Don't Bet On Love (3 page)

“
That’s why you’ve got to plan ahead,
”
I
tol
d him.
“
St
art thinking right now of somethin
g you can use to begin a conversation
. The
n when yo
u see Colette in school on Monday,
you can go right up to her and say...
”
I
paused, waiting expectantly for him to come up with an opening remark.

Gary furrowed his brow, obviously thinking hard. Suddenly he shouted,
“
How do you think the Lakers will do in the NBA playoffs?
”

I groaned.
“
No, no,
no
!
”

Gary
looked crushed.
“
You don’t like the Lakers?
”

“
Forget the Lakers!
”
I said.
“
Forget the NBA playoffs! That might be okay for Mark or Eddie or Steve, but
not
for Colette!
”

“
What
should
I talk about, then?
”

“
I don’t know,
”
I sighed. This was going to be even harder than I had feared.
“
What do you have in common?
”

“
Absolutely nothing,
”
Gary said, sighing, too.

“
Wrong! Yo
u’ve got a history class in com
mon—use that as a starting point. Talk to her about the assignment or something. Or, if you can’t think
of anything else to say, talk
about the weather,
”
I suggested.
“
That’s al
ways a nice, safe topic.
”

“
Great!
”
he exclaimed, jumping up from the couch and heading for the door.
“
I can’t wait till Monday! T
hanks, Molly—you’re a lifesaver!”

“
Whoa! Where are you going in such a hurry?
”
I asked.

“
Home! Today’s Friday—I’ve got only two and a half
days to think of something to say!
”

Waving good-bye, Gary ran out of the room—and tripped over the same step he’d tripped over on his way in.

I sat there shaking my head, both amused and puzzled. Gary was a strange person, all right! On the basketball court he moved with precision and grace, and yet anywhere else, he couldn’t walk and chew gum at the same time. He could explain algebra to me, yet he couldn’t put together a coherent sentence when his dream girl was around. How on earth was I going to turn him into the kind of boy Colette would fall for? I couldn’t help thinking about the musical
My Fair Lady
. Compared to the obstacles I faced, Professor He
nry
Higgins’s task of transforming Eliza Doolittle into an elegant lady was a cinch!

On the other hand, I didn’t have to look very far to fi
nd examples of awkward, homely-
looking guys who had somehow managed to land gorgeous girls. Of course, those guys usually had other attributes that made up for their shortcomings, like style or charisma. Unfortunately, Gary Hadley had neither.

CHAPTER THREE

Th
e following Monday I waited with Gary in the hall near his locker, keeping a sharp eye out for Colette Carroll.

“
Hav
e you got your opening line pre
pared?
”
I asked him.

“
Well, I thought maybe I’d ask her how she did on last Friday’s history test—unless you think that’s too personal,
”
he added quickly.
“
If it is, I could—
”

“
No, I think that’s just fine.
”

“
Do you really think this will work?
”
he asked nervously.
“
I’ve been worrying about it all weekend!
”

“
Of course it will,
”
I said with more assurance than I really felt.
“
Now, try to calm down. Remember, you’re not asking her for a date or anything. You’re just making a little casual conversation. People do it all the time.
”

Gary swallowed hard.
“
What if I go blank?
”

“
If you go blank, you can always fall back on the weather,
”
I reminded him.
“
Get ready! I see her coming!
”

Gary snapped rigidly to attention, all six feet six of him.

“
Will you relax?
”
I hissed.
“
Try to act natu
ral, like you were stopping by your locker and just happened to run into her.
”

Having given Gary his last-minute instructions, I took up a post at the water fountain across the hall so I could watch the proceedings from a discreet distance. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Colette approach, her long, dark curls bouncing with every step she took. I bent over the fountain, pretending to take a drink, and when she drew
up
even with me, I nodded for
Gary
to make his move. He squared his shoulders and took a jerky step forward.

“
H-hi, Colette,
”
he stammered.

She pau
sed and looked at him curiously
as if she vaguely recognized him but could
n’t
remember exactly who he was.
“
Huh? Oh hi,
”
she
replied without much interest.

“
I—uh—I was just wondering
…
”
Gary cast wild, desperate eyes in my direction. I nodded
again and smiled reassuringly.

“
Yes?
”
Colette prompted him.

“
Uh—we’ve been having lots of weather lately, haven’t we?
”
he blurted out.

Colette looked mildly surprised for a moment, then turned her glamour-girl smile on high beam.
“
Yes, lately it seems as if we’ve been having weather
every
day,
”
she agreed,
and continued walking down the hall.

Gary shut his eyes and beat his head against the wall.
“
I can’t believe I said that! She must think I’m a total moron!
”
he moaned.

I hurried over to him before he could knock himself unconscious.
“
You weren’t all that bad,
”
I lied, but Gary refused to be comforted.

“
I was
terrible
! What’s wrong with me,
Molly? Why can’t I talk to girls?
”

“
I’m
a girl,
”
I pointed out. “
You don’t seem to have any problem talking to
me
.
”

“Y
eah, but that's different. You're just
Ma
rk’s sister.
”

F
o
r some reason, that remark upset me.
Then I reminded myself that this was only
Gary Hadley, and it really didn’t matter one
b
i
t what he thought of me.

