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Authors: Sheri Cobb South

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BOOK: Don't Bet On Love
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I heaved a sigh.

That’s exactly what I told Mark. But does he ever listen to me? Oh, no!


What does Mark have to do with it?

Beth asked, puzzled.


My idiot brother bet two of his friends twenty dollars that Colette would go to the
prom with Gary,

I said.


You’re kidding!

Jan rolled her eyes.

What a stupid waste of money!


Just what would you consider a
smart
waste of money?

Beth challenged Jan.

I think it’s sweet that Mark has so much faith
in his friend.


You wouldn’t think it was so sweet if he’d volunteered
you
to turn Gary into Colette Carroll’s dream date,

I said bitterly.


He didn’t!

Jan gasped.

I nodded.

He did.


And you actually agreed to do it?

Jan asked, incredulous.


I had to.

I sighed.

I still owe Mark twenty-five dollars for that traffic ticket I got last month. He said if I didn’t pay up right away, he

d tell Mom and Dad about it—
unless
I helped him win his bet.


And is Gary aware of this bet?

asked Beth.


Yup.


Well, maybe Mark was just teasing you,

Beth suggested.

I mean, he can’t expect you to work miracles!


Oh, can’t he? You obviously don’t know my brother,

I said wearily.


Cheer up, Molly,

Jan said, patting my hand. “
You know how guys are—it was probably just a lot of meaningless locker-room talk, and Mark’s forgotten all about it by now.

Feeling a little better, I asked,

Do you really think so?

Both Beth and Jan nodded vigorously, and Beth said,

I’m sure you don’t have a thing to worry about.

I c
ertainly hoped they were right!

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

All afternoon I thought about what Jan and Beth had said, and by
the time I got home from school,
I’d almost convinced myself that I had nothing to worry about. After all, the prom was still two months away, and there were plenty of other things going on between now and then. For one thing, we’d be getting our class rings any day now, and Mark, Gary, and the other basketball players would be kept busy for several more weeks with end-of-season games. Mark might be a few minutes older than me, but he wasn’t all that differe
nt from the two-year-old I some
times baby-sat. He had a short attention span, and it didn’t take much to distr
act
him.

But when Mark got home fifteen minutes later, I discovered that it was going to take more than a class ring or basketball games to make him forget about his latest scheme.


Here he is!

Mark announced, bursting
into the den where I sat struggling with my algebra homework.

The newest Casanova of
Carson High School—and what a guy! Gary
Hadley!

A moment later, the newest Casa
nova of Carson High appeared in
the doorway—and tripped over the low step leading down into our sunken den.


Watch out!

Mark warned about two sec
onds too late.


Sorry about that,

Gary mumbled, awk
wardly recovering his balance.

I looked at him with a sinking feeling in the pit of
my stomach. He was even less at
tractive than I had remembered: six and a half feet tall and rail thin, with an unruly mop of thick, reddish-brown hair that was much too
long, and a beak of a nose sup
porting the ugliest glasses known to mankind. Gary Hadley didn’t need a girl to transform him; he needed a magician!


Hi, Molly,

he said, s
quirming uncomfort
ably under my examination.

Mark said you could get me in shape for the prom. Do you really think Colette might go with me?


Do you believe in miracles?

I countered.


It’ll take a miracle, that’s for sure,

Gary said with a sigh.

Anyway, thanks for your help.


Save your thanks for Mark,

I said curtly.

It was his idea, not mine.


I’m starving,

Mark cut in.

Do you want anything to eat, Gary?


No thanks, but I could use something to drink, if it’s not too much trouble,

Gary said.


No problem,

Mark assured him.

Molly will help me, won’t you, Moll?

Smiling at me with clenched teeth, Mark grabbed my arm and hauled me out of the room and down the hall to the kitchen. Once there, he dropped any pretense of brotherly affection.


Is it asking too much for you not to be rude?

he snapped angrily.


Who’s being rude?

I asked, lowering my voice to match his.

I simply told him the truth, that’s all.


Well, you could be a little nicer, you know. After all, Gary’s a friend of mine!


Oh, he is, is he?

I asked, raising my eyebrows in mock surprise.

It seems to me that if he
really
were your friend, you’d be trying to talk him out of this crazy scheme instead of encouraging him!


What’s crazy about it? Gary just needs some pointers on how to get his girl, that’s all. What’s wrong with that?


Nothing, if it were anybody else. But
look
at him, Mark! Surely even
you
can see that he’s hopeless!

A slight sound interrupted us, and we both whirled around guiltily to find Gary standing there, shuffling his huge feet uncomfortably. I
tried to judge from his expres
sion whether he’d heard my last remark, but his eyes, distorted by the thick lenses of his glasses, were impossible to read.


Sorry to take so long,

Mark said, making a quick recovery.

Do you want soda or iced tea?

Gary
chose soda, and I began to fill a glass with ice, more to avoid conversation with him than from any desire to play hostess. Unfortunately, my brother was wise to my tactics.


The way I see it,
we’ve still got two months before prom night,

Mark said.

That should
give you plenty of time to pre
pare. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you guys alone to work out the details.

Before I could argue, Mark made a quick exit.


I thought he was starving,

I muttered under my breath.

I filled Gary’s glass with soda, then returned the bottle to the pantry. When I came back, Gary was leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms folded, eyeing me intently.


You really don’t want to do this, do you, Molly?

he asked.

All right
, I thought.
If he’s going to be frank, so am I.


No, Gary, I don’t,

I said.


Then why did you agree to it?


Blackmail,

I said grimly.

