reminds me, Belinda. Here are my notes from English
literature class."
"Oh, thank you, Peter. That's so sweet." "Sweeter than the candy?" I asked. Belinda
laughed.
"My sister is so funny sometimes," she
explained. She took the notes and put them beside her.
"I'll do some studying later."
"That will be unusual," I remarked under my
breath, but loud enough to be heard.
"Olivia!"
"You know you have to pass the final in
English to graduate, Belinda."
"You said you'd help me study," she whined.
The boys looked from her to me to her as we spoke. "I will if you're serious about trying." "I am."
"I'll come up and study with you this week,"
Peter offered quickly.
"That's very nice of you, Peter. See, someone
cares about me," she cried with delight. Her eyes slid
from one boy to the other, melting each one into a
doting admirer as she passed her gaze like a
benediction, turning them into worshipers in seconds.
The sight disgusted me.
Where were the real men of today? I couldn't
imagine Daddy acting like this when he was their age. "I wish you had been at the game, Belinda.
When I threw that last pitch . ."
"There you go again, talking sports. If you don't
stop, I'll close my eyes and fall asleep," she
threatened.
If the conversation didn't center around her, she
wasn't interested.