SVH09-Racing Hearts (8 page)

"I'm sure that made him score a lot of points in your book," Jessica noted. The young French teacher had dated Lila's father for a while, and she and Lila were hardly what anyone would call best buddies.

"And did you notice the way everyone is talking about him? Overnight he's become the darling of the entire school."

"And now you intend to make him your darling, right?" Cara asked.

Lila took a sip of her soda. "You'd better believe it, honey."

"Has he asked you out yet?" Jessica asked.

"No. I get the feeling Roger's a little shy around girls. But don't think that's going to stop me. I have my ways. You just wait and see who'll be with Roger at the Bart dance."

Roger had just finished taking a quiz in his Spanish class the following Monday afternoon

when he was called down to Coach Schultz's office. He took his time walking down the empty hallway, fully aware of the reason he was being summoned.

He dreaded the confrontation, realizing he should have cleared up this matter the week before. But the temptation to hold onto his newfound status was too overwhelming to resist. Every morning as he dressed for school he'd tell himself this was the day he'd tell the coach the truth. But then he'd run into someone on the lush Sweet Valley campus who would give him the thumbs-up sign or tell him how the school was rooting for him, and his resolve would crumble. The people watching him held looks of admiration and respect, things he'd never before experienced and probably never would again once he announced his intention not to run.

Coach Schultz was leaning back in his old wooden swivel chair when Roger arrived. He was grim-faced as usual, but Roger could detect a further hardening in the coach's expression as he walked into the office. "Take a seat, Roger," he said.

The boy sat in the only seat available, a wooden stool to the right of the desk. His knees buckled under his jeans.

The coach got right to the point. "What kind of game are you trying to play?" he asked. "When I order you to practice, I expect you to

be there. You think you're so special you don't

need it?"

"No, sir," Roger interjected. "That's not it."

The coach went on. "Now take Patman. I expected him to be the cocky one, giving me a lot of sass about running extra laps and wind sprints. But no, he shows up after school--much to my surprise, I might say--ready for practice. You put a scare into him, my boy. He doesn't like to lose, and he's going all out to win. Which is more than I can say for you."

"I know what you're thinking," Roger began. "And I can explain--"

"You have no idea what I'm thinking, son." The coach rose and turned around to the bulletin board behind his desk. "You see this fella?" he asked, pointing to a faded black-and-white photo. "That's Jack Ralston. Do you know what he's doing today?"

Roger shook his head. "No, sir."

"He's the president of one of the largest research labs in the state," he said with obvious pride. "And to a large degree he owes it all to the Bart. That's what I'm thinking about, Roger. I'm thinking about what the Bart can do for you and how you appear to be letting it slip through your fingers."

"I'm not following you, sir."

"I'm talking about the scholarship. Jack couldn't afford to go to college until the Bart came along. The scholarship he won to Sweet

Valley College gave him an education he might never have received. You want to go on to college, don't you, Roger?"

"Yes, Coach."

"A full scholarship to Sweet Valley College could make all the difference in the world. Why are you throwing away your chance?" Coach Schultz said, the anger evident in his voice. "You're a fine runner, and my money's on you to win, but you don't stand a ghost of a chance if you don't practice." The coach paused as the bell rang. "Think about it, Roger. I want to see you at practice this afternoon. I've got to get to the gym now."

Coach Schultz picked up his whistle and walked out of the room, leaving Roger to think over what he had said. Roger knew the coach was right, but even the grand prize of a full scholarship would be useless if he lost his job. The way Roger figured it, with his good grades he stood an excellent chance of winning a scholarship anyway. But he needed the money from his job right now to help pay his family's bills. And winning the race wasn't a sure thing, anyway. If he took the chance of losing his job and ended up losing the race, too, he'd wind up with nothing. By not running in the race, at least he wouldn't be any worse off than he was now.

Roger was preoccupied with his situation as he walked down the hallway to his next class.

He didn't even notice Lila approaching until they practically bumped into each other.

"Well, well, if this isn't a pleasant surprise," Lila said, smiling sweetly.

