Duncan - The Twisted Window

For my son-in-law Kenneth David Mahrer

FOR OVER TEN MINUTES now, Tracy Lloyd had been watching the boy with the curly hair watching her.

At first she had told herself that she was imagining it. He was not really looking at her, he was looking past her, gazing over her shoulder at someone seated at the table behind her. Or perhaps he was looking at Gina. That would not have been surprising. When Gina went braless under one of her collection of tight-fitting mesh tops, male eyes did usually turn in her direction.

But Gina was sitting with her back to the boy. Noteworthy as she might be when viewed straight on, there was nothing so remarkable about Ginas back that a stranger would want to spend his entire lunch period inspecting her shoulder blades.

No, it wasnt Gina who had attracted his attention.

Tracy lowered her eyes to her plate as though concentrating on her half eaten sandwich.

The new guy, she said, you know, the one we were talking about earlier? The one who was standing by the water fountain when we were getting our books this morning. Hes sitting two tables over, and he keeps staring at us.

Mr. Gorgeous? Gina enjoyed pegging people with private nicknames. Dont you wish he really were. Dont I wish it! He looks like that guy who had a face that launched a thousand ships.

That wasnt a guy, said Tracy. It was Helen of Troy. And I mean it. He really does seem to be looking us over.

And here I sit, facing the wrong way. Mr. Gorgeous has his eyes glued to this table, and Im missing this incredible chance to chalk up Brownie points. Life can be so cruel! Gina paused, considered a moment, and then said, Im going to drop my fork, okay? Then Im going to bend down and get it and straighten up slowly. Very slowly. And then Ill raise my eyesalso very slowlyand let our gazes meet. Sparks will fly, I guarantee it. Is he still looking over here?

Yes, Tracy told her. In fact, now hes getting up from his seat. Hes picking up his plate.

The boy was moving with obvious deliberation. There was no doubt at all about what he was planning to do.

Youre not going to believe this, Tracy said quietly to Gina, but your Mr. Gorgeous is on his way over to sit with us.

That was the one, Brad told himself. That was the girl. She looked just as right to him now as she had that morning. She had the look he was afterattractive, but not a bit flashya look that made him feel comfortable and at ease. She was dressed in a tailored blouse with a high collar, and her dark hair was pulled back from her face in a clean and simple style that contrasted sharply with the wild blond mane of the girl she was sitting with.

He had spotted her yesterday afternoon, just after the last bell had rung, but at that time the main thrust of his attention had been directed toward somebody else. The girl he had been considering then had been on the plump side, and the excess weight had made it hard to determine her age. As he had been preparing to go over and strike up a conversation, however, a boy had materialized out of nowhere, thrown an arm around the girls shoulders, and whisked her away.

That, of course, had been the end of that. The girl was out of the running. He needed a loner, not somebody equipped with a boyfriend.

A slender dark-haired girl had been standing three lockers down from the plump one, and with the loss of the one, Brads eyes had been drawn to the other. He had been struck by an immediate feeling of recognition, as though he already knew her from somewhere else. Although she looked nothing like the girl he had previously been considering, she might be equally good for the purpose he had in mind. She was tall and pretty, with an air of subtle aloofness that made her appear more mature than the average high school student. If the quality of her voice was in keeping with her appearance, she might easily be able to pass herself off as old enough to have her own apartment.

The girl had finished stuffing her books into her locker, shoved the door shut, and clicked the padlock into place. Then she had turned and made her way down the crowded hallway. At one point, a boy in a plaid shirt and cowboy boots had attempted to intercept her, but she had put him off with a polite nod and impersonal smile. At the end of the hallway she had exited the building, still alone and apparently intending to continue that way.

That had been the last that Brad had seen of her yesterday, but he had thought about her a lot and had even awakened once in the night with a picture in his mind of the girl and Mindy together. Drugged with sleep, he had not been sure if he was experiencing a dream or a vision, but he had been pleased to see that the girls hand had been resting protectively on Mindys shoulder.

This morning he had gotten to school early and had entered the building as soon as the janitor had unlocked the doors. Once inside, he had stationed himself by the watercooler across from the girls locker. Soon after the first bell rang, a busty girl with hair too blond to be natural had rushed up to the locker and started twirling the combination lock. Several minutes later the girl for whom he had been waiting had joined her there, and the two of them stood together, chatting casually, as they hauled books and gym clothes out of the locker and sorted through them.

The blonde was a nonstop talker. Her mouth was in constant motion, and she kept tossing her head, to cause the bleached hair to swirl around her shoulders, and glancing about her to see if she was being noticed.

At one point her eyes had zeroed in on Brad, and she had thrown him a cute, come-on smile.

He had stepped away from the fountain, hurriedly averting his eyes.

Sorry, blondie, he had told her silently. I bet youre one hot little number, but you are definitely not what Im shopping for.

When the second bell rang he had gone to the library and waited out the morning there, and then at noon he went to the cafeteria and bought himself lunch. It had been a wasted half hour, for the girl had not put in an appearance. In order to avoid having to socialize with the students seated around him, Brad read while he ate. He had no interest in striking up a conversation with anyone other than the girl, and he knew that the fewer people he talked to, the safer he would be.

When the cafeteria began to empty out, Brad scraped what was left on his plate into the garbage bin, placed his tray on the pile by the door to the kitchen, and drifted back out into the hall. He killed some time washing and rewashing his hands in the boys room, and then, when the bell rang to signal the start of B lunch, he reentered the cafeteria as part of a new stream of hungry students. He went through the line again and paid for the second tray of food, hoping that the woman at the cash register would not recognize him. To his relief, she showed no sign of it, plucking the money from his hand and dropping it into the drawer of the register without glancing at his face.

He chose a table by the wall where he could sit and have a full view of the room. The problem was that students were entering through two different doors, and it was difficult to keep watch on both simultaneously. He loaded his fork with spaghetti and took a token bite, trying to fake an appetite. It would be just his luck, he thought, for the girl to be scheduled for C lunch, which would mean that he would have to eat yet another time. Worse still, since Winfield High School had an open campus, it was possible that she might have gone off to eat at some fast-food restaurant, in which case she would never show up at the cafeteria.