Beauty by Lisa Daily Page A

Cho, the exchange student from China, but then she met Sam Chu, president of the AV club, and I was as good as forgotten. Without Sarah, I’d gotten stuck working with Mr. Templeton during our golf section. Not only was he our teacher, which was bad enough, but he also weighed approximately three hundred pounds and sweated profusely during any type of physical activity. Why he chose to teach gym in the first place, I had no idea. All I knew was that when he helped me practice my golf swing, the smell got so bad I almost fainted.
    “Go ahead,” Mr. Templeton said, gesturing for us all to get started. I watched as everyone scrambled into their usual pairings. It was like a game of musical chairs; we had an odd number of students in the class and no one wanted to be the last man standing. I took a deep breath, making the most of my last few seconds of clean, un-Mr.-Templeton-tainted air.
    I was still stocking up on fresh oxygen when someone tapped me on the shoulder. “What do you say, Molly? Want to partner up?”
    I spun around to find myself face-to-face with Hudson Taylor.
    Hudson wanted to partner with me? What was with today? Across the room, I caught Lauren Kaplan, Hudson’s usual partner and the perpetual top of the cheerleading pyramid, giving me a glare so cold it could freeze lava. Mr. Templeton was heading in her direction, holding two badminton racquets, several beads of sweat already gathering at his temple.
    “Sure,” I said quickly, shifting a little so Lauren was out of my line of sight. “Sounds good.”
    “Cool. I’ll get our stuff.” Hudson jogged over to the equipment bin and grabbed two racquets and several birdies.
    “So, you any good at this?” he asked as he tossed me a racquet.
    I looked down at the foreign object in my hand. I couldn’t even remember how to hold it. “Actually,” I admitted, “I’m kind of terrible.” At this and at every other sport known to man , I thought—but I kept that part to myself.
    “That’s fine,” Hudson said easily. “Because I’m kind of a master.” As if to demonstrate, he raised his paddle in the air and, tossing the birdie after it, smashed it clear over the net.
    “Masterful,” I agreed solemnly.
    Hudson laughed. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll get you there too.”
    We’ll.
    As in him and me. Together.
    I felt giddy all of a sudden, like I was so weightless I could float right up to the sky. How had I dreaded gym class for all these years?
    “Okay,” Hudson said. “I’ll toss, you hit.” He threw the birdie into the air and I reached up to hit it—and completely missed. Hudson chuckled, exposing his dimple. “One more time.” He tossed the birdie up. I wrinkled my forehead in concentration as I reached, reached, and—missed again. I was always bad at sports, but with Hudson standing so close, watching my every move, I was worse than ever.
    “You know what?” Hudson said after my fifth miss in a row. “I think I see what’s going on here.”
    “You do?” I bit down on my lip. Could he tell how much trouble I was having keeping my eyes on the birdie instead of him?
    “Yeah,” he said. “You’re holding the racquet completely wrong.” I blew out a sigh of relief. “Here, I’ll show you.” Hudson dropped his racquet and birdie onto the ground and stepped behind me. He wrapped his arms around my sides, placing one of his hands over each of mine. My heart thudded loudly and I coughed a little, trying to cover up the noise. “See, your grip should be like this,” he explained, adjusting my hands. “And your arms should be more here… .” He was so close I could smell his deodorant, something citrusy and spicy. His skin brushed against mine and I felt a thousand tiny shivers race down my spine. “Feel better?” he asked.
    “Mm-hmm,” I murmured. Though, of course, I wasn’t talking about the racquet. Across the room, Lauren Kaplan targeted me with another deadly glare, but I didn’t even care.