man her mother planned to marry.
Alice was trembling with relief. Mom cared. Of course Mom cared; how could Alice have thought for a moment that she did not care? Of course Mom had stayed by the phone, and would be sobbing even harder now, aching and yearning for Alice to call, so Mom could take back what she had said, could explain and apologize.
Alice lifted her arm to wave. She opened her mouth to call, thinking friend , thinking ally , and thought: Wait. Over joyed.
Was she feeling too much joy?
Alice stepped back, trying to be a college girl among college girls.
Her parents had argued over Rick darling. Dad and Mom had said terrible things to each other about Mom’s dating. Alice had fled the room and let them have their arguments without her. She hated raised voices, but especially her own mother and father at war.
Through the glimmery focus of her new glasses, she saw Rick Rellen glance at the group of girls. Alice’s hair was up beneath her baseball cap, and Alice never put her hair up, because she believed her left ear stuck out, and it was unbearable to let the world see her ear. Now, in nerd glasses, pathetic T-shirt, cap, and protruding ear, Alice wondered if Mr. Rellen would recognize her.
In Dad’s honor, Alice had avoided him as much as possible.
She did not know whether she actually disliked Mr. Rellen, or if she was working on it for Dad’s sake, or if this was her personal contribution to strife: her way to make her mother pay.
Whatever he was, he was not a parent. Alice was ready to talk to her mother. She was not ready to talk to the future second husband of that mother.
It startled Alice to be so sure of that. It was the first thing all this long hard day that she was sure of: She was not going to confide in Rick Rellen.
“Oh, I know the woman you mean,” chimed in a third girl. “She used to be in charge at Flemming Dorm. You’re right, Bethany, she never does anything to help you. She says you have to learn to take things in stride.”
The girls made noises of disgust and headed for a big, heavy-duty, take-the-class-with-you-to-Disney-World Econo-line van. Swivel seats, privacy glass, the works. The girls piled in. Bethany was the driver.
Alice took off her glasses, hoping she looked eighteen and not twelve. “Hey, listen, I hate to bother you,” she said, “but can you give me a lift back to the campus? I think my boyfriend has abandoned me here.”
It was a sisterhood moment. They had things to do, and they did not want to be bothered, but still, they could not drive away from a woman whose boyfriend had proved unreliable. “Well, okay,” said Bethany sullenly.
Alice climbed in, said “Thank you,” and sat in back, where she would not bother them. The shock of being pursued had left every joint weak, every muscle trembling. The backseat would be a very short vacation from running.
The State University campus was also on 145, maybe ten miles from Mom’s, maybe half that from Dad’s or Westtown Mall. So Alice had covered a lot of territory in order to get nowhere.
Ten miles took enough time, however, to ask herself what she was doing, and why.
The van moved slowly out into the traffic.
The Volvo idled beside parallel-parked cars. Rick Rellen’s left elbow stuck out the driver’s window. Cradled in his hand was a car phone.
Chapter 5
S TRANGELY ISOLATED IN THE back of somebody else’s van and the back of somebody else’s conversation, Alice found herself able to reach the back of her own mind. The desire to talk to her mother had disappeared. The need to weep for her father had left her chest.
She began to reconstruct the day.
She’d been home by herself. Dad called. He urgently requested her to leave the house with the disk TWIN and to meet him out of town. He gave her the extraordinary order to drive his most precious possession—a car she could not drive. So Dad desperately wanted those disks. Did he just want them—or did he want them out of the house?
Alice was trembling with relief. Mom cared. Of course Mom cared; how could Alice have thought for a moment that she did not care? Of course Mom had stayed by the phone, and would be sobbing even harder now, aching and yearning for Alice to call, so Mom could take back what she had said, could explain and apologize.
Alice lifted her arm to wave. She opened her mouth to call, thinking friend , thinking ally , and thought: Wait. Over joyed.
Was she feeling too much joy?
Alice stepped back, trying to be a college girl among college girls.
Her parents had argued over Rick darling. Dad and Mom had said terrible things to each other about Mom’s dating. Alice had fled the room and let them have their arguments without her. She hated raised voices, but especially her own mother and father at war.
Through the glimmery focus of her new glasses, she saw Rick Rellen glance at the group of girls. Alice’s hair was up beneath her baseball cap, and Alice never put her hair up, because she believed her left ear stuck out, and it was unbearable to let the world see her ear. Now, in nerd glasses, pathetic T-shirt, cap, and protruding ear, Alice wondered if Mr. Rellen would recognize her.
In Dad’s honor, Alice had avoided him as much as possible.
She did not know whether she actually disliked Mr. Rellen, or if she was working on it for Dad’s sake, or if this was her personal contribution to strife: her way to make her mother pay.
Whatever he was, he was not a parent. Alice was ready to talk to her mother. She was not ready to talk to the future second husband of that mother.
It startled Alice to be so sure of that. It was the first thing all this long hard day that she was sure of: She was not going to confide in Rick Rellen.
“Oh, I know the woman you mean,” chimed in a third girl. “She used to be in charge at Flemming Dorm. You’re right, Bethany, she never does anything to help you. She says you have to learn to take things in stride.”
The girls made noises of disgust and headed for a big, heavy-duty, take-the-class-with-you-to-Disney-World Econo-line van. Swivel seats, privacy glass, the works. The girls piled in. Bethany was the driver.
Alice took off her glasses, hoping she looked eighteen and not twelve. “Hey, listen, I hate to bother you,” she said, “but can you give me a lift back to the campus? I think my boyfriend has abandoned me here.”
It was a sisterhood moment. They had things to do, and they did not want to be bothered, but still, they could not drive away from a woman whose boyfriend had proved unreliable. “Well, okay,” said Bethany sullenly.
Alice climbed in, said “Thank you,” and sat in back, where she would not bother them. The shock of being pursued had left every joint weak, every muscle trembling. The backseat would be a very short vacation from running.
The State University campus was also on 145, maybe ten miles from Mom’s, maybe half that from Dad’s or Westtown Mall. So Alice had covered a lot of territory in order to get nowhere.
Ten miles took enough time, however, to ask herself what she was doing, and why.
The van moved slowly out into the traffic.
The Volvo idled beside parallel-parked cars. Rick Rellen’s left elbow stuck out the driver’s window. Cradled in his hand was a car phone.
Chapter 5
S TRANGELY ISOLATED IN THE back of somebody else’s van and the back of somebody else’s conversation, Alice found herself able to reach the back of her own mind. The desire to talk to her mother had disappeared. The need to weep for her father had left her chest.
She began to reconstruct the day.
She’d been home by herself. Dad called. He urgently requested her to leave the house with the disk TWIN and to meet him out of town. He gave her the extraordinary order to drive his most precious possession—a car she could not drive. So Dad desperately wanted those disks. Did he just want them—or did he want them out of the house?
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