“Is he a good president?” I asked.
“The best,” my stepdad affirmed. “He’s brought stability and security to the country. He’s even got a decent foreign policy. The country is going to do better economically because of him.”
“I don’t know,” my mother said. “My parents believed that the Republicans were only out to benefit rich people. My folks always voted Democratic.”
“The Republicans ended the Vietnam War and brought our boys home. As for Ronald Reagan, I voted for him twice, and just about the entire country did the same. You’ve been outvoted.”
“Guess I have at that.” Mom didn’t seem troubled by the disagreement. She never took politics to heart the way my stepdad did.
I followed my mother’s example. For me, history was what happened while we ordinary folks lived our lives. I guess the only problem came when history affected our lives — like with the war in Vietnam.
****
Our house is little more than a bungalow with a small front room, kitchen, two bedrooms and an attic, but it's very homey, and best of all it's close to the ocean. On quiet nights, I imagine I can hear the sea, although Mom says we're really too far away. Yet I believe the rhythm of the sea puts me to sleep.
In my dreams that night, I saw a tall, handsome blond boy with dazzling blue eyes smiling at me. I heard him call my name and I reached for him. There was a beautiful golden halo around his head.
“Are you an angel?” I asked him, awed by his incandescence.
“Yes, I’m your angel,” he said.
Then I was being kissed by Gar Hansen. I woke up feeling foolish. Gar Hansen, an angel? How could I have dreamt such a thing? That stuck-up snob was never going to notice me. And who wanted him to anyway? Me, that’s who! I had to tell the truth to myself. I mean, who was I kidding? Of course, I wanted him to notice me. Still, I knew how foolish it was and unrealistic besides.
I started to tell Joyce about my weird dream the next day in the library, but thought better of it. I figured she’d probably laugh in my face. I didn’t want my friend to think less of me.
Joyce and I generally took our study hall in the library because it was quiet and we could really work there. I was concentrating on my geometry and praying that I'd be given a tutor soon when I felt someone's eyes on me. At first, I thought it was my imagination. But no, there was a boy across the room just sitting there staring at me. I didn't dare to look at him. I tried hard to ignore him and concentrate on my work, but I couldn't. Every time I looked up, there he was staring at me still. Joyce didn't notice; she was too caught up in her book.
I figured he was playing some dumb game at my expense. Finally, becoming angry, I stared back. Then I really looked at him and truly saw him. His wavy, black hair caught the light and his eyes were dark as coal. He smiled at me, bold and cocky. I blushed and turned away. Then I elbowed Joyce who mumbled something derogatory and continued her reading.
"There's some guy at that table over there staring at me," I whispered.
"What?" She surfaced from her book like a diver with the bends.
"Is there anything weirder than usual about my appearance? Do I have poppy seeds caught between my front teeth from my roll at lunch?"
"You look fine." She was clearly annoyed.
"Don't be obvious," I whispered. "He's two tables away and he keeps looking at me. I don’t recognize him, do you? Just check him out, okay?"
She discreetly looked around. "You're right," Joyce said, eyes widening behind her thick glasses. "There's a good-looking, dark-haired guy staring in our direction. I’ve never seen him before. I’m certain of it. Are you sure you don’t know him from somewhere?"
"No, never saw him before either. I would have remembered. It's kind of weird."
"Just ignore him," Joyce suggested. "He'll get the message. Obviously, he has nothing better to do, so he's decided to be a pain."
I forced myself to read my book, although I really couldn't absorb a word of it. Once more, I glanced up to find him looking directly at me. He smiled again and I couldn't help thinking he had the whitest teeth I'd ever seen. Jarred by the bell ringing at the end of the period, I gathered my things together. He seemed to be coming toward me. It struck me then: for the first time in my life, a boy was attempting to flirt with me, and a gorgeous one at that.