“
All you need is a little practice,
”
I insisted. Suddenly I had an inspiration.
“
Why don’t you come over to my house after school? I just thought of a dynamite way to teach you how to carry on a conversation. It’ll work like a charm, or your money back.
”

At that,
Gary
brightened a little.
“
Just what I always wanted,
”
he joked feebly.
“
A fairy godmother with a money-back guarantee!
”

“
Be sure
to come dressed to play basket
ball,
”
I called after him as he started down the hall.

Gary
turned and stared at me.
“
Dressed to play
…
? I don’t get it.
”

“
You will,
”
I promised.
“
See you this afternoon!
”

For the rest of the day I had a hard time concentrating on my schoolwork. I was sure hit upon the perfect way to teach
Gary
the art of social conversation. All he really needed was a little confidence. And since he couldn’t talk to girls, we’d start off with something he
could
do: play basketball.

When the final bell rang that afternoon, I practically ran the three blocks home. I went straight to my room, where I threw off my school clothes and put on boxer shorts and an oversize T-shirt. Then I pulled my hair up into a ponytail, grabbed my tennis shoes, and went downstairs to wait for Gary.

He arrived about fifteen minutes later, dressed in gym shorts and a gray T-shirt bearing the words
“
Carson H. S. Phys. Ed.
”
in maroon lett
ers. His long legs were incredi
bly skinny, and his oversize feet in their heavily padded high-tops looked enormous. His goofy glasses were held in place by an elastic strap across the back of his shaggy head.

“
Come on in, Gary,
”
I said, opening the door wide.
“
Let me get Mark’s basketball, and we’ll start.
”

Mark h
ad been watching TV in the den,
but he heard what I said.
“
Molly’s going t
o
play basketball? This I gotta see!
”
he crowed, sticking his head out into the hall.

“Oh,
no you won't!
”
I said firmly.
“
Be
sides,
I'm not going to play basketball. I
’
m
going to show Gary how to carry on a con
versation with it.
”

“
Why would he want to talk to a
basketball
?
”
Mark asked.

“
Would you just cut the clowning and tell
me
where it is?
”
I demanded impatiently.

“
It’s up in my room somewhere. I’ll get it for you if you’ll let me watch,
”
he offered.

“
No way! I’ll get it myself.
”

I started up the stairs with
Gary
at my heels. When we reached Mark’s room, I flung open the door and froze on the threshold. Mark’s bed was unmade, and the blue carpet was barely visible underneath mounds of dirty clothes. On top of the cluttered desk was a half-eaten sandwich that was curling at the edges. I shuddered to think how long it might have been there.

“
Yuck! No wonder he keeps the door closed,
”
I said, wrinkling my nose in disgust.
“
If the health department knew about this place, they’d condemn it!
”

“
Are you sure there’s a basketball hiding
in h
ere?
”
Gary
asked, peering at the mess.

I shru
gged.
“
There’s only one way to find
out. I’ll check the closet, and you look under the bed.
”

As Gary knelt on the floor beside the bed,
I gingerly picked my way across the room and opened the closet door. A tennis racket and a baseball mitt tumbled down from an upper shelf, narrowly missing my head. I was just about to push back the row of shirts hanging from the rod, when a sharp cry of pain came from beneath the bed.

“
Owww!
”

“
Gary!
”
I cried, whirling about in alarm.
“
What happened?
”

A moment later Gary’s head emerged, dusty but intact.
“
I think something bit me,
”
he said, grinning wickedly.

I snatched up the baseball mitt and threw it at him.
“
You scared me half to death!
”
I scolded, laughing.

“
I did find the ball, though,
”
he said, reaching under the bed and drawing it out.

“
Great! Let’s leave this pigsty and get started!
”

Gary followed me back down the stairs and out the door to the basketball hoop mounted on the front of the garage, where he'd often played with Mark and their
friends.

“
I still don’t see what basketball has to do with talking to Colette,
”
he said.

“
They’re not so different, really,
”
I told him.
“
A conversation is like throwing a ball back and forth. You say something to her, she says something back to you, and so on and so forth.
”

“
Like a passing drill?
”
Gary nodded
in un
derstanding.
“
I think I'm beginning to catch on.
”

“
All right,
”
I said, bouncing the ball once or twice.
“
Think back to what happened this morning. What was your biggest mistake?
”

“
Making a first-class fool of myself,
”
Gary replied without hesitation.

I shook my head.

Gary looked seriously alarmed. “
You mean I did some
thing
wo
rse
?
”

“Well, yes, i
n a way. Your biggest mistake was asking a yes-or-no question.
”

“
That’s bad?
”

“
It
i
s when you want to start a conversation. You ask the question. Colette says yes or no, and then she leaves. You have to ask
her something that requires more than a one-word answer.
Make
her talk to you!
”

“
Or else she'll take her ball and go home,
”
Gary
said with a grin.

“
Exactly! Now, let’s t
r
y it,
”
I said, tossing him the basketball,
“
I
’ll be Colette, and you start a conversation with me.
”

“
Okay.
”
Gary dribbled the ball a couple of times, then tossed it back to me.
“
What do you think of Mrs. Adamson’s history class?
”