Mark paid a speeding fine for me, and he won’t let me off the hook until I pay him back.


Gee. I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.


It’s not your fault,

I sighed.


Maybe if I talked to Mark



Absolutely not,

I said firmly.

This is between my brother and me. I’m not going to drag you into our family squabbles.

Gary smiled a little at that.

Don’t look now, but it seems like I’m already in.


Maybe so,

I admitted, forcing a smile of my own.

I don’t have anything against you personally, Gary,

I went on.

It’s just the principle of the thing. The very idea of betting money on whether or not a girl will go out with a guy is—well, tacky, to say the least.

Gary
nodded sheepishly.

I guess maybe you’re right. But the bet wasn’t my idea, you know. It was Mark’s.


Why doesn’t that surprise me?

I won
dered aloud.

Still, you could have refused to go along with it.


Yeah, I guess I could have,

Gary admit
ted.

But to tell you the truth, I kind of liked the idea. Besides, I didn’t want to let Mark down after he laid twenty bucks on the line. Let’s fa
ce it—would
you
bet money on Co
lette going out with me?


But if you don’t think he can win, why did you agree to it?

I asked.


Well, when Mark said you’d help me, I thought maybe there was a chance.

A deep flush crept up Gary’s ne
ck and spread across his face. “
You see, I’ve—I’ve been crazy about Colette since the first time I saw her, but she doesn’t even know I exist. I mean, why should she? There’s nothing special about me at all.

I’d been determined to figure out some way of wiggling out of the deal, but now I began to have second thoughts. I don’t know exactly what weakened my resolve. Maybe it was because Gary was so different from the rest of Mark’s friends, who all tried to act like they were
very
special.

First there was Eddie, who lettered in three sports and considered himself a sort of superjock. And then there was Steve, who looked like a male model and was more vain about his appearance than most
girls
I knew. As for Mark, he was good-looking, too, and he knew it. He also seemed to think he was some kind of financial wizard. In a world full of guys all trying
to act super cool,
Gary’s total lack of pretension was a refreshing change.


Well,

I said at last,

I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try.

Gary looked at me in amazement.

You mean you’ll help me?

I took a deep breath and resigned myself to the inevitable.

Yes, I’ll do it. That is, I’ll
try
to do it,

I amended hastily.

But remem
ber, no promises.


Hey, that’s great, Molly.
...

In his en
thusiasm, Gary flung out his long arms. One elbow connected with his glass and knocked it over, sending ice cubes and soda streaming across the kitchen counter.

Oops!

I grabbed a dishtowel and tried to mop it up before it ran onto the floor.


I’m awfully sorry
…” Gary began.


Never mind,

I said with a sigh, already regretting my moment of weakness.

It was an accident. It could h
ave happened to anybody—almost.”

Gary swung around the counter to help with the cleanup and almost knocked me over as I was just finishing up.


Sorry,

he mumbled.


Gary, you’ve got to stop saying you’re
sorry all the time,

I told him.

If you want Colette Carroll to take you seriously, you have to stop apologizing for being alive!

Gary
looked mildly surprised.

Was I doing
that? I’m—


Don’t say it!

I interrupted, throwing up
a hand to stop him.

Come on—we might as
well get started.

I poured him another soda, then led the way back to the den. I cleared my books and notebooks off the couch so he could sit down.


Algebra,

I mumbled, stacking up some scattered papers.


If you’re having trouble, I’d be glad to help you,

Gary offered.

After all, I owe you one.


You mean you actually understand this stuff?

I asked, looking at him with new respect.


Oh, sure! What are you having trouble with?

Gary had never struck me as any kind of a genius, but since I was barely squeaking by with C’s, I couldn’t afford to be choosy.


Factoring polynomials,

I said, showing him the problem I’d been working on ever since I’d come home from school.

I’ve done
this thing three times, and I come up with different answer every time.

For the next twenty minutes we tackled my algebra homework. To my surprise,
Gary
turned out to be an excellent tutor. He never talked over my head like my algebra teacher sometimes did, and he didn’t treat me as if I were stupid when I made dumb mistakes. In fact, he was much nicer to me than I deserved.


I think I’ve got it!

I cried triumphantly when the next problem worked out right on the very first try.

Thanks loads, Gary.

He shrugged.

Hey, algebra’s no problem—
it’s
girls
that I can’t figure out.


So, tell me about you and Colette,

I prompted him.

If I’m going to try to get you two together, I need some background.


Well, you know she transferred to Carson High last spring,

Gary began, leaning back on the couch with a dreamy expression on his face.

I’ll never forget the first time I saw her. It was in driver’s ed, and it was my turn to drive. Colette climbed into the backseat and said, ‘Well, it looks like we’ll be driving partners.’ I took one look at her in my rear view mirror, and when I saw how gorgeous she was, I got
so flustered that I put the car in
reverse instead of forward and crashed
rig
ht into the side of a building.”


I remember hearing something about
that,

I said, tr
ying hard not to laugh.


Yeah, t
he whole school heard about it!” G
ary said with a rueful smile.

That got Co
lette’s attention, all right.

The smile faded.

But then she asked for another driving partner. And she hasn’t spoken to me since.


Well, you can’t go on crashing cars just to keep her attention,

I pointed out.

Do you have any classes with her this semester?


We’re both in Mrs. Adamson’s fourth period history class, but we sit on opposite sides of the room,

Gary said.

Her locker is close to mine, though, so I see her in the hall several times a day.


You said she doesn’t speak to you. Do you speak to
her
?

“Well, I try,”
he said.

The only trouble is, she’s so beautiful that I get all choked up and can’t think of anything to say.

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