Читать книгу Over the Spiked Picket Fence - Angela Aloisio Sander & Denvil Buchanan - Страница 17

He was much taller than I was and considerably younger. He was six feet or taller and quite slim. His skin was black with eyes like a night animal. His teeth were slightly uneven, yet there was something unique about his smile. He had long hair all in curls tied up at the back. He was wearing a brown leather jacket, gabardine bell-bottoms and platform shoes. He looked like a golden oldie from the seventies and he had the nerve to think that I would even say hello to him. He was clearly not for me.

I reflected on my own immediate past, to test the audacity of this strange foreigner who would not go away. I had been prom queen in high school, popular with my peers. I had been Tom Harper’s girl. He was a very good musician and a good athlete. Tom was Anglo Saxon with eyes as blue as the Adriatic Sea. He was the coolest guy at Cedar High. Yes, Tom loved women and women loved him.

Now I was tempted to take another look at this strange looking guy next to me. He was certainly not from my world. He was the type I would not have given even a second glance in high school. Not that I would have been the least bit interested anyway, but to have done so would have been at my own risk. That had been the constant warning communicated every day at my table at supper time. It was the line that should never be crossed.

“Excuse me; I missed last week’s class. Would you mind filling me in?” I had asked the young girl beside me.

“Sure – as if you missed anything anyway, they never teach anything in the first week, a real waste of our time and money,” this classmate jumped in to respond.

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