At that moment, we turned a corner and the school came in sight. Charlie forgot about girls and started to laugh. “That’s it?” he said. “It’s so small!”

Wallace High School is next door to Wallace Elementary School. Both schools are gray one-story buildings made with concrete blocks and flat roofs about twenty-five years ago. I guess they were state of the art at the time. Now they’re kind of depressing. But then, what school isn’t depressing?

Apparently, the school Charlie went to before was a sprawling two-story building with over 2,400 students. Our high school is lucky to hit 400. About half of them come by bus from farms and villages in the area. 

When Charlie was through laughing, we headed for the front doors and he followed me down to room ten. That’s the room for seniors who are academically inclined. The other two senior rooms are for those who plan on going into a trade and those who are taking the commercial program.

Charlie had told me he wanted to be a doctor like his dad, so it was easy to see why he was in the academic class. Why I was there is a different story. My dad made me. I wanted to take the easier course because, well, it’s easier. Not to mention that my grades have never been anything to brag about. But Dad said every other one of his kids had gone to a good college and he’d be hanged if I wasn’t going for at least a year, especially since I have no idea what else I want to do. So, there I was, but I’d told Dad that if I fail, it will be his fault.

Anyway, we went into the room and found desks about half-way up. Charlie’s idea—I prefer the very back. We talked with others until the bell rang and Mr. Jackman came in. Everyone immediately sat down. 

I had already told Charlie about Mr. Jackman. He’s stout, about fifty, nearly bald, with small beady eyes. He smiles occasionally, but not much. His kids—two boys—are both grown and doing well. His wife is a friend of my mom’s and one of the prettiest and nicest people I know. But Mr. Jackman is neither pretty nor nice. Of all the teachers I’ve had, he is the one I really listen to. His is the one class I never daydream or talk in. Not that I like history—I don’t. But no one fools around in Mr. Jackman’s classes. Not that no one ever has. But if you’ve done it once, you don’t do it again. 

So now, everyone quietly sat down. We’ve never had him for home room before, but it looked as though we were stuck.

He started calling the roll, and it was then I realized that two of us were absent. Not entirely absent, because there were notebooks on two desks near the front. But the desks had no one sitting in them, and he didn’t call out their names; he simply made a mark in his book.

He’d finished the roll and was starting to give us our timetables when the door opened and two girls came in carrying books. They took the books to his desk and he nodded as they left them there and went to their seats.

Charlie was behind me. He poked me in the back and whispered urgently, “Who is that?”

“Which one?” I countered, knowing that nobody in his right mind would care who Joyce was.

“The blonde, of course.”

“Oh, her. I thought you meant Joyce. Let’s see now. The blonde, eh?” 

He poked me again.

“Oh, yeah, I remember. Her name is Nicole.”

Mr. Jackman frowned at me, and I tried to pay attention to what he was saying. 

Charlie waited a few minutes and then poked me again. 

I leaned back as far as I dared.

“Her name is Nicole?” he whispered.

“Yeah. Nicole Elizabeth Grant.”

I sat up and began taking down something Mr. Jackman was saying. 

Charlie poked me again, but I ignored him. I looked at Nicole. She was wearing a green skirt with a matching  sweater and her long golden-blonde hair shone against the green like a field of wheat against a forest of trees. As always, she was smiling as she looked at Mr. Jackman. I couldn’t see her eyes, but I knew they would be smiling, too. They always are. In my opinion, Nicole is not only the prettiest girl in the school, but the nicest too.

And it seemed to me from the past three days of observation that Charlie was going to be number one among the male population—at least as far as the girls were concerned.

But there was just one small thing. Nicole isn’t that interested in guys. Oh, she dates now and then, but I know for a fact that she’s refused to go out with Phil and most of the other senior guys. 

I couldn’t help wondering if she would refuse to go out with Charlie. I had a feeling that if she did, he wouldn’t shrug his shoulders and find someone else the way Phil had. No, the more I thought about it, the more I decided that Charlie’s presence in town was definitely going to add some interest to my life. 

Charlie finally quit trying to get my attention, so it wasn’t until Mr. Jackman had finished his instructions and we were looking at our timetables that he got a chance to talk to me.

