Valentine in June, Chapter One

I glimpsed Nichola the minute I stumbled off the school bus. She was some distance into the grounds, and was wearing her stockings rolled down today, leaving a strip of bare thigh between them and the pleats of her skirt.

"Nichola! Hi, Nichola!" I panted, hurrying after her.

She didn't slow her brisk stride, but merely tolerated me once I'd drawn level. I struggled to talk while keeping pace, breathless.

"Firstly, just wanted to wish you good luck in your dance recital today," I began. How I yearned to tell her I'd dreamed about a ballet school just last night, because of her! That however might have been a bit too romantic to start on.

Nichola popped her pink bubble-gum, and made no other response.

"Um," I pressed on anxiously, stumbling after her into the cloakroom, "but what I really wanted to ask you, Nichola, was..."

She'd reached her peg. I fumbled tentatively for her, no doubt all thumbs.

"I can take my coat off by myself, thanks," Nichola informed me coldly, doing so and hanging up the light little summer jacket. Then she pushed by me and I almost went weak from her nearness.

But now the girl was pulling ahead again. This was worse than netball! Once again I hastened after her, into our classroom, and caught up when she stopped by her desk. Her slightly coarse blonde hair was disarrayed from being outside, and I thought she looked sweeter that way than if she'd given it a good brushing.

"I was just saying, Nichola," I went on, still breathy, "that if you ever felt like - "

Suddenly she rounded on me.

"Look, why are you getting on my knickers?" she demanded. "I don't go out with boys my age."

I seemed to shrivel and shrink inside. Colour rushed to my cheeks. To think I'd been so excited about talking to her!

First lesson was English, and it turned out to be you-know-who's day for public performance because she was called on to read her poem aloud. We fidgety boys were all watching as she walked to the front of the classroom.

Once there, Nichola posed as if it was the last place on Earth she wanted to be, and commenced:

"Will you come to watch my dance? I think I will take a chance. You can come and watch me too, in the hall that's old not new. It will be at ten to one, so come along for saucy fun."

She rattled it off, in a rapid chanting rhythm like the world's most reluctant cheerleader. Then she swished back to her desk, milk-bottle legs in stockings of stretchy sheer blue flashing away, and those tantalizing bands of fleshy pink all a-quiver above.

My friends and I let out our breath in hushed thankful sighs, feeling as if we'd been the ones called up!

"Turning your school calendar back three pages tonight?" whispered the boy beside me.

"Oh, um, was Nichola the girl for March?" I stammered back, blushing guiltily.

For in truth I'd never turned my school calendar over since then, and that night in my bedroom it was all I could do to sit at my desk in front of it and stare. Ten minutes of the pink tutu depicted had shattered my lunchtime calm, and it was the tiniest comfort that the calendar project had left me with a little piece of Nichola to keep for my very own. In fact, I guessed every boy at school was as thankful as me that her parents had given permission for her to take part.

In the picture Nichola was kneeling prettily, the soles of her bare feet tempting the viewer in vain. Her back had been to the photographer, and just the smooth supple curve that ran uninterrupted from hips to shoulders weakened me to a swoon. From over her shoulder Nichola glanced back, flashing her big blue eyes, while as a comical finishing touch she was using the thumb and forefinger of one hand to pinch her nose shut.

Somehow that part was most subject to my endless restless studies. I was forever poring over it, pondering whether Nichola was cheesily admitting she smelled, or implying the observer did.

There was surely something in those seemingly innocent eyes that hinted nevertheless at the latter.

Something that teased, and wouldn't tell...

My little sister strolled past my open door. "Didn't realise it was March," said she.

That reminded me of the real reason I was here in my room! Dragging my own eyes from the calendar at last, I reverted to my computer screen. It was a June evening and still hot, so I'd already put my pyjamas on. To be so dressed made me blush before Nichola, even when that only meant her calendar pic and her open messenger profile. However, embarrassed or not, I was resolved to go for it. Since she wouldn't talk to me, it felt like the only thing to do. I pulled the computer keyboard near and threw my clumsy fingers at the task.

Whew!

Hitting "send" I threw myself back in the chair. When you were frightened as I'd just been, the only thing to do was close your eyes and try to get through it quickly!

Knowing Nichola would need time to read and respond, and might not even be online right now, I stood up quietly and slipped out of my room. A little fresh air would be nice after a day like this one had been. I didn't bother getting dressed again, even though it was still light outside. Our hedges were tall, so there'd be no-one to see a lone boy in his PJs, and I did need to simmer down after banging out that email.

It would make any boy hot and bothered, I thought to myself as I stepped out into the cool dusk. Trying to keep up with the likes of Nichola.

I drew a deep sigh...

There was a girl tap-dancing on our patio.

TO BE CONTINUED