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Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

"I told you I want it in a bag, not one of these killer cartons! Haven't you been listening to anything I've said?"

Trisha Braedon did her best to ignore the angry, insistent voice clamoring for her attention as she stood in line and pushed her cafeteria lunch tray past stacked granola bars, wiggling Jell-O and half-wilted clumps of spinach and lettuce. Despite her effort, the everyday lunchroom sounds of trays colliding, sneakers squealing, registers ringing and kids yelling faded into the background as the same male voice rang out again.

"Take it back."

"Check it out, girlfriend, it's Higheagle at twelve o'clock," Nita Johnson whispered as she came up behind Trisha in the food line. Distracted, Nita bumped into Trisha.

"Watch out," Trisha said as Nita's tray shoved into her own.

Nita didn't miss a beat. Her long purple painted fingernail pointed toward the head of the line. "And would you check out who he's taking on?"

Trisha shook her head. Renowned throughout Houston's Northrupp High for her directional signaling ability to pick out any senior boy within range, Nita Renee Johnson, Trisha's best and oldest friend, had just spotted her number one target: Jon Higheagle. She was better than radar. Trisha leaned forward to pick up a packet of sugar and used the motion to help her get a better view. She had to push her spiral-permed hair behind her ear, then stared. It wasn't often anyone got the best of the cafeteria's head cashier, affectionately known as Old Lady Hempel.

Like a matador facing the bull, Jon Higheagle stood his ground as he continued to thrust the Styrofoam container toward the glowering cashier. A thin braid of black hair dangled like a wayward piece of rope, its tip swaying gently against his cheek. He leaned forward, and his words spewed out at a rapid clip. "Mrs. Hempel, the school shouldn't be a party to the distribution of any items that might harm the environment."

His words spit into the air, landing with a heavy splatter like so many raindrops against a cold driveway. Trisha bet he could cite line and paragraph of the local EPA policy manual. Had to be an obsessed environmentalist intent upon saving the world from certain disaster. The line moved forward as students crossed over to the next line to avoid the altercation. As she started to follow suit, Nita grabbed Trisha's elbow and pulled her back.

"Move up, so we can get a better look," Nita said and rammed Trisha's tray again, causing the wiggling Jell-O to cascade over the sides of the small bowl.

As they approached, Higheagle continued his tirade against the school's lack of environmental sensitivity. Dad and his Chamber of Commerce buddies climb the walls every time the latest environmentalist spouts off on the evening news, Trisha thought. This one doesn't know when to quit. He'd be right at the top of her dad's list of "eco-nuts" if they were to ever meet.

Nita nudged Trisha forward again.

Trisha grabbed a couple of ranch-style dressing packets and tossed them onto her tray, but the glowering couple drew her attention again. Mrs. Hempel's lips, always turned downward, drooped low enough to scoop her way to China. Jon Higheagle continued his sound-byte lecture. Trisha had to admire Jon's good looks. No wonder he topped Nita's hit list.

Higheagle combed his fingers through his hair and Trisha noticed how it skimmed the top of his shirt collar. The thin braid continued its slow swing across the side of his cheek, kissing the lone silver arrow swaying from his earlobe. He leaned in to the cashier; Trisha moved forward as well.

"I refuse to be a party to the destruction of the earth," he said. "Take your box and put my potato in a bag."

"Mr. Higheagle." Mrs. Hempel's frowns deepened as her words cut through the air. "Lower your voice or I'll have to call security."

"Then take it back." Jon turned toward the crowd and held the offensive container away from him as though it reeked of a thousand dirty gym socks. "These polyethylene containers pollute the air. They'll be the death of all of us."

Mrs. Hempel grabbed the offending box as if it were rabid with plague and backhanded it to her co-worker. "Get another potato, Lucille. This time, bag it."

Trisha's stomach muscles tightened as a soft lift graced his lips. "I hope it's recycled paper," she heard him say. Then he smiled ever so sweetly.

"Is he gorgeous or what?" Nita asked under her breath.

Nita tended to exaggerate, but not this time. The dangling arrow glinted against Jon's darkened face like a constellation in a blackened sky. He might have stepped right out of the southwest desert--except for those immaculately white hi-tops.

"He sure is stirring it all up with this eco-stuff," Nita said, fingering her large hooped earring. Nita loved to say that she and Trisha were like two pieces of Godiva chocolate: Trisha wrapped tight like white chocolate, while Nita sat pretty, a saucy semi-sweet dark chocolate morsel. "He can whip me up into a frenzy any 'ol day. Why, I bet he could even set you to spinning, Trisha Lee."

"Shut up," Trisha said, not wanting Jon to overhear, as she and Nita slid closer to the register.

Jon turned and met Trisha's gaze. He flashed her a wide grin. The smile banished the darkness that had overcast his features, and his eyes took on a deeper, blacker sheen. Pools, she thought.

