Don't Bet On Love (6 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

No matter how confused my feelings were, the fact remained that I still owed Mark money for that traffic ticket. Until I paid him off, I’d have to continue with Gary’s tutoring. So when Saturday morning rolled around. I collected my allowance from Dad and paid Mark his weekly installment of five dollars. I spent the next hour or so searching through my collection of cassettes for appropriate dance music, and by the time Gary arrived, I was prepared for our lesson.

After locking the door of the den against Mark’s prying eyes, I turned on the stereo,
popped a tape into the cassette deck, and turned to face my pupil.

“
Well, are you ready?
”
I asked as a pulsing rock ’n’ roll beat blasted out of the speakers.

Gary shrugged.
“
As ready as
I’ll
ever be
,
I guess. What do I do first?
”

So I showed him. Actually, the lesson wasn’t nearly as bad as I had been afraid it might be. Gary's size-fourteen feet did tend to get in the way a bit at times, but they didn’t do any permanent damage to mine, and Gary had a surprisingly good sense of rhythm. I felt sure that with practice, he wouldn’t have anything to be ashamed of on prom night. Of course, he probably wouldn't have Colette Carroll, either, but I certainly wasn’t going to bring that up.

“
Well, I guess that takes care of it,
”
I told Gary half an hour later.
“
I
think you’ll do just fine.
”

“
What about slow dancing?
”
he asked.

“
What about it?
”

“
Don’t they usually have some of that, too?
”

“
Well, yes, but
..
.
”

“
Then hadn't we better work on it?
”

It was a sensible request, but for some
r
eason I hesitated.
“
There’s really nothing to it, Gary,
”
I told him.
“
All you have to do is put your arms around her and sway back and forth. It’s a lot easier than what we've been doing.
”

“
Maybe so, but it would make me feel a whole lot better if we tried it just once. Isn't there some tape there that we could use?
”

“
I guess so,
”
I
said reluctantly.
“
Let me look.
”

I sorted thr
ough my collection again until I
found a suitable tape, a cassette containing a song called
“
No One in the World Like You.
”
As I selected the track and pushed the play button, I couldn't help contrasting the slow, romantic ballad to my dance partner. With his shaggy hair and Coke-bottle glasses, Gary certainly fit the title, although he probab
ly wasn’t exactly what the song
writer had in mind.

We spent t
he first few measures of the in
troduction ge
tting our feet in the proper po
sition and out of each other’s way. Once that was settled, Gary put his arms around me and drew me close. Because of the difference in our heights, the top of my head barely reached his shoulder. I had two choices: I
could either rest my head against his chest, or hold it at an uncomfortable angle as far away from him as I could get. I chose the latter.
Gary
must hav
e sensed my uneasi
ness, because at that moment he looked down at me and grinned.

“
I won’t bite you unless you bite me first,
”
he said.

I gl
anced up, about to make some re
sponse, and found Gary's face only inches from mine. Suddenly my heart was pounding so hard, I felt short of breath. I looked quickly away, confused by my reaction to his nearness. What was the matter with me, anyway? It was all so silly—this was only good old Ga
ry Hadley, and I was only a sub
stitute for Colette.

I forced myself to relax, and for the next few minutes we swayed back and forth in time to the music. Neither of us said a word. I figured that
Gary
was concentrating on keeping his feet out of my way. As for me, I couldn’t have spoken if my life depended on it. It would have been impossible to carry on a conversation while my insides were turning to mush.

At last the final notes of the song faded
away, but for a moment we just stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Suddenly there was a loud pounding on the door.
“
Aren't you guys finished yet?
”
Mark demanded from the other side.
“
The
baseball game I wanted to watch came on TV ten minutes ago!
”

The spell was broken, and I took a wobbly step backward out of Gary's embrace.

“
Anyway, that's how i
t’s done,
”
I said, then hurried to unlock the door.

Mark strode across the den and headed straight for the television. He turned it on and switched channels until he found his game, then
planted himself on the couch

Gary flopped down beside him.
“
Who’s playing?
”
he asked, apparently unaware that anything unusual had just taken place.

I didn’t he
ar Mark’s reply. I was too busy
puzzling over the strange sensations I had experienc
ed during the last dance. Remem
bering the feel of Gary's arms around me, I shivered a little, and the thought occurred to me that Colette Carroll—or any other girl, for that matter—
could do a lot worse than
going to the prom with
Gary
Hadley.

But I knew that Colette would never look twice at him, and it really wasn't fair. Gary was such a ni
ce guy. It was a shame he was so
—well, so geeky-looking.