He kept his voice low. “Her name is Nicole?”

“That’s right.”

“Do people call her Nicky?”

“No.”

“Nicole Grant?”

I nodded.

“How come you didn’t tell me about her?”

“Forgot, I guess.”

“You forgot her?”

I shrugged. “Ask my mother. She’ll tell you my memory stinks. Are you taking physics?”

“Yeah. But how come I haven’t seen her before? Why wasn’t she at the dance?”

“I’ll tell you later. Oh, rats, I hate having chemistry right before lunch!”

Charlie gave me a dirty look, but he paid some attention to his timetable and then started talking to Marta and Sheila and a couple of other girls.

After a few minutes a bell rang and it was time for the first class. Since most of us were taking history, we just stayed put and Mr. Jackman gave us a preview of our history course and told us what else we’d need for it. The bell rang again and we went on to more twenty-minute classes—the teachers just saying their names and handing out books and telling us in general what we’d be doing and what we’d need. Before long, it was time to leave. School would really start the next day.

Charlie and I were barely out of the building before he was bombarding me with questions about Nicole. 

“All right, who is she and why haven’t I seen her before today?”

“I told you—Nicole Grant.”

“Keep going.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Why haven’t I seen her?”

“Because she’s kind of different.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t think she’s ever been to a dance—town or school. I’ve only seen her at a couple of movies—one was a Walt Disney matinee and the other was a movie her dad’s church sponsored.

“Church?”

“Yeah. Her father’s the minister at a church in the new area northeast from where we live. They moved here about 
three years ago.”

“So she goes to church, does she?”

“Yeah. Her whole family does. And, like I said, I’ve never seen her at a dance, and she doesn’t go to many movies. And she doesn’t ride around in cars much, either. There are a couple of guys she dates now and then, but I think they go to the same church. So, if you’re heading in that direction, you’d better hold on. She just isn’t your type.”

“Every pretty girl is my type, and she’s the prettiest one I’ve seen here yet. I bet she’s smart, too.”

“Yeah. She and Greg Johnson are always at the top of the class.”

“Well, old Charlie Thornton will be right up there with  them this year.”

I didn’t comment. If I passed I wasn’t unhappy. At least until I got my report card home. Mom and Dad both have the idea I should be turning those Cs and Ds into As and Bs. But they don’t complain as much now as they used to. I think they’ve finally decided that maybe I’m not the same as my brothers and sisters. I don’t know why it took them so long. I’ve been getting those Cs and Ds since back in elementary school.

Anyway, we got home and Charlie said we’d go downtown after lunch and pick up our pens and such. That was fine with me, though to tell the truth I’d always let Mom take care of it in the past. I was apt to forget half the things I needed and then blow the rest of the money on pool.

But Mom said it was okay for me to go with Charlie. I guess she figured he’d see that I got the right stuff.

He did. He’d made notes of what each teacher had said, and then he’d made a neat list of everything he needed. We stopped first at the bank so I could take some money out of my account and pay him back the forty he’d given me Friday night. After that, we went to the drugstore and whatever he got, I got, too. We managed fine. 

We met a group of about five girls including Sheila and Ann, and all of us went to Harry’s Restaurant and killed about an hour goofing around before Harry kicked us out. He’s always kicking us out, so it was no big deal. We dropped off a couple of girls, and then went home.

Mom was really pleased to see how well I’d managed. She said she sure was glad Charlie had moved here.

After dinner, Phil called. “A bunch of us are going down to the school to play football. You want to come?”

“I looked for you after school, but you were gone.”

“Lisa needed help getting some stuff ready for the cheerleaders. They’re holding tryouts next week.” 

“Oh. Where is she now? Isn’t she coming to play football?”

“Don’t act dumb. She had some things to do at home. She said it wouldn’t hurt for me to start getting ready for football season. So—are you coming or not?” 

“Yeah, I guess. I’ll see if Charlie wants to come, too.”

“Yeah? You think he’d take a chance on messing up that pretty face?” 

“Yeah, right, Phil.” 

“The guy looks—well, like a creep. That smile—it’s like he pastes it on in the morning and keeps it there all day. He reminds me of a wooden mannequin from a store window.  It’s a wonder he can move.”

