for basketball because of his height and intimidation potential. It got worse after his father died of a heart attack when Jake was only eight. No one could think of a single thing to say to him, especially after he was spotted in the local Smitty’s buying enough frozen dinners to last him and his mother a month.
Jake knew then that he was never going to be popular, so he settled for being smart. Nine years later, he ended up with a scholarship to Arizona State University and, as it turned out, with Joanne Newsome, who was smarter than he was, and certainly more beautiful.
They met on Central High’s cross-country track course, a cemetery in the summer, with runners in various stages of asphyxia and dehydration sprawled across the dusty path. Joanne Newsome, though, was known for running five miles every afternoon, even when the mercury climbed to one hundred and twenty. She was famous for downing three gallons of bottled water a day and looking so sweat-sheened and hot, guys had been known to pass out from the strain of wanting her.
She was easy to spot. Not only was she tall and thin and the only thing moving on summer afternoons,her hair was flaming red. She was the only color in the desert, and when she jogged past the Central High front lawn, where Jake was studying calculus, he immediately gave up on antiderivatives and decided to join the track team.
He could never catch her. Halfway across the track she’d be coming back the other way, still flying after five grueling miles. First, she wouldn’t even look at him. Halfway through the semester, he was lucky if she smiled. One day, though, she stopped cold. He licked his lips when he saw the sweat trickling down her neck into the shadowed crevice between her breasts.
“You know,” she said, “you could just ask me out. It would be much easier.”
“Will you go out with me?”
“Absolutely not. You can’t even finish this course.”
She jogged off, laughing, and for the first time that semester, Jake finished the course—though by the end of it he was one of those prostrate bodies, his legs and lungs on fire, but his heart burning for more.
He ran the course all season, until the day before state championships, when he was fast enough to catch Joanne’s shadow. Her hair slapped his forehead, and he was delighted to find it smelled like burnt sugar. She showed up at his locker half an hour later. “All right,” she said. “How about Friday?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. I just wanted to make sure you were.”
They went to Trudy’s Kitchen, where Joanne ordered everything in sight. Double cheeseburger, onion rings, strawberry milkshake, grilled cheese. Jake just ordered a salad.
“I can’t keep weight on,” Joanne whispered, then glanced around to see if anyone had heard. “Don’t tellJill Eardly I said that. My God, she’s crazy about her weight. Throws up after every meal, I swear to God.”
“You going to be a professional runner?” he asked.
Joanne laughed. She had a deep, gritty laugh, as if she’d taken in more sand than she realized on those jogs. “God, no. My parents … they’re
the
Newsomes, you know. My dad’s CEO of At-Tel Electronics. My mom’s, like, this force.”
Jake nodded, even though he had no idea what she was talking about.
“Anyway,” she went on, lunging at the food when it came, “they want me to marry well. That’s, like, their only ambition for me. They think I’ll be studying art or home economics at ASU, but I’m actually signed up as a business major. By the time I graduate, they won’t have a clue what hit them.”
She laughed again, then finished her hamburger in three minutes flat. She started on the onion rings, eating each one whole. Jake couldn’t eat; it was too much of a marvel watching her.
“I know it,” she said. “I’m hideous. But Mom won’t let our cook make anything that isn’t healthy. Did you know there are thirty-six hundred ways to prepare eggplant? My God,
Jake knew then that he was never going to be popular, so he settled for being smart. Nine years later, he ended up with a scholarship to Arizona State University and, as it turned out, with Joanne Newsome, who was smarter than he was, and certainly more beautiful.
They met on Central High’s cross-country track course, a cemetery in the summer, with runners in various stages of asphyxia and dehydration sprawled across the dusty path. Joanne Newsome, though, was known for running five miles every afternoon, even when the mercury climbed to one hundred and twenty. She was famous for downing three gallons of bottled water a day and looking so sweat-sheened and hot, guys had been known to pass out from the strain of wanting her.
She was easy to spot. Not only was she tall and thin and the only thing moving on summer afternoons,her hair was flaming red. She was the only color in the desert, and when she jogged past the Central High front lawn, where Jake was studying calculus, he immediately gave up on antiderivatives and decided to join the track team.
He could never catch her. Halfway across the track she’d be coming back the other way, still flying after five grueling miles. First, she wouldn’t even look at him. Halfway through the semester, he was lucky if she smiled. One day, though, she stopped cold. He licked his lips when he saw the sweat trickling down her neck into the shadowed crevice between her breasts.
“You know,” she said, “you could just ask me out. It would be much easier.”
“Will you go out with me?”
“Absolutely not. You can’t even finish this course.”
She jogged off, laughing, and for the first time that semester, Jake finished the course—though by the end of it he was one of those prostrate bodies, his legs and lungs on fire, but his heart burning for more.
He ran the course all season, until the day before state championships, when he was fast enough to catch Joanne’s shadow. Her hair slapped his forehead, and he was delighted to find it smelled like burnt sugar. She showed up at his locker half an hour later. “All right,” she said. “How about Friday?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. I just wanted to make sure you were.”
They went to Trudy’s Kitchen, where Joanne ordered everything in sight. Double cheeseburger, onion rings, strawberry milkshake, grilled cheese. Jake just ordered a salad.
“I can’t keep weight on,” Joanne whispered, then glanced around to see if anyone had heard. “Don’t tellJill Eardly I said that. My God, she’s crazy about her weight. Throws up after every meal, I swear to God.”
“You going to be a professional runner?” he asked.
Joanne laughed. She had a deep, gritty laugh, as if she’d taken in more sand than she realized on those jogs. “God, no. My parents … they’re
the
Newsomes, you know. My dad’s CEO of At-Tel Electronics. My mom’s, like, this force.”
Jake nodded, even though he had no idea what she was talking about.
“Anyway,” she went on, lunging at the food when it came, “they want me to marry well. That’s, like, their only ambition for me. They think I’ll be studying art or home economics at ASU, but I’m actually signed up as a business major. By the time I graduate, they won’t have a clue what hit them.”
She laughed again, then finished her hamburger in three minutes flat. She started on the onion rings, eating each one whole. Jake couldn’t eat; it was too much of a marvel watching her.
“I know it,” she said. “I’m hideous. But Mom won’t let our cook make anything that isn’t healthy. Did you know there are thirty-six hundred ways to prepare eggplant? My God,
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