expressionless mask. Lynda felt her stomach lurch, but her mouth kept right on going. “Sorry. I guess I should have said, ‘nervous.'”
Without another word, Greg scooped up his backpack and stalked out of the lobby.
Suddenly aware that everyone in the room was watching, Lynda lifted her chin and walked regally into the feline holding area. Using all her restraint, she did not slam the door. She did, however, get the cages cleaned in record time. Even the scabbiest Tom took one look at her and decided to cooperate.
Finishing the cages a little after six, Lynda grabbed her backpack, threw on her jacket, and ran for the exit. A deep pitched rumble caught her attention as she pushed through the door, and she looked up in time to see the University bus pull away from the curb. She shouted and waved, but the bus disappeared around the corner.
Half an hour wait, at least. Lynda felt like hitting something, but took a deep breath, instead. The air smelled deliciously fresh, and she could almost taste the French fries from McDonald's across the street.
Her stomach growled. The way it felt, she'd starve before the next bus arrived. Lynda let her gaze drift down Ellis Avenue. In the street lights’ glow, she saw kids running, students strolling, a police car, and two campus security telephones. Forgetting her parents’ worries, Lynda zipped her jacket and started down the stairs. She thought about Greg's expression when she told him she could just as well walk. What would he say, she wondered, if he knew she had?
Interlude
AN ICY WIND whined outside his room, crept through the cracks in the window frame, and fluttered against the heavy curtains. They parted slightly. He stretched, yawned, and rolled over. Light brushed his face and disturbed his slumber. Snorting and shaking his head, he finally rose and lumbered to the window. A nearly full moon shone high above the buildings. Its glow, reflected and magnified by a fresh layer of snow, made it bright enough to read the lettering on the dumpster outside. His winter languor melted, and the desire to wander surged through him. Padding quietly from the room, he stole into the night.
Chapter 7
DECEMBER CREPT by. Angry at both Greg and herself, Lynda ate lunch every day in Mr. Pullman's room. She didn't want to see Greg, didn't want to deal with the tangle of feelings she had for him.
She didn't realize Greg had been avoiding her until she completed the series of labs and he returned to class. Sitting next to her, gaze riveted on the board, Greg did a good job of impersonating a statue. After a few half-hearted attempts at conversation, Lynda did her best to copy him.
On the last day of class before winter break, Mr. Pull-man announced that for the next unit he would expect partners to research topics and present oral reports in lieu of labs. Lynda glanced at Greg's rocklike profile and sighed. How could she prepare a presentation with someone who wouldn't speak to her?
But over the break, Lynda began to worry less about the reports and more about her lab partner. What kind of friend was she, she wondered, to humiliate him in public like that? All Greg had done was try to make sure she got home safely.
The day after New Year's, Lynda spotted him on the way to school and ran to catch up with him. “Greg,” she panted. “Can I talk to you?”
Greg waited, but didn't meet her gaze. “I'm sorry I was such a jerk last quarter. I was mad about a lot of things—my dad mostly.” He looked up and his eyes blazed with ice blue longing. “Can we be friends again?”
“I'd like that,” she said, breathless in a way that had nothing to do with running.
The ice melted into a grin. “Good. I'll need your help staying awake in class.”
Before Lynda could figure out what that meant, Greg lifted her backpack from her shoulder and started trotting toward school. Running to keep up with him, she didn't have a chance to ask.
Lynda's questions multiplied throughout the day.
Margaret Atwood
Echo Freer
T.G. Ayer
Adrian D Roberts
Anita Shreve
Lia Marsh
Christina Crooks
David Smiedt
Tiffany Madison
Haruki Murakami