SVH09-Racing Hearts (3 page)

"Yeah, John, he's not so bad," put in Tony Esteban, who'd come in from the shower area just in time to hear Todd's comment, "if you happen to be a football player. He saves all his real coaching for them. When it comes to us runners, he's nothing but a drill sergeant."

"And you can bet he's going to make the guys who qualify for the race work their tails off," John added. "Nobody from Sweet Valley has won this race in years. He's hungry. You can see the fire in his eyes."

"That's not fire, John. It's fear," said Bruce. "If you ask me, I think the coach's days here as athletic director are numbered--and winning the race has nothing to do with it."

John whipped around and gave Bruce a fierce look. "What are you talking about, Patman?"

"Last week's school board meeting, that's what. My father said he never saw the coach so mad in his life. Seems the board turned down Schultz's request for more money--and he threatened to quit."

"I'd think even you could tell he was bluffing," John scoffed.

Bruce shook his head stubbornly. "No, I don't think so. I've never heard Dad say a word about

those meetings before, but he was pretty concerned when he came back this time. Take my word, guys, we may be seeing the coach's last hurrah."

Tony snorted. As a member of the track team, a team that had a far poorer record than any of the other ones at school, he'd been subjected to more of Coach Schultz's workouts and lectures than he cared to think about. "I say good riddance."

"Hey, Tony," John noted, "just because he made you do ten extra laps the other day doesn't mean he's not going to be missed."

"He doesn't have to coach track. He could hire someone else to do it. He should stick to football," Tony said stubbornly. "You're not going to see
me
working overtime for him and that race."

"Suit yourself," Bruce said. "That just makes my chances of winning that much better."

"Who cares?" Tony said. "I mean, if it were a long-distance race it would be a whole different story. But this isn't even my event. As far as I'm concerned, the best part about the Bart is the dance afterward."

"I'm with you on that," Bruce agreed. "As long as I win."

"Sure," John added. "So you can play the big hero role you do so well. Who're you going with?"

Bruce shrugged. "I haven't decided yet. What about you?"

"Oh, I don't know. Annie Whitman maybe."

The boys let out a chorus of whistles. "Have you made an appointment?" Tony questioned. "I've heard she's booked up for weeks and isn't going to quit until she's had a go at every guy in school."

"She's well on her way," Bruce noted. "Charlie Cashman took her up to Miller's Point on Saturday, and from the way he looked yesterday when I ran into him, all I can say is that he must have had a
very
good time."

"How about you, Bruce? She going to get a chance to work her magic on you?" Tony asked.

Bruce smiled slyly. "Only if she's lucky."

Jessica strode confidently into her father's law office that afternoon. "Hi, Mrs. Kelly, is my father in?"

"He's on the phone right now," the receptionist said, looking down at her telephone console. "He asked me to tell you to have a seat and make yourself comfortable."

"Fine," Jessica said cheerfully, settling down on one of the gray velvet couches in the waiting area.

She took a magazine from the glass coffee table and began to leaf through the pages, but she could concentrate only on the wonderful

experience that lay ahead of her. She was glad she'd decided to become a lawyer. Law was an exciting field to be in these days, she reflected, especially for a woman. For a second she thought of Joyce Davenport, the public defender on "Hill Street Blues." Now there was someone Jessica could admire. Glamorous, dedicated to her career, upholding the rights of others, yet still making time for romance.
That's the kind of lawyer I'd like to be,
Jessica thought, though a second later she discarded the notion. It was one thing to defend lost causes but quite another to have to defend really grizzly, dangerous criminals. Civil law, something more along the lines of her father's practice, was much better, she concluded. Conferring with other lawyers-- including lots of handsome men--certainly had to be at least as exciting, and a lot less dangerous. She wondered what case her father would have her work on first. She found herself relishing the prospect of working by his side, helping him prepare his clients' defenses. He spent a good deal of time at the county courthouse, and Jessica couldn't wait for her father to take her down there with him. From dinner-table conversation she recalled that one of the cases he was handling concerned someone who was suing George Fowler, Lila's father. The Fowlers had trod upon many helpless citizens of the town over the years, and her father was among a growing number of residents who were beginning

to stand up and fight against the Fowler power. She'd volunteer to help on that one. She thought gleefully about the prospect of being able to give the man what he had coming to him, not to mention gloating over her father's victory in front of Lila. Even though they were friends, there was an unspoken rivalry between the two of them.