"Oh, hi, Lila," Roger said, a smile lighting up his own face. "Sorry I couldn't join you at lunch today. I had to practice." Actually he'd been doing his homework in the library.

"Oh, that's OK," Lila said. "But I'm glad I caught you. How'd your practice go?"

Roger shuffled his feet uneasily. "Oh, well, OK," he lied.

Lila smiled. "Don't be so modest. You're very talented, and there's nothing wrong with letting the world know about it. In fact, I even wrote a little poem about you. I wanted to have it run in
The Oracle,
but your
friend
Olivia rejected it. I'd like you to hear it, though. Got a second?"

Roger was amazed that Lila had taken the time to write about him. "Sure, go ahead."

Lila deftly plucked a folded piece of white paper from her shoulder bag and began to read dramatically.

Roger Barrett, a boy so fine.

His speedy running is so divine.

In school, too, he is very smart.

He'll walk away with the trophy at the Bart.

In everything he operates at the highest stratum.

We at Sweet Valley are so proud we have him.

She paused to let the words sink in. "Well, what do you think?"

"Um, what can I say? Thanks." Roger was glad Olivia had had the good sense to save Lila the humiliation of having it published. The poem was awful. "It was very thoughtful of you," he added diplomatically.

"I know," Lila said. "I just wanted to make sure you realize that we're all behind you one hundred percent. We want you to win. I've even asked Jessica to write a new cheer for you for the race." Lila clapped her hand to her mouth. "I don't believe I said that. It was supposed to be a surprise."

"You shouldn't have gone to all that trouble, Lila. Really you shouldn't have," Roger emphasized.

"There's that modesty again." Lila shook her head. "It's my
pleasure
to do these things for you. I was also thinking you're probably going to be very hot and tired after your race practice today. Why don't you join me for a little swim in my pool?"

Roger's eyes grew wide. He couldn't imagine anything he'd like more--and anything that was so far from ever becoming a reality. "I'd like to," he said. "But I can't."

"Why not?" Lila pouted, fingering his shirt seductively. "What can you be doing that's more important than that?"

"I--I can't tell you," he said. "Not yet. Listen, I've got to get to class. I'll talk to you later." He ran down the hall before Lila had the chance to make him say something he knew he shouldn't.

"We'll see what happens," Lila said, her face hardening. She wasn't used to being turned down, and she didn't like it.

Eight

Elizabeth Wakefield peered around the stairwell door in her father's office building and looked down the hallway. She felt a little silly playing detective, but she'd come to the conclusion that she'd never figure out what her sister was doing unless she saw it herself. For an entire week Jessica had been staying late at the office, but her reasoning was starting to wear a little thin. How long could it take to fix up a supply cabinet? When she had entered the building, Elizabeth had had to sign in at the night guard's desk. She had deliberately scrawled her name illegibly--she didn't want anyone to recognize it. She was glad she had worn her jacket with a hood; with her hair covered and the hood tied closely around her face, the guard would be less likely to mistake her for Jessica. As she was about to get on the elevator, she had spotted Roger Barrett making his way toward the front

of the building, pulling his mop and pail alongside him. Not wanting to embarrass him and not wanting to be spotted herself, Elizabeth had slunk toward the stairs and quietly walked up the four flights to her father's floor.

Now, she tiptoed toward the office. Through the frosted glass door, she could see the silhouettes of two people standing close together, and from the sound of things, it appeared they weren't talking about legal matters.

"Mmm . . ." Jessica murmured. "No one kisses the way you do."

"There's plenty more where that came from," Dennis said.

So it
was
a boy, Elizabeth thought, her deepest suspicions confirmed.

"How'd you like that?" Dennis asked softly after what must have been one of the longest kisses in Sweet Valley history.

"Delicious," Jessica said, snuggling up to him. "But doesn't it bother you just a teensy bit that we spend all our time in this office?"

"I'd hardly call this suffering. Would you?"

"Well, no . . ." Jessica began.

Dennis continued. "Besides, where else can we go? Your dad thinks you're here doing your homework. What if he were to call up and get no answer?"