“He played baseball okay, didn’t he?”

“Give me a break, Glen. Like that was a serious game! Or didn’t you realize we had girls playing who didn’t know a double play from a bunt?” 

“I still think I should ask him to come. After all, he’s new here and just getting to know people.”

Phil snorted. “Getting to know people? Don’t you mean getting to know girls? And he seemed to be doing okay from what I saw.” 

“Yeah, well, this would give him a chance to know some guys, too.” 

“So, bring him along if you have to. I don’t care. Just make sure he knows it’s football we’re playing, not hopscotch.”

Charlie was eager to go, so we drove to the school parking lot and walked over to the football field. He examined it closely and said he was surprised at how good it was. 

About ten minutes after we arrived, Phil and the others appeared. Soon there were enough guys for a good work-out. Charlie and I and Brett were on one team; Phil and Mac on the other. As usual, Phil was quarterback for his team. 

About fifteen minutes in, we were getting bombed, so  Charlie offered to take over as quarterback for our side. 

Man, was he hot! I forget the final score, but it was pretty lopsided in our favor. 

Phil didn’t say much, but the rest of the guys were all excited over Charlie’s playing. They figured that with him calling the plays the school team would be unbeatable this year. 

Charlie took it pretty well. He just said we’d have to see what the coach thought about his playing first, and maybe somebody else would be better.

I went over to Phil, who was standing a little apart from the crowd around Charlie. “Looks like maybe he does know how to play a little,” I said casually.

Phil took the time to glare at me before he picked up his football and walked toward his car. 

Charlie and I dropped in at The Peabody Diner later, but there wasn’t much happening, so we drove around town and I pointed out where the Grants live. Charlie parked across the street and we read the sign on the church next door: Wallace Community Evangelical Church. It was a fairly small building, but new and not bad looking. The Grants’ house was new, too—a bungalow similar to mine. 

Charlie wanted to know more about the Grant family, so I told him there was a mother, a father, a brother—Paul—in his second year of high school, and two younger sisters in elementary school. You could see Charlie’s brain working, figuring all the angles. I felt sure he was enjoying it, too. He was like a general planning his campaign strategy. 

So far, every girl he’d met had fallen all over herself being nice to Charlie. That included Lisa, though she hadn’t been as obvious as some of the others. Nicole hadn’t even spoken to Charlie this morning, except to say, “Hi,” after he said it first. She showed no interest in him at all. So now Charlie was ready to do battle. Like he’d said, every pretty girl was his type, and he wanted Nicole to know it.

The campaign began at school the next day. We were barely inside the building when we saw Nicole and Joyce at their lockers just outside our homeroom. Charlie, a perfect gentleman, offered to carry Nicole’s books.

She gave him a little smile, then said, “Thanks, but I can manage.”

“Your name is Nicole, isn’t it? I like that. Did you know it means ‘victorious one’?”

She smiled but turned to Joyce. “Come on, or we’ll be late for homeroom.”

I remembered that our teacher was Mr. Jackman. “Yeah, come on, Charlie. We don’t want to be late.”

Charlie was staring at Nicole’s back, but when I spoke he quickly organized his books and shut his locker. 

Morning classes weren’t bad. I guess school is usually fun for a couple of days. After that it’s downhill all the way.

Nicole and Joyce were with a group of other girls during lunch, so Charlie didn’t get a chance to talk to Nicole. He was stuck with trying to extricate himself from Sheila, Ann, Marta, and several other girls who all wanted to sit with him. Phil was with Lisa. He even carried her tray over to the table and went back to get his own. Man, but she had him hooked. 

I sat with Mac and Brett and we watched Charlie. He was pretty smooth. He talked to all of the girls by turns, not singling out any of them, but apparently keeping them all interested. It made me tired just to watch. I was glad when it was time for phys ed. 

When the last bell rang, we were stuck in shop, so Charlie had to hurry to get to Nicole’s locker before she left. 

I tried to hide my grin as I followed along behind. Life certainly was getting more interesting.

“Hey, Nicole,” Charlie called, “wait up!”

She was just shutting her locker. When he called, she paused and looked back. She shifted her books from one arm to the other and waited.