Just then her father appeared, interrupting Jessica's thoughts. "Well, Jessica, are you ready to start?" He was smiling proudly.

Ned Wakefield had always hoped one of his children would take an interest in law, but never in his wildest dreams had he thought it would be Jessica. Delight shone in his face as his daughter smiled up at him and nodded. "Come along with me, honey," he said.

Jessica rose and followed her father. She was surprised when they didn't turn left down the short hall to his office but instead headed straight to the utility room in the back of the suite. "Jess," her father said, walking into the brightly lit room, "I don't think you've met my new office manager, Trudy Roman. She'll explain what needs to be done around here. Trudy, this is my daughter Jessica. I've got a lot of work to do, so I'll leave the two of you alone. Enjoy yourself, Jess, and if you have any questions, don't hesitate to speak up. Not that I've ever known you to stay silent when something was

on your mind," he added with a smile. He closed the door behind him as he left.

Jessica looked around the room. She'd hardly noticed it the few times she'd been up to her father's office in the past. Not that there was much worth noticing. One wall was lined with gray steel shelving filled with various office supplies and papers. On the other side of the room was a copying machine, and on a low table next to it was a big computer.

Trudy approached her with a stack of papers several inches thick. "Jessica, I want four copies of each of these documents, collated and stapled," she announced in a clipped, no- nonsense voice.

"What are they?" Jessica asked.

"Legal briefs," she responded. "Your father needs them right away. You know how to work a copying machine, don't you?"

"Oh, sure," Jessica said confidently. "There's nothing to it."

"Good," Trudy said. "I've got things to do in ] the outer offices, so you'll be on your own here. I'll be in the conference room if you need me."

Jessica sighed as she began to feed the papers into the machine. She wondered if Joyce Davenport had started in the copy room. Although Jessica had never operated her father's copier before, she'd run off dozens of copies of cheers on a similar machine in the principal's office. The work was monotonous, and after about

five minutes of it she was ready to climb the walls. This wasn't the kind of job she'd bargained for. Looking around the room, she discovered a portable radio on one of the shelves and tuned it to the local rock station. At least the music would help relieve the dreariness.

Not for long. Less than a minute later Trudy marched into the office. "What do you think you're doing, Miss Wakefield?"

"Making copies, as you wanted," Jessica said, not bothering to hide her boredom.

Trudy clicked off the radio. "Not with that noise machine you're not. Your father asked me to come in here and remind you that this is an office, not a disco," she proclaimed. "I suggest you get back to work."

"Battle-ax," Jessica hissed after Trudy closed the door behind her. How dare that woman order her around? Jessica wondered what act of desperation had made her father hire this tyrant.

It took her nearly an hour and a half to finish her assignment. Before giving them to Trudy, however, Jessica decided to take a look at some of the documents she'd been copying, figuring that was how her father expected her to learn. From the wording at the top, they appeared to have something to do with real estate, though even after she began reading, Jessica wasn't exactly sure. The documents were in English-- sort of--but the language was so convoluted that it was beginning to give her a headache. It

made for even duller reading than her chemistry text.

This was law? she thought. Where was the excitement of court cases, the challenge of defending the people that her father was always talking about? This was no fun at all. The realization, coupled with the thought of having to be at Trudy's constant beck and call, suddenly made the thought of spending another day in that office unbearable.

She carried the stack of documents into the conference room. "I've finished," she told Trudy. "Now what?"

