Chapter 3

I had fewer classes with Fran the next day owing to different electives and Phys Ed. But I saw her at the end of the lunch break and brought my salad over. "How goes?" I asked - politely overlooking her food.

"So-so," she said. "I'm a little hung up on the physics report. I thought I understood everything yesterday, but I got stuck writing the discussion and conclusion."

"You should have called me," I replied. "Or have come over. I spent half the afternoon teaching Jake that stuff."

"I don't have your phone number," she said, though her body language also clearly showed she wouldn't have dared call even if she did have it.

"No, but you know where I live. And as to my number, here it is," I said and wrote both our landline and my mobile number on a scrap of paper. "Can I have yours?"

"I don't have my own mobile phone and we have no landline," she said miserably.

"But what if you mother wants to get hold of you?" I blurted.

"She doesn't," Fran replied, and tears started to form in her eyes.

Ouch. She really had it tough. I made a mental note-to-self that a mobile phone would be an excellent gift, provided I ever got close enough to her to make her accept it. We finished lunch in silence.

"Anyway, let's have a look at your report and see what we can do," I said when we had eaten.

She got it out - it was handwritten in her neat and very legible hand. She had left space where she knew things were missing. I noted that. "I hoped you were going to help me," she blurted out.

"Why of course, but why didn't you find me earlier?" I asked - again without thinking.

"I, uh, I..." she stammered which I knew very well by now to mean something like 'I didn't want to impose on a Hill Boy' or some similar crap.

My eyes sought hers and locked in when she finally looked up. "We are friends, right? Friends help each other."

The megawatt smile came back and in 10 minutes her report was finished, just in time for us to rush off to physics.

Next day was Friday - the school district mercifully starts the school year on Wednesdays to give students and teachers a gentler start, and again I had most classes with Fran. I had one or two new subjects and the pattern of introductions from the previous days repeated itself. During the day there were the usual date-arrangements which seem to take up so many of high school kids' conscious hours.

There were obviously some well-established 'steady couples' in the class and additionally groups of friends who occasionally dated each other. The groups were clearly demarked along social borders - the 'Hill kids' in one, the 'Track kids' in another and a fairly large group of middle-class kids making up the last. I choose to simply observe, and that was rather enlightening.

On several occasions I noted Jake approaching Denise - a very pretty petite middle-class African American girl. But every time it looked like he was just about to say something to her, other kids would walk up and it never happened. In the end I saw him cornered by Lorraine, and he ended up inviting her out, but it sounded very reluctant to my ears.

I meant to invite Fran out, but aware of her sensitivity I had decided to wait until school was over. Fate intervened in that I got cornered by the biology teacher - who seemed to know all about my dad's work - at the end of class, and Fran slipped out before I could ask her. Not having a phone number or knowing where she lived, I couldn't do anything.

The weekend was still interesting. On Saturday Dad threw a party for his staff. True to family tradition, he, that is to say, we, cooked everything ourselves and Layla Patterson, his secretary, came over to help. She was a very good looking African American woman, somewhat younger than my dad, and there was something about her that made me think I should know her, but I couldn't place it. Dad solved the riddle while we were preparing the dinner. "George, I believe you are in some of the same classes as Layla's daughter."

The penny dropped. "So you are Denise's mother!" I exclaimed. Without thinking I continued "She sure doesn't get her beauty from strangers."

I know it is often claimed that African Americans can't blush, but Layla's nougat complexion got distinctly redder. "You and your Dad are chips off the same block, aren't you?" she laughed out loud. "But yes, I am Denise's mother and it has been mentioned once or twice that we look very much alike while Denise's little brother Bobby is the spitting image of their late Dad."

"I'll remind you of this next time you say I am 'too smooth' George," Dad chuckled, but he didn't seem annoyed with me.

During the next week I spent as much time with Fran as she would let me. I got nowhere with inviting her out, though. She flatly refused. I had the feeling she was mainly worried I would be embarrassed by her, and I sensed that she dreaded the idea of me seeing her home and meeting her mother.

But I had two minor breakthroughs. On Monday the physics teacher returned our assignments and after the class Fran and Jake were equally, and simultaneously, effusive in their praise of my help. Denise overheard this and when it was time for doing labs on Wednesday again, she asked me point blank if I would extend my tutoring services to her also.

"Sure," I agreed. "You are more than welcome. But I think it would be most effective if I could help you all in one go. If Jake can drive you and Fran up to my place after school then we can work on it together."

Jake had been hovering in the background. "I'd love to!" he exclaimed with so much sincerity that Denise looked startled. Jake turned to Fran with an inquiring look.

"Um, I, I'm not sure..." she started, but Denise interrupted her.

"Sure you'll come. You can't leave me alone with those two, can you?"

Fran smiled. I saw it reflected in Denise's and Jake's faces. When Fran smiles, no-one is unaffected.

The three of them were waiting for me when I made it home on my bike. Being an extra hot day, I was really sweaty. Jake teased me for taking a long time, but in reality they hadn't been there all that long. Still, it was possibly good that Fran (and Denise) got to see 'The Cedars' for the first time without me being there, but the inevitable tour of the inside of the house nevertheless had both of them gaping and Fran looking uncomfortable. We studied in the kitchen, snacking on healthy stuff including a new kind of cookie my dad was trying out on patients. In addition to tasting good, and having next to no calories, they also contained a compound that biochemically triggers the feeling of fullness in many people.