The End of the Rainbow (Hudson 4)

"I see you've introduced yourself to my roommate already," Sarah said finally noticing. She stepped up beside him. He wasn't much more than six feet tall, but when Sarah stood next to him, he looked like an NBA basketball player.

"Not really." Duncan said. "I don't know her name. Why don't you be nice and introduce us formally."

"Who wants to be nice?" Sarah quipped. Duncan raised his eyebrows and smiled. "All right, all right," Sarah said. "I'll introduce you formally. This is Summer Clarke and Summer, this is Duncan Fields."

"Hi," Duncan said. "I like your dress."

"Thank you."

Sarah jabbed him in the side with her elbow, "Hey!" he protested, grimacing with pain.

You didn't say anything about my dress. I thought you said I was the love of your life."

"You are," he declared. laughing.

"Yeah, right." She shook her head at me and returned to her place in the band.

"She's a barrel of laughs," he said. "Actually, she's one of the most talented trombone players for her age that I've played with, and I've been at a few of these music camps."

"I know she is."

"She likes you. She's always talking about you."

"Really? I was afraid we were too different to become friends," I said.

"You could probably become friends with anyone," he declared.

"How do you know that?" I challenged. I hated artificial compliments.

He laughed.

"A little bird told me," he replied. Then he grew serious and added. "When you've traveled a lot and met many different people, you get so you can tell pretty quickly who are the real people and who aren't."

I stared, unable to speak for a moment. His eyes were so strong, so sincere. He smiled and looked at the band.

"Got to get to work. See you later," Duncan told me, "if Burnsy doesn't kill me first."

I had to confess that I was surprised at how nice he was. Despite his good looks and talent, he didn't seem to be full of himself as did so many of the other boys here, yet he had a real sophisticated air about him.

I stood there for a while watching the musicians start to work out their program. Duncan was serious and professional about it. My presence didn't distract him.

After a few more minutes. I retreated to join the girls now streaming into the ballroom. So many of them were talking about Duncan. Bits and pieces fell around me. His father owned a computer

manufacturing company in Delaware. He had two older brothers, one just graduating law school. His mother was a well-known socialite who served on national charity committees and was involved in raising campaign money for important Republican senators. They had a winter home in Palm Beach. Florida, as well as a mansion in Wilmington. Delaware. His parents usually spent most of their summers in Southern France and he had attended prestigious music schools in Europe. This was his first summer in a long time to be spent in America. He was one of the few boys on campus who had his own car and permission to go just about anywhere he wanted on his free time.

When the band began to play, the dancing started. Duncan moved rapidly to the forefront and at times, the whole school paused to listen to him. I saw many of my girlfriends swooning. For some reason it annoyed me, and when I gave it some thought, I think I was annoyed because they were all so obvious.

Before long. Duncan took his first break and disappointed some of the girls who had been eagerly anticipating his attention. Instead, he headed directly for me, joining me at the food table. Without asking, he took the plate from my hand and put it on a table.

"That can wait, can't it?" he asked.

"No," I said, but he laughed, ignored me, and took me onto the dance floor. With everyone watching us so closely. I couldn't very well be unwilling. He was a good dancer, too, and with the band playing so well. I let myself get into the music, maybe too much. Out of the corners of my eyes. I could see other boys nodding to each other with admiration and lustful smiles, and same of the girls glaring with enough envy to drown the whole female population in green sop.

"I like how you move in that dress," Duncan whispered. "You're practically a work of art."

"Thank you. I guess," I said and he laughed.

"It's a compliment, trust me," he said. Then he really put himself into the dancing.