SVH09-Racing Hearts (6 page)

continued, leading Roger into the administration office suite.

Smiling modestly, Roger- took a seat on Mr. Cooper's plush green couch. Right in the middle of the principal's wooden desk was the microphone from which he made his daily announcements about school activities, rules, and anything else that came to his mind. "I'm going to be late for class," Roger said.

"No need to worry about that, Roger. I just had to call you in here to congratulate you. Why, do you know how fast you ran?" the principal asked, resting himself on the edge of his desk.

"No, sir," Roger admitted.

"My boy, you set a school record: four minutes, five point five seconds."

"Really?" Roger was astonished. Although he knew he was fast, he'd never timed himself and had had no idea he was capable of running
that
quickly.

"Coach Schultz told me2 we haven't had anyone as fast as you since some fella back in fifty-six. Of course I wasn't here at the time, so I've got to take the coach's word for it. But believe me, Roger, I liked what I saw out there." He paused, then frowned slightly. "Weren't you wearing those clothes outt on the field?"

"Yes, sir," Roger said with shame. "It's all I have."

Mr. Cooper leaned over his desk to his intercom.

"Rosemary," he spoke into it. "Bring me one of those sweat suits, please--in a large." Looking back at Roger, he said, "Don't you worry, my boy, we'll have you out of those things in no time."

"Really, Mr. Cooper, you don't have to--" Roger began.

"Of course I don't. It's my pleasure," Mr. Cooper said. "I don't have to tell you how important the Bart is. Big press coverage. And no one from Sweet Valley has won in years. You're our only hope, Roger. We're counting on you."

"I don't know "

"Where's your confidence, my boy? The coach tells me you didn't even practice for the race. With a little help and work, you could break four minutes at the Bart. Nobody from any of the other schools runs like that. Why, hardly anyone in the country does. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

Roger knew only too well. The Bart could be the first rung of a ladder that could lead to the state track finals, NCAAs, the AAUs--perhaps even the Olympics.
Could.
Perhaps for a boy like Bruce Patman, who had the time and money to devote to nurturing his talent. Not someone like Roger, who had to retire from racing even before he got started. What good was talent when you couldn't develop it?

Before Roger could tell Mr. Cooper that he

wouldn't be able to run, Rosemary entered the office with an official Sweet Valley High warm-up suit. Roger's eyes opened wide. He'd seen the suit many times in the school store and had always longed to have one just like it. But coming up with the thirty dollars it cost was next to impossible for him.

Mr. Cooper took it from Rosemary and handed it to Roger. "From everyone at Sweet Valley to you."

"Thank you," Roger said. "I don't know what to say."

"Just say you're going to break four minutes next Saturday afternoon. We're counting on you."

With the blue running outfit now in his hands, Roger couldn't muster up the nerve to tell Mr. Cooper he wouldn't be there. "Th-thank you," Roger said, rising from his seat. "I--I really have to get to class now."

Feeling a bit like a little boy with a new Christmas present, Roger walked out into the deserted hallway and entered the first bathroom he could find. Shedding his faded fatigues and ragged T-shirt, he tried on the new sweats. They couldn't have fit any better if they had been custom-made, and with the bright red Sweet Valley High emblem, he truly felt like a winner. He ached to savor the feeling as long as he could.

Even champions couldn't escape the mediocrity of the Sweet Valley High cafeteria food. As Roger passed through the lunch line later that morning, he halfheartedly grabbed a plate of the day's entree, beef goulash.

Jessica and Lila were already sitting at a table as he moved through the line.

"Now there's a class-A bod," Lila said, admiring the back of the lean, tall boy dressed in a blue running suit.

"You can't even see his face from here," Jessica pointed out. "But I can see even in those baggy sweats that everything's in the right place."

"Wonder who he is?" Lila asked, then gasped as he turned around and headed for the cashier. "Good grief, it's Roger!"

"So he finally traded in his ditchdigging outfit for some real clothes," Jessica added.

In his new outfit Roger fit in well with the rest of the Sweet Valley students. He didn't look different at all.