I studied him as he sat watching television with Mark.
Gary
's clothes were okay, al
though he would never be the fashion plate that Steve wa
s. Getting his contacts and los
ing those glasses woul
d be a big improve
ment, too. Still, there was one other thing that might make a difference—exac
tl
y how much of a difference I wasn't sure, but it was worth a shot.

“
Gary,
”
I said i
mpulsively,
“
have you ever thought about getting a really good haircut?
”

The fo
llowing Monday I called Hair De
signs to make an appointment for Gary with Ellen, my favorite stylist. After I explained Gary's problem and told Ellen what I had in mind, I made the appointment for Saturday morning. It was a long time to wait, but I had my reasons for scheduling it so far in advance.
Gary
was supposed to get his con
tacts Friday afternoon, and I wanted him to show up at school the following Monday with a whole new look.

The week seemed to drag by, but at long
last Saturday arrived. To my dismay, when Gary picked me up at a quarter of ten, he was still wearing his glasses.

Frowning at him as I climbed into his second-hand Toyota, I asked,
“
What hap
pened to your contacts? Weren’t they ready yesterday, or have you vaporized them already?
”

“
I have them right here,
”
Gary said, pat
ting the breast pocket of his shirt.
“
It’s a new prescription, and I’m not used to it yet. I thought I’d put them in later. Where is this place we’re going to, anyway?
”

I gave him directions, and soon we were walking into Hair Designs. The bell over the door jangled merrily as we entered the shop, and Ellen came out of the back room to greet us.

“
Hi, Ellen,
”
I said loudly over the rock music that was blaring in the waiting room.
“
This is Gary Hadley, the one I told you about on the phone.
”

She studied his shaggy mop critically.
“
Hmmm. I see what you mean,
”
Ellen said.
“
How much do you want taken off?
”

“
Just a trim
…
”
Gary began.

“
About three inches,
”
I told her.

“
Three inches
?
”
Gary echoed i
n horror.
“
I won’t have any hair left!
”

“
Yes, you will,
”
Ellen assured him.
“
Just not as much.
”

“
But I
like
my hair,
”
he protested.

I patted his arm.
“
I do, too, Gary. It's very nice hair, and I’m sure it would have been very fashionable back in the seventies. But these are the nineties. Besides, if you don’t like it, you can always let it grow back.
”

“
But—but
…
”

He kept on
“
butting
”
as Ellen led him gently but firmly into the salon. Now there was nothing left for me to do but wait.

I expected to hear a wail of anguish as soon as the hair started to fall, but the music drowned out any sound from the back. I glanced at a couple of magazines, but none of them held my attention for very long, so I started pacing up and down like an expectant father awaiting the birth of his first child.

My nervousness grew with every passing minute. What if I’d made a terrible mistake? What if Gary had really awful ears that would be better covered up? What if...?

“
Well, I hope you’re satisfied,
”
said a gloomy voice from the doorway to the salon.

I was almost afraid to look. If
this whole thing was a disaster,
I'd never forgive myself. Taking a deep breath, I turned around very slowly.

There in the doorway stood a very tall, slender boy with reddish-brown hair cropped short on the top and sides, but left long enough in the back to touch his shirt collar. Long, thick
lashes framed a pair of eyes al
most the same color as his hair, and at the moment those eyes were filled with uncertainty.

I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn't make a sound. Although I’d hoped for some slight improvement, never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that inside sweet, clumsy Gary was a gorgeous hunk just waiting to be set free!

“
Molly, don’t look at me like that,
”
he begged.
“
Say
something!
”

“
Oh, Gary,
”
I breathed, finding my voice at last.
“
You look—you look
…
”

“
Like a plucked chicken, right?
”
he finished for me, nervously rubbing his newly shorn head.

“
No!
”
I exclaimed. “
You look fantastic, absolutely
fantastic
!
”

Gary blinked.
“
Are you kidding?
”

Still a little dazed, I shook my head.
“
Be
lieve me, I've never been more serious in my
life.
”

With a tentative smile he said,
“
Well, I
f
eel
like a plucked chicken. Are you sure I don’t look weird?
”

“
No, Gary, you do not look weird. Just wait till Colette gets a load of the new,
i
mproved Gary Hadley on Monday morning!
”
I said as we headed for the door.
“
She’ll never know what hit her!
”

As Gary started out the door, his head bumped the bell hanging over it, making it jangle wildly.
“
Oops—sorry about that,
”
he muttered just before he stumbled over the threshold and almost fell.

I couldn't help smiling as I followed him to his car. The
“
new
”
Gary Hadley might be a hunk, but there was still a lot of the old Gary Hadley left, and for some reason, I was very glad.