D. MacHale - The Rivers of Zadaa

“Thanks,” she said. “Maybe another time.”

“Whatever,” Whitney said, backing toward the field. “See you at dinner?”

“Uh, sure,” Courtney said, and pretended to start reading.

Whitney jogged back to the field. Courtney stole a look at him just as Whitney looked back at her. Busted. Courtney blushed and went back to reading. She had no idea what had just happened. Did they just make a date for dinner?

When Courtney went to the cafeteria that night, her palms were sweating. She did all she could to look casual as she went through the food line while stealing glances out to the tables to see if Whitney was already there. She really hoped he wasn’t. Not because she didn’t want to eat with him, but she didn’t want to be the one to go over and sit with him if he was already eating. She wanted him to come to her. That’s why she showed up ten minutes earlier than usual, to make sure she was sitting before he got there. She left the food line with her tray, and the only thing she did differently was to sit at a table alone, instead of the usual table with the giggling girls. She didn’t want them to get a crack at Whitney before she figured out what was going on between them. She had a fleeting thought about Bobby, but forced it out of her mind. She told herself this was just dinner. Nothing more.

“Hey, Corwind!” came a voice from across the cafeteria. It was Whitney. He was already there. Courtney hadn’t seen him. He got up from the table with his tray and joined her. “You dodging me again?” he asked with a smile.

“I didn’t see you. Have a seat…unless you’d rather eat with your friends.”

“Nah, all those guys talk about is girls and the Red Sox.”

“I’m a girl,” Courtney said.

“Oh, right,” Whitney said playfully. “You like the Red Sox?”

“I’ve been a Yankees fan since birth,” Courtney replied.

“I knew I liked you,” Whitney said with a beaming smile.

The two had a fun dinner together. The very next night, they had another fun dinner together. They did the same the next night and the one after that. Courtney wasn’t exactly sure what was happening. She liked Whitney, that much was obvious. But it was more than just a physical attraction. Whitney seemed to think the same way she did. They had the same sense of humor. They were both into sports. They both liked to poke fun at each other. It was fun and funny. Courtney learned that he came from a suburb of Hartford. He longed to travel and see other cultures. He was good in school and in sports, but he was beginning to feel the pressure of high expectations-from others and from himself. Courtney felt as if Whitney were describing her. He was as driven to succeed as she was. He even had a girlfriend back home, but he wasn’t sure where the relationship was going.

Of course, she couldn’t confide in him about Bobby and Saint Dane, but she didn’t feel the need to. They were connecting on such a basic level, they were able to share ideas and feelings without having to discuss specific events. It was the best kind of therapy she could have gotten-way better than the doctor who made her sit in his stuffy office as he pulled on his eyebrows and took notes that she thought were probably just doodles.

Courtney and Whitney started spending much of their free time together. He even got her into one of his soccer games. As reluctant as Courtney was at first, she found that she actually had fun. It was the first time she had fun playing soccer since she was in grade school. There was no pressure, no drive to win at all costs, just the pure joy of doing something she loved. For Courtney, Whitney was giving her an incredible gift. He was teaching her how to be herself again.

She thought it ironic that what brought them together was the near miss by the mysterious black sedan. A few times when she and Whitney walked past the parked car, Courtney made sure that Whitney didn’t see it. She didn’t want him to try and convince her to report the driver. With only a few weeks left of summer school, she didn’t want to deal with the police over something that was probably an accident. Accidents happened. So did near accidents.

She continued to catch glimpses of the dark car from the corner of her eye, but she no longer cared. There were no more near misses. The thought did occur to her that maybe the reason for that was because she was always with Whitney. If somebody was targeting her, they’d have to target both of them. They didn’t. Whitney was like her protector. But Courtney didn’t want to think of it that way. She didn’t want to believe that somebody was out there lying in wait to “get” her. She didn’t want to let anything stand in the way of having fun with Whitney, and the absolute, total joy of becoming Courtney again.

“Big night tonight,” Whitney exclaimed as he met Courtney one day after her literature class.

“What’s going on?” she asked. Courtney thought that Whitney seemed a little nervous.

“Well, uh, a bunch of us are going into town,” he said. “Technically, we’re not supposed to leave campus. But we’re all feeling a little caged in, and we thought it would be cool to hit this place called the ‘Pizza Palace.’ It’s supposed to be decent. Do, uh, do you want to come?”

“Whitney!” Courtney teased. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Uh, well, yeah, I guess I am,” Whitney said nervously.

Courtney smiled. She realized that Whitney was nervous because he had never actually, officially asked her out. Up until this point, all they had done was hang out as friends. They might as well have been two guys, or two girls. But this was different. This was a girl/guy thing. There could potentially be kissing involved. Courtney wanted to go in a bad way. “What time?” she asked.

Whitney looked visibly relieved. “Six o’clock,” he said. “A friend of mine has a car. We’ll pick you up.”

Courtney’s shoulders fell. “I’ve got art class until seven,” she said.

“Ditch!” Whitney said.

“I can’t. There’s a guest artist coming, and it’s a pretty big deal. But I can meet you later. Town is what? Two, three miles away? I can ride my bike after class. It’ll still be light. Then we’ll put the bike in the trunk of the car on the way back.”

“Awesome,” Whitney said. “The place is called-“

“I know, the Pizza Palace,” Courtney interrupted. “You just told me.”

“Oh, right.” Whitney laughed. “You can’t miss it. There’s only one pizza place in that dinky town.”

“Can’t wait,” Courtney said. She meant it. She was so excited, she wanted to dance. Or sing. But since doing either would be totally out of character and uncool, she did the next best thing.

She called Mark.

Mark Dimond was busy at work. He was engraving a huge, silver cup for a local boating race, and he was so nervous about it, his hands were shaking. In the engraving biz, shaky hands were not a good thing. Mostly he engraved brass plates that went on plaques and trophies. If he messed one up, no big deal. The plates were cheap. But this silver cup was worth more than he was going to earn all summer. One slip and he’d have to change his name and move to another state. Mark’s palms were sweating. He was about to touch the cutting edge of the engraving tool to the silver surface… when the cell phone in his pocket rang.

The surprise made him jump. Luckily he hadn’t started engraving yet. If the call had come a second later, there would have been a deep gouge slashed across the Stony Brook Yacht Club logo. He took a deep, relieved breath, then wondered why there was an electronic waltz coming from his pants. Mark never got calls on his cell phone. He only had it for emergencies and to tell the time. Incoming calls were an alien experience. The phone had to ring again before he realized what it was. He dug the phone out of his pocket and flipped it open.