal the ball from superwomen. They dominated the game and won easily. We scored a few lucky points. I even did well considering the situation, making five goals on distance shots since they never let up enough to let us get close. When the massacre was over the board read: Visitors 46, Home 20.

We hit the showers in low spirits. The visiting team used the boys’ locker room and we could hear them distantly, whooping and hollering, congratulating themselves.

“Sure, sure, laugh it up,” Barb said sourly, listening to them as we got dressed. “It’s a long trip back to The Land of the Giants.”

“What do they eat, to get that size?” I said.

“Whatever it is we should order some,” Barb answered.

“No thanks, I’m tall enough.”

She turned and stared at me. “How can you say that, after seeing that bunch?
That
is tall.”