Song of a Sophomore

CHAPTER 24 - One More Chance

"What are you looking at, stunt woman?" Leo caught me staring at Zach again.

I turned my eyes back to the screen. Our public speaking class gathered around a television set resting on a metal cart in a gloomy corner of the Meadow Wood library. We were there to witness the spectacle unfolding on live TV from a Los Angeles courtroom, where a jury would deliver the verdict in the O. J. Simpson murder trial. It was the final act in a media melodrama where the trial lawyers and witnesses became colorful characters as dramatic as any of the soap opera stars on daytime television.

Leo sat at a table behind me with Zach at his side, as usual. They were as inseparable as  Batman and Robin, Ren and Stimpy, or Beavis and Butthead. It was impossible to take my eyes off them.

"I think she's checking you out, Dreamboat." Leo patted Zach on the back.

"I'm sure you're so loud, she can't hear the TV," Zach said.

"Yeah," I lied. "They're about to read the verdict."

I turned my attention back to the news commentary as the reporters stalled for time. I fought off the urge to look at the boys over my shoulder again, and had pretty much conquered it, when a sharp poke at the nape of my neck startled me.

"Ouch!" I spun around.

Leo's shoulders shook with silent laughter. I looked at his hands. Nothing. On the floor was a thin rubber band. Leo caught my gaze and jumped out of his seat to beat me to it. Quickly, I took hold of one of my crutches and pinned his hand to the floor, like I was squashing a bug, although I never squashed bugs.

"Ouch!' He winced from his awkward position, bent at the waist and leaning out the chair with his right hand plastered to the floor.

I released him. "Hurts doesn't it?"

I was instantly aware of Zach's eyes on me and a delightful smirk on his face. I tried to flash a coy smile, but lost myself in his eyes which reminded me of the ocean in winter—Atlantic blue and calm, with a forceful current just under the surface. As he stared back, I became totally self-conscious. The race of my pulse, the quickness of my breathing, and the naïve hope pulling at my heartstrings left me totally vulnerable.

"You're staring again." Leo rolled his eyes. "She's staring at us."

Quickly, I turned away and planted my eyes on the television.

Zach knows. It's obvious I'm infatuated with him. He knows and he does nothing. I'm such a moron! He'll never notice me. Not ever.

As if in response to my thoughts, Zach answered me in one simple gesture, a burning touch at the base of my neck, under my ponytail. "You've got a mark from that rubber band. I think it's only fair you get to take a shot at Leo."

"I think taking a crutch to the hand was justice enough." Leo rubbed his palm and turned to me. "In a couple weeks, you won't have your crutches to protect you."

Although it was a joke, his words struck a chord of truth. My life was completely altered since the accident: attention, compassion and sympathy from just about everyone. The entire cheerleading squad doted on me, even Bernie and Katelyn. No more teasing and mean looks. They let me in on the conversation. Students I didn't even know stopped me in the hallway to see how I was feeling. It was surreal.

"Here it comes," Mrs. Tuttle said, her voice full of anticipation.

The jurors were seconds from announcing their verdict to the world from the confines of a Los Angeles courtroom. I pondered the uncertainty of the defendant's fate. The retired NFL player faced life behind bars for double murder or complete freedom, two extremes. His expression gave only the slightest hint of anxiety as the verdict was read. Then relief, as the matter of guilt or innocence was settled in one sentence. ""We the jury find the defendant Orenthal James Simpson not guilty..."