When her dad said he couldn't afford college, his eyes looked stricken and she could hardly stand the discomfort of him disappointing himself so badly.
"Well I get good grades, so if I want to go to school I can try for a scholarship. I want to go to business school," Cheryl said, and the words slipped out of her so fast she hadn't even realized she'd been thinking about it.
"Business school, huh? Wow. That's my girl. Hand me a shop towel, would ya?" She handed him a screwdriver.
Night fell and Cheryl couldn't sleep. She lay in bed thinking, I never did well in school back in Ogden. I had so many friends, and I made junior poms, and everything was so great, I didn't try very hard on my grades, but now look at me. I have no friends and I'm invisible at school, and I am starting to make my own way. Maybe, just maybe, I can have a store someday. Could I have done this if I stayed in Ogden? She shook her head and sighed, still not falling asleep. So she dragged herself out of bed and went to the bathroom. She washed her hands, then stood at her window and took a look outside.
Blaine stood at the edge of his front yard wearing wader boots, taking his family's irrigation turn. He walked along the ditch using a pitch fork to lift bunches of grass and debris from the little tunnels and make the water flow.
He looked solitarily engaged but then he glanced up at her house. She went to the window and pressed herself against it. He saw her!
Heart pounding, she stood there not knowing what to do. If she went down there, would he run away? Or would he talk to her. And if he talked to her, would he reveal more of himself? Or would he waste her time with friendly small talk? Could she trust him?
She started down the stairs in her nightgown and it got a little twisted between her feet. She looked down and thought, I better get dressed.
Jeans, sweatshirt, and rubber flip-flops on, she slowly eased the front door shut and hopped down the new concrete steps. Blaine's head jerked when he saw her coming, but then he relaxed and let her approach.
Blaine was a Mormon. The worst kind of Mormon, the kind that wore starched white shirts and quoted scripture instead of thinking. His mother had never said a friendly word to any of the Brownes. But Cheryl had to see him.
"What are you doing out here?" Blaine asked her, smiling briefly.
"Nothin'. Couldn't sleep." And I'm so glad, Cheryl thought. She watched him pick up a spade and open a dirt channel.
"Well I get good grades, so if I want to go to school I can try for a scholarship. I want to go to business school," Cheryl said, and the words slipped out of her so fast she hadn't even realized she'd been thinking about it.
"Business school, huh? Wow. That's my girl. Hand me a shop towel, would ya?" She handed him a screwdriver.
Night fell and Cheryl couldn't sleep. She lay in bed thinking, I never did well in school back in Ogden. I had so many friends, and I made junior poms, and everything was so great, I didn't try very hard on my grades, but now look at me. I have no friends and I'm invisible at school, and I am starting to make my own way. Maybe, just maybe, I can have a store someday. Could I have done this if I stayed in Ogden? She shook her head and sighed, still not falling asleep. So she dragged herself out of bed and went to the bathroom. She washed her hands, then stood at her window and took a look outside.
Blaine stood at the edge of his front yard wearing wader boots, taking his family's irrigation turn. He walked along the ditch using a pitch fork to lift bunches of grass and debris from the little tunnels and make the water flow.
He looked solitarily engaged but then he glanced up at her house. She went to the window and pressed herself against it. He saw her!
Heart pounding, she stood there not knowing what to do. If she went down there, would he run away? Or would he talk to her. And if he talked to her, would he reveal more of himself? Or would he waste her time with friendly small talk? Could she trust him?
She started down the stairs in her nightgown and it got a little twisted between her feet. She looked down and thought, I better get dressed.
Jeans, sweatshirt, and rubber flip-flops on, she slowly eased the front door shut and hopped down the new concrete steps. Blaine's head jerked when he saw her coming, but then he relaxed and let her approach.
Blaine was a Mormon. The worst kind of Mormon, the kind that wore starched white shirts and quoted scripture instead of thinking. His mother had never said a friendly word to any of the Brownes. But Cheryl had to see him.
"What are you doing out here?" Blaine asked her, smiling briefly.
"Nothin'. Couldn't sleep." And I'm so glad, Cheryl thought. She watched him pick up a spade and open a dirt channel.