"Hey, look what I've been missing out on," Lila said admiringly. "You know, that guy
is
kind of cute when you think about it. I was only kidding around with him after the race, but you might have a point, Jess, about the value of hanging out with him for a while."

"The same guy you've been calling a nerd for months?" Jessica said with amusement.

"That was before," Lila proclaimed. "It's like Liz is always saying. I'm too quick to judge people by their appearances. I should have known that underneath those grungy clothes was a guy worth knowing." She rose from her chair.

"Hey, where are you going?" Jessica asked.

Lila winked. "Be back in a flash."

She reached Roger just as he was paying for his lunch. "Where are you going with that tray?" she asked.

Scanning the room quickly, Roger spotted Olivia sitting at a corner table in the back of the room. "Over there," he said, pointing in that general direction.

"No, you're not," Lila announced with finality. "You're coming with me."

Delighted by the prospect, Roger followed her to her table. Jessica, seeing the two of them approach, was doing all she could to suppress her astonishment at the entire chain of events. She still couldn't believe Lila was seriously interested in Roger.

But from the look of awe in Lila's eyes, it appeared she was. "I saved this seat for you," she told him, taking his tray and setting it down for him. "I'm sure you know how proud everyone is of you."

"Thank you, Lila," he said. "You realize that

if it hadn't been for you, I probably wouldn't have run today."

"I'm so glad you had the good sense to listen."

"We knew you had it in you from the way you run around campus all the time." Jessica decided to add her two cents' worth just in case Lila was playing for keeps.

"Practice makes perfect," he said weakly, reaching for the roll on his plate.

"Oooh, let me do that," Lila said, taking the pat of butter and his knife away from him.

This is getting crazier by the minute,
Jessica thought. Lila must have been more desperate for a boy than she'd realized.

Just then Bruce walked by with Ken Matthews. "Say, Mr. Wonderful." Lila grabbed Bruce by his custom-tailored shirt and made him stop in his tracks. "Aren't you going to congratulate my friend over here?"

"Your
friend?" Bruce said sarcastically. He didn't dare continue, though, as Lila glared at him. The girl could be dangerous if she wanted, and even Bruce lay back when he could see she meant business.

"Yes, my friend," she said. "My
dear
friend Roger, the champion of Sweet Valley. So what do you say, Bruce?"

"Congratulations, Roger." Setting down his tray on an adjacent table, he extended his hand to Roger, who shook it with pleasure. "What can I say? You ran a great race."

"So did you, Bruce."

"But don't get too cocky," Bruce added, "because now that I know you're around, I'm going to be prepared. Just keep your eyes open next week. And let that be a warning to you."

Roger wasn't about to say there wasn't going to be a next week for him, not with the adoration he could see in Lila's eyes. The hug she'd given him on the field wasn't a farce. She truly liked him.

Even if he'd been inclined to confess the truth right then, he would have been stopped by John Pfeifer, who approached the group. "Well, well, I'm in luck. I caught the two champions at once. Congratulations, guys. Roger, can I talk to you later? I want to do a special profile on
you for
The Oracle."

"I'm busy after school," Roger admitted.

"I understand. Practice and all," John answered for him. "Maybe we can talk now. What I'm really interested in is where you learned to run so well."

"I kind of fell into it. You know me," he answered lightly, "always running around campus and everything."

"But you must be doing all that running for a reason. Where do you run
to
after school, for instance?"

Roger felt himself redden. "Oh, nowhere in particular," he fibbed. "You know the old saying, run for your life? There's a history of heart

disease in my family, and I want to make sure that nothing happens to me." That much was true; his mother did suffer from a heart ailment that had forced her to retire from her assembly- line job at one of the Patman factories. "Running around the way I do helps build up the cardiovascular system."

"Aha, an athlete who knows his biology," John said admiringly.

"Well, I'd like to be a doctor someday." Roger revealed his most precious dream.

"A doctor?" Lila's opinion of Roger shot up another ten points. "What kind?"

Jessica smirked. "Does it make any difference to you, Lila?"

Lila looked at her friend as if she were a pile of dirt. "I just thought, Roger, that with your interest in the heart, you might be thinking about heart surgery or something like that."

