Read Online Not Exactly a Love Story by Audrey Couloumbis - Free Book Online

year?—sat surprised for a moment, then began to shout and clap. Patsy hopped around in her seat, amazingly uncool.
    A moment later, the senior who carried the ball broke from the lines, making her run for a touchdown. In an instant the game resumed.
    The cancan paused the game a couple of times more.Then, during the downtime of the first penalty, boys broke out from behind the bleachers.
    They were dressed as cheerleaders in short skirts and headgear that held little mop-like ponytails over their ears. The crowd roared as they executed a routine with surprising grace.
    At halftime a small white poodle came scampering out onto the field, its sharp, high-pitched yapping carrying over the crowd.
    A blonde came out next, a Monroe look-alike, okay, but also like Marilyn in the way she moved. She called in a barely heard but unhurried voice—unmistakably Marilyn’s.
    Five minutes of slapstick followed as the male cheerleaders tried to help grab the runaway. Marilyn tried to entice the dog back to her by squeaking a rubber toy. The dog wouldn’t be captured.
    Finally both ran off the field, Marilyn gimpily chasing the animal with one of her high heels held overhead. Belatedly, I looked down to catch Patsy’s reaction, and saw she wasn’t in place on the bleachers anymore.
    Early in the fourth quarter, the juniors made a bold and successful move to take the ball. Parents stood up and cheered them on.
    Right in the middle of the run, the poodle came back, Marilyn—Patsy!—coming along behind it. As the juniors’ ambitious play went on, Marilyn and the dog continued up the sidelines.
    The dog veered onto the field, and Marilyn changeddirection, running straight into the path of the oncoming teams. The dog escaped, but Patsy went down, with the players piling up on top of her.
    It brought everyone in the stands to their feet. It brought me to mine. Was this even part of the plan?
    The noise was incredible.
    The dog ran up on top of the heaped players and down the other side, going to somebody on the bench with a dog whistle in her mouth. The players rolled away, picking themselves up. Marilyn also picked herself up. She smoothed her skirt, fluffed her hair, and strolled off the field. If it was theater, I could say she brought the house down. Even Mom was up on her feet, applauding and laughing until Patsy was out of sight.
    The rest of the game was fast and furious, with seniors taking the last point they needed to win.

TWENTY-TWO
    11:58. I wondered if there’d be a coy invitation to say something nice about Patsy’s performance at the game. If I still had a shot at convincing her I wasn’t a fellow student. I wondered if I wanted to.
    11:59. Countdown. Lights out. I rolled onto my side and dialed.
    12:00. Ringing.
    “Hello?”
    “It’s me.”
    “Like I wouldn’t know,” she said. I heard a little tapping sound, like a tiny woodpecker hammering away. Fingernail on the receiver, I guessed. “You saw the name Patsy and you called, not knowing if I’m ten years younger than you or ten years older?”
    “Age isn’t a relevant factor in an obscene phone call.” I wanted to add
which I did not mean to make
.
    “Just your first name. So I have something to call you.”
    “Pick any name you like.”
    “You know my name,” she said in a wheedling tone.
    She wasn’t going to mention the game? Or the part she played? I didn’t know why. Unless she was waiting to see if I’d bring it up. It was a little trap she’d laid for me. One that indicated she still wasn’t sure I was a fellow student.
    Should I admit to being there? Or keep her wondering. It would never have occurred to me to give an obscene caller credit for being smart, but they had to think fast.
    “Probably it’s not a very interesting name.”
    “Italian,” I said.
    “What?”
    “My name is Italian.” I punched the mattress.
What
a stupid thing to say.
    “Are you serious?” And then, “It just doesn’t fit the picture I have of