“Just wanted to ask if you’d like a ride home. I’ve got my car here today. You look like you’ve got a lot of books.”

She laughed. “Oh, not too many. Thanks for the offer, but no thanks.” 

She walked off with Joyce.

Charlie stood watching them for a moment. Then he turned to me. “Well, come on. What are you waiting for?”

We drove home without talking. I knew Charlie’s mind was in a whirl. Nicole had to be the only girl in the school who would turn down a ride in his car.

 Charlie had no more luck the next day. He asked Nicole to go for a Coke after school, and she said she had to go straight home. When he offered to drive her home, she politely said, “No, thank you.”

 The following day he got sidetracked with tryouts for the football team. As I’d expected, after the coach saw him throw and run, he was a shoo-in for quarterback. 

Phil was pretty upset. Not that it was obvious, but Phil and I have been pals for quite a while, so I know the signs. He’d assumed, before Charlie came, that he was the logical choice for quarterback, but he was no match for Charlie.

Charlie had dragged me out to the tryouts with him. I did my best, but when the coach asked me if I’d like to be the team manager, I knew what that meant—looking after uniforms, finding lost gear, fetching water or whatever. 

I said, “No, thanks, Mr. Wilton. I didn’t really want to be on the team, anyway.” 

I guess it sounded like sour grapes, but it was actually the truth. I didn’t want to be on the team. Oh, I don’t mind doing some punting and catching for an hour or two, or even having a scrimmage now and then, but I don’t need those practices at seven in the morning or after school. Nor do I need to try to remember patterns and numbers and positions and all that stuff. Not to mention getting the broken arms and the sprained ankles and assorted other injuries that I’ve noticed are an all-too-frequent part of the game. I’d tried out because Charlie wanted me to, but I was whistling when I went home to see if Mom had baked any cookies that day. Friday is her day for baking.

That night, Charlie was pretty high, what with being named quarterback and his dad’s having given him an extra fifty bucks for making him proud or something. I’d like to see my dad just hand me fifty bucks. 

Oh, well, some of us have it made, and some of us have to struggle on. 

We blew most of the money at the diner. Charlie found some girls and I guess we made a lot of noise. Peggy—a blonde with big blues eyes and a well-developed figure—said her mom wouldn’t mind if we went to her house, and by the time the word passed around, about twelve of us ended up going there. Peggy’s mom didn’t seem too concerned—she just set out lemonade and chips and left the room. 

Somebody put some music on and there was a ready-made dance. Fortunately, there were a couple more guys than girls, so I was able to look after changing CDs, and I could sit back and watch without anybody saying a word. We left around midnight.

I had to work Saturday morning. Dad had asked me to trim our bushes and trees, and I knew several neighbors who’d pay me to trim theirs. So I was up at seven and worked until eight at night. I made ninety dollars. Not a bad day’s work.

Mom said Charlie had called while I was out, so I wandered over to his house and knocked on the door. His dad answered. I hadn’t seen him before, but you couldn’t mistake him. He was just an older version of Charlie—same build, same color hair, same grin. He had a half-empty glass in his hand and he was laughing about something. When he saw me, he said, “Well, hey, you must be Glen! Charlie’s told me about you. Sure nice of you to take him under your wing and show him around. Sorry he’s not here right now though. Some girl called him and he took off. Don’t know when he’ll be back.”

I said thanks and went home. I’d worked pretty hard all day, so what I really wanted was to have a shower and go to bed. I was glad Charlie had found something to do.

Sunday morning I got the shock of my life. I was still asleep when Mom knocked on my door and came in to say that Charlie was there with a suit on and he wanted to see me. 

Now, Sunday is my day for sleeping in. But I got up and put on my robe and went out to the living room. Sure enough, there was Charlie in a dark blue suit with a tie and all. I guess I looked kind of dazed because he laughed. 

Then he said, “I couldn’t get you last night. Come on. Grab some clothes. Don’t you know this is Sunday morning?”

“Huh?”

“Sunday morning. Where do people go on Sunday morning?”

“How should I know?”

“They go to church, man. Like to the Wallace Community Evangelical Church.”

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Circle of Friends book #2 - Friends Like This

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