"To tell you the truth, Lila, I haven't made up my mind," he said, not adding that at this point he would be lucky if he could put himself through college, let alone medical school. "But cardiology is certainly a strong possibility."

"I'm very impressed," Lila said.

Meanwhile, at another table, Elizabeth sat down with Enid and Todd. It was the first chance she'd had to be with her boyfriend since the race, and she was dying to know why he'd run.

Todd put down his fork as he began speaking. "It doesn't make any difference. I didn't qualify."

"Hey, that doesn't matter to me," Elizabeth said sympathetically.

"Yeah, Todd," Enid added, smiling, "we still like you."

Todd grinned. "Oh, I knew I didn't really have a shot. Yesterday Bruce got me riled up enough to want to enter the race but it wasn't until I heard about the coach this morning that I actually decided to do it. You know, just to show some support for him and the running program." He leaned back, propping his long legs up on the chair opposite his. "I'm sure going to miss the old guy."

"Miss him? Where's he going?" Elizabeth asked.

"Haven't you heard? The coach is retiring after the Bart."

"You mean the board's actually forcing him out? I didn't think they could do that."

Todd shook his head violently. "Hey, that's not it at all." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "The word is he's a very sick man."

"Where'd you hear that?" Elizabeth grew concerned.

"Neil O'Donovan told me he'd overheard the coach talking to a doctor about some tests. Neil couldn't tell for certain, but he said it seemed as if they were talking about the big C."

"Cancer." Elizabeth shuddered. "You mean he's sick enough to have to leave school?"

"Poor guy," Enid said. "And here I thought

he was just having hassles with the board. At least he has a great chance to go out a winner. Roger Barrett was fantastic."

"Yeah, you should have been on the track with him," Todd said admiringly. "I used to think I moved pretty quickly, but that guy practically broke the sound barrier."

"Well, it looks as if he's recuperating from the race in grand style," Elizabeth noted wryly, amused at the way Lila was putting her hands all over him, claiming him as her personal prize.

A few minutes before the bell rang, Roger jumped out of his seat as if he suddenly remembered something important. "Please excuse me, Lila. I've got to go."

"OK, Roger. See you at the Dairi Burger?" When he shook his head, she said, "Oh, yeah, you've got practice. I'll call you tonight, OK?"

"I'd love it," he responded.

Still carrying his empty tray, he approached Olivia, who'd chosen to avoid the crowd in favor of spending the entire lunch break in a corner huddled over her note pad. Strong emotions such as hurt and envy always brought out the best of her poetic instincts, and without even realizing it, she had managed to pour out nearly five pages in that short span of time.

Roger took a seat next to her and, as was his custom, made a move to read what she had written. But Olivia snatched up the pad and

closed it before he had a chance to see a word. "Hey, why can't I see it?" he asked.

"It's not very good," she lied, unwilling to have him read her most private thoughts, the ones that concerned him and his apparent preference for Lila over her.

"Won't you let me be the judge of that?"

"I think I'm a pretty fair judge of my own work," she said with uncharacteristic bitterness.

Roger picked up on her moodiness. "Liv, what's wrong?"

She tossed back her long hair. "Nothing's wrong, Roger. Things have never been better."

Olivia had never been much of a liar, and Roger sensed a problem. "Hey, did something happen in one of your classes this morning?" he pursued.

"No," she said. "I told you everything's fine. Don't worry about me, OK?"

Roger shook his head. "No, it's not OK. You're hiding something, Liv. You seemed to be pretty upset after the race, too, and I want to know why. Are you mad at me about something?"

"Of course not!" Olivia lied. "Why in the world would I be mad at you?"

"Beats me." Roger shrugged. "I mean, I'd never intentionally do anything to hurt you."

Olivia didn't have the nerve to confess what was truly bothering her. "An apology's not necessary, Rog. I'm just in one of my silly moods. It'll pass."

"Are you sure? I hate to see you so down."

"Don't let it worry you. Really. The blues do have their advantages, believe it or not. Some of my favorite poems were written from the depths of depression. But let's not talk about me. After all, this is your special day." Olivia forced herself to smile.