"Go to the office-supplies store downstairs and get another box of these forms." Opening up one of the files on the table, she handed Jessica a standard legal form.

Jessica took her time walking down the narrow hallway to the elevator. She didn't think her father would be too proud of her when she told him she'd had enough of this job after only one day. While waiting for the elevator to arrive, she began to think how she could break the news to him. She was sure she'd come up with a plausible excuse. She always did.

"You new here?"

Lost in her scheming, Jessica was startled by a voice. She turned around to see where it came from--and definitely liked what she saw. Over six feet tall, with wavy golden hair and smiling brown eyes, the boy who'd asked the question

was leaning lazily against the wall. "What makes you think I work here?" she asked.

"No pocketbook," he said, moving closer. "I don't know of any girl who'd be walking around here without a pocketbook unless she had it stashed away somewhere in an office drawer."

"How do you know so much about feminine habits?" she asked. "Or do
you
keep a pocketbook hidden away, too?"

He laughed. "When you work in an office, you notice those things," he said just as the elevator arrived. Graciously he held out his arm. "After you, um ..."

"Jessica," she said, stepping inside. "Jessica Wakefield."

"Not
the
Jessica Wakefield," he said. "Daughter of Ned Wakefield, attorney at law?"

"So you read office signs. I'm impressed," Jessica said, a teasing note in her voice. Working in her father's office might have its rewards after all. Already she was beginning to feel a tingle of excitement at the prospect of being in this boy's arms. But she didn't want him to know that--at least not until she had enough time to gauge his interest. Adjusting her tone slightly, she asked politely, "And you are--?"

He extended a hand. "Dennis Creighton. I work part-time at my dad's ad agency across the hall from your father. How come I haven't seen you around here before?"

"Today's my first day on the job."
And my

last,
she thought. But something made her hold back that information. It was the glint in Dennis's eyes. She'd seen that look too many times not to realize that it meant he was clearly taken with her.
So far, so good,
she thought, her own attraction mounting with each passing moment. A guy like Dennis could even be enough of a lure to make her want to stay on the job just a little while longer. "I'm on my way to the office- supplies store," she told him, holding out the form in her hand.

The glint in Dennis's eyes worked its way down to his mouth, where a small smile was taking shape. "And how does it feel to be a working woman?" he asked. "Training for the secretarial life?"

"Oh, no," Jessica said, letting the fire from her blue-green eyes emphasize her words. "I'm planning to be a lawyer."

Dennis was definitely impressed. "Just what I like, a girl with ambition," he said as they arrived at the main floor. "I hate girls who think planning ahead means picking out a new bathing suit to wear to the beach the next weekend."

"I know what you mean," Jessica said, rolling her eyes meaningfully as she stepped out of the elevator. "I know too many girls like that, and the only people they interest are themselves." She didn't hesitate to add, "Of course I never pay any attention to them." She didn't

want Dennis to think even for a moment that she might be that kind of girl.

Dennis followed her out of the elevator. "No, I wouldn't think a girl like you would have to waste her time on such trivial things--especially now that you're working. How do you like your new job?"

"It's wonderful," Jessica lied. "I'm so lucky my father's giving me this opportunity to be here."

"Yeah, fathers are good for that," Dennis agreed.

Jessica turned her head back slightly as she continued to walk toward the store. "So how come I've never seen you around school?"

"Maybe you haven't been looking closely enough," he said in a husky voice.

"No, I pretty much know everyone at Sweet Valley High. Oh, I know. You go to the college, right? I don't know too many people there except for my sister's friend Enid's boyfriend. George Warren. Know him?" There was a time when Jessica might have fibbed and said she went to Sweet Valley College if she felt it might make a good impression. But lying about her age had once gotten her into big trouble with a boy, and she wasn't about to make that mistake again. It was one of the few areas where she believed that honesty was the best policy.

Dennis seemed to hesitate a moment before answering. "I'm not in college. I go to El Carro."