"I'm not necessarily talking about weeknights," Jessica hinted.

"We're just getting to know each other. We've

got plenty of time," Dennis told her. "There's no need to rush into anything."

Jessica sighed. "I suppose you're right." It wasn't her style to give up so easily, but she didn't want to let Dennis think she cared that much.

The blond-haired boy traced Jessica's lips with his fingertip. "Hey, no frowns allowed here." He kissed her once gently, then again, with more insistence. "Tell you what. Let's go out right now."

"But what about Dad?"

Dennis thought a moment. "Call him up and tell him you're going to grab a bite to eat before coming home."

"Great thinking," Jessica said, brightening considerably. She got up and went to the phone.

That was Elizabeth's signal to make herself invisible. Moving like a cheetah, she found refuge behind a nearby water fountain and waited for them to come out of the office.

The boy was helping Jessica on with her sweater. "What do you say we go to Guido's? It's close by, and then afterward I'll walk you to your car," he said, leading her toward the elevator.

Normally Jessica left before Dennis and had the night guard see her to her car. "Oh, I was hoping you'd give me a ride home, Dennis. I didn't bring my car today. My sister begged me

to lend it to her, and I couldn't bear to turn her down."

Elizabeth resented being used as a convenient excuse for her twin. The only reason she herself had the car that night was because their mother had needed it during the day and had turned down Jessica's request for it. The twins were allowed to use the little red Fiat only when their mother didn't need it for her job as an interior designer. Elizabeth knew their parents would be furious if they discovered the real reason Jessica had been begging them to lend her the car the previous week. Jessica had convinced them that the buses ran so infrequently that she needed the car if she was going to stay late at the office to do her homework. Fortunately for Jessica, Alice Wakefield's design business was going through a slow period, so she hadn't needed the car as much as usual, and she had been very pleased that her normally flighty daughter was becoming so serious and responsible.

Dennis, of course, was unaware of Jessica's lies as he brushed his lips against her forehead. "What timing," he declared. "I'm having a lot of trouble with my car, and it's in the shop. I've got to take the bus home. Sorry, Jess."

She didn't seem to mind. "That's OK. We'll wait at the bus stop together then," she said as the elevator arrived.

The imitation wood elevator doors opened,

and Roger Barrett, dressed in his institutional green janitorial uniform, stepped out with his bucket and mop. A shock of recognition registered on his face and on Jessica's, but neither one said anything as their paths crossed. Elizabeth felt her stomach churn in pity for the boy. By tomorrow morning his secret would be common knowledge around school, and once again he'd be the laughingstock of Sweet Valley.

Unless Elizabeth acted--and acted quickly. Sneaking back down the stairs, she waited until Jessica and Dennis had signed out. Then she, too, signed out and hurried down the street in the opposite direction from Jessica and Dennis. Jumping into the Fiat, which she had parked on a side street, she quickly put the key in the ignition. She wanted to be home well before Jessica.

Roger knew he was in trouble. He needed some advice, and as soon as he got home that evening, he reached for the phone and dialed Olivia's number.

"I've got problems, Liv," he confessed to her.

Olivia was surprised to hear Roger's voice. She'd gone out of her way to avoid him ever since he'd won the race trials and, apparently, Lila Fowler's heart as well. The sight of the two of them together was a painful reminder of

how much she was missing out on and how much she truly cared for Roger.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

"First off, there's something I've got to explain to you. You know how I've told you I spend most of my time studying? I lied, Liv. My family's a lot poorer than I've led you to believe, and I've got to work to help pay the rent. Every day after school I'm a janitor in an office building."

For a few seconds the line was quiet as Olivia absorbed the news.

"Go on, say it," Roger continued. "It embarrasses you to realize you're friends with a cleaning boy. If you don't want to be my friend anymore, I'll understand, so just--"

"Roger Barrett, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Olivia cut him off. "I don't find anything wrong with your being a janitor-- except that I wish you'd told me sooner. I have a feeling
you're
the one who's ashamed. You have no reason to be, you realize."