Not many girls here were blond. Besides, she was exquisite—around five six with long hair and long legs. Big, round blue eyes. It would take a moron not to notice. Ben said, “So her name is Ro? Like the Greek letter?”
“R-O not R-H-O. No matter how you spell it, she’s on fire.” JD touched an imaginary flame and made a sizzling sound. “Hot! We’re an item.” He held out a twenty. “For your efforts.”
“Nuh-uh,” Ben said. “You’re not buying me off. Besides, I didn’t do anything.”
“Up to you.” JD pocketed the bill and left.
The bell rang. Ben got up and dumped his paper-bag lunch into the garbage and headed for his TA calc, where no doubt Ro—not the Greek letter—would be looking at him with a strange expression on her face.
Tucked into the front corner, Ben sat about five feet from the teacher’s desk, trying not to pay attention to the new girl. She, on the other hand, was brazen, clearly sizing him up. He wasn’t much to write home about: five ten, one-forty with pale brown eyes and dark curls that brushed his shoulders. He needed a haircut. His looks qualified him as boyish except when he didn’t shave. School prohibited facial hair and that meant that every other day he had to plow through a sizable amount of stubble.
Lowen came in and class began. The first week was review starting with Algebra 2. Ten minutes before the bell rang, Teach told everyone to close their books.
“Let’s see who was really paying attention,” he said. “Everyone get out a sheet of paper and a pencil. Five points to the first one to solve the problem I put on the whiteboard.” When he was sure all textbooks were closed, Lowen wrote the problem and then turned to Ben. “Take over, Vicks. I’m grabbing a cup of coffee.” As soon as Lowen left, the noise level went up. Not that anyone was cheating, but talking was another thing.
Ben stood watch, which gave him an excellent chance to look the girl over. She was working like a devil, layers of honey-blond silk covering her face as she scribbled furiously. Within a minute, her hand shot up. He walked over to her, and wordlessly, she handed him her paper. He said, “Uh, you got Z, but you need all three variables.”
“Right.” She snatched the paper from his hands.
A moment later, it was Manny Martinez’s turn. Ben was checking his work just as Lowen came back. “We have a winner.”
“Very good, Mr. Martinez, you’re off to a fine start,” he said. “You can record it, Vicks.”
As he opened the grade book, Ben’s eyes scanned down the list—twenty names with a clean slate where scores would soon be posted. Quickly he looked for Ro’s last name but couldn’t even find her first name. But that was an easy fix because the only name he didn’t recognize was Dorothy Majors.
Then he got it. Dorothy as in Do-ro-thy. Just as Lowen was giving out the homework assignment, Ben felt his phone vibrating. Checking the text, he felt light-headed—his heart thumping as he tried to stave off panic. Catching Lowen’s eye, he pointed to his watch while making a walking motion with his two fingers. The teacher waved him off and he raced out of the classroom.
He made it to his locker as his chest seized up. He debated making a quick call to Shanks, but decided it was a bad idea. This conversation needed a face-to-face. Whatever the results, the day was shit.
Open the locker, get the books out, and get out of here.
“Hi.”
Ben whipped his head around while balancing an armful of books. “Oh, hi.”
“I just thought I’d introduce myself.” She held out her hand. “Ro Majors.”
“Uh . . . Ben Vicksburg.” He shuffled his books so his right hand was free to shake hers.
“Vicksburg? Like in the Civil War battle?”
“Yeah, somewhere in my background is Rebel blood.” More shuffling of books. “Way down there, though. My family’s been here for five generations.”
“Whoa. That’s a long time to be in one place. You must have a lot of relatives around.”
“Uh . . . sure. Not all in northern New Mexico.” He was trying to find his English lit notebook. It seemed to have disappeared. “I’ve got relatives here. I’ve got a lot in Albuquerque, some in Durango, some in Roswell.”
“The Roswell?”
“The Roswell.”
“Have they seen any aliens?”
“Only when they look in the mirror.”
She smiled and said, “Do you have those big family reunions?”
Man, she asked a lot of questions. “Uh, yeah, every year around August twelfth . . . which is Santa Clara feast day.” Voilà, he found the notebook. His mind wasn’t on the conversation, but for once he made an attempt to be polite. Probably because he liked looking at her face. “You were that close to the answer.”
“Yeah, just a little slow.”
“Maybe next time.”
“He gives those five-pointers a lot?”
“Every week.”
“Okay. I’ll have to move quicker. I’m not bad in math, but I am deliberate.”
“Math requires deliberation. Patience is a good thing.” He stacked the books he didn’t need back in the locker. Shanks’s text was still burning in his brain. He had to get out of there.
“. . . you’re done with calc?” She was still talking to him.
“Yeah, a long time ago. I’m kind of a math nerd.”
“So I’ve heard.” He stared at her and she blushed. She said, “Not the nerd part, just that you’re a math brain.”
“Right.” A pause. “JD says hello, by the way.”
“When did you see JD?”
“In the lunchroom.” He closed his locker with a thud. “Just after you left with Shannon and Chelsea . . . who were no doubt giving you the skinny on me as well as everyone else in this little school.”
“Four hundred isn’t small. At least by private school standards.”
“Ah, you’re from private stock?”
“Scarsdale, New York.”
“What brings you here?” Why was he still talking to her?
“Parents. Not my idea, believe me. Who wants to leave high school in their senior year?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty bad.”
“Beyond bad. It took me two weeks to talk to them again. This is like the polar opposite of New York. I bet you know, like, everyone in the school.”
“Just about.” Ben shrugged. “JD gleefully told me that you two are an item.”
“That is true.”
“He’s a lucky guy.” Ben forced a smile. “Nice meeting you, Ro.”
“Are you coming to the kickoff game next Friday night?”
“Don’t think so.” Ben made a not-so-subtle glance at his wristwatch.
“Are you in a hurry?”
“Kinda.”
“Sorry about all the questions. I’m a little nosy at times.”
“Nothing wrong with being curious. It’s just that I’ve got to meet . . .” A homicide detective. “Someone . . . it’s kinda important.”
“Then I won’t keep you.” She gave a nice smile, and waved.
Ben watched her walk away, her hips sashaying down the hall in a gait that said confidence. She and JD were well matched in that regard. Talking to her had momentarily calmed him down. As soon as she was gone, his heart started racing once again. He slipped his backpack onto his shoulder and jogged to his bike.
He was in too much of a hurry to even feel sorry for himself.
Chapter 2