A sudden bump brought Trisha back to reality. Nita and her tray again. "Do you think you could watch where you're going and keep your mind off every boy that comes your way? And stop piling all that stuff on my tray." Trisha transferred the jiggling tower of lime green Jell-O back to Nita's tray. "You know I hate that stuff and I barely have room for my baked potato."

"Fine." Nita carved a space for the orphaned dessert amidst the vegetables, rolls, and two entrees piled haphazardly on her own tray. "If you ask me, you seem to hate just about everything these days."

"I don't know how you do it," she said, pointing to Nita's stacked tray. "You could stuff two cows and a bull with all that junk."

Just then a hand scooped Trisha's baked potato into the air and waved it in front of Mrs. Hempel like some grand prize. "Aha!" Jon said. "Another offender. More pollutants. More toxins just waiting to be released."

Trisha didn't need her lunch to become the red flag that challenged Mrs. Hempel into an even greater rage. Standing on tiptoes, Trisha reached for the container, but her fingertips barely grazed the surface. The box remained high in the air, while a smile played at the edges of Jon's mouth.

"Mr. Higheagle, I find your theatrics totally out of place. Put that potato back."

Jon raised his eyebrows and pointed with his free hand toward Trisha. "You don't want to contribute to the death of the earth any more than I do, do you? Wouldn't you rather have a bag, too?"

Trisha would rather put him in a bag. "Look, I just--"

"Everyone here would be up in arms if they knew how dangerous these containers are." He continued to hold the potato out of her reach as if it were some trophy. "We should boycott the cafeteria if these poisonous agents of commerce aren't removed--permanently."

"--Want my lunch," Trisha continued.

"We have rules here, young man, and you're breaking every one." Mrs. Hempel faced Trisha, who had finally called it quits to her baked-potato-rescue. "Do you want a bag?"

Jon lowered the potato and pointed to the white container. "You can't want your lunch packed in this thing."

"I can and do," Trisha answered. "Not everyone is into all this nutty stuff as you apparently are, and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't include me in on your little crusade." The lunch carton swayed back and forth in front of her eyes. "May I have my food, please?"

"At last," Mrs. Hempel cried. With the barest hint of a smirk, she hit the keys and caused the register to ring. "If you'll return that potato, maybe we can get on with the real business here. You owe three dollars and fifty cents for one iced tea and one baked potato, bagged, as requested."

With barely a glance at Trisha, Jon placed her baked potato onto her tray and shrugged. He pulled a twenty out of his pocket.

"Nothing smaller?" When he didn't answer, Mrs. Hempel ripped the dollar bills out of the tray and dropped his change into his outstretched palm.

Jon graced her with one more annoying grin before he left the register. Trisha and Nita finally advanced to pay.

Ignoring Jon, Trisha plowed through the noisy caucus of cheerleaders and hip-hoppers, football players and rappers, until she edged her way down to the end of a long table where she and Nita could get a moment of privacy. Nita, overloaded tray in hand and overloaded mouth in gear, followed. Jon this, Jon that, Jon everything. Sick of all the praises, Trisha's mounting frustration spilled out into the space between them, "You've got Higheagle-on-the-brain. Is he all you can talk about?"

Nita's parted lips clapped shut. She plunked her tray onto the table between them, tossed her small red shoulder bag onto a chair, and emptied the tray's contents onto the table. With her short, spiked hair and her pursed, pouty lips, she looked about as friendly as a wounded porcupine.

Trisha didn't care. "Surely there's something or someone else you can talk about?" She struggled to keep the edge out of her voice. Jon Higheagle had really gotten to her, but the last thing she wanted was for the whole world to know it. Ignoring Trisha, Nita leaned across the table and removed the gravy-laden plate of chicken fried steak and the bowl of mashed potatoes. Gravy dribbled down her hand, some of it landing on her black tee shirt and speckling her black jeans.

"Forget this," Trisha said as she slid her lunch tray onto the next table. "What is it with you?" Nita continued her wall of silence routine. "Surely Prince Charming hasn't come to claim Cinderella's foot for the lost slipper? He'd probably have the stupid shoe checked to be sure it's environmentally safe."

Nita's knife plowed past the gravy into the meat, scratching the plastic plate as she sawed back and forth.

"Oh, I get it," Trisha said. "His Highness, the Eco-King has finally come to Northrupp High to awaken his queen, Sleeping Beauty."

Nita twirled a spoon inside the iced tea. "Well, Ms. I-Haven't-Got-Time-For-Romance, I've been talking about Jon for weeks. I told you about his first day when he caused the uproar in biology with all his talk about animal rights. You haven't said one word 'til now."

Trisha ignored the sound of the clattering glass. "You haven't been listening. You're so all-fired busy chasing every guy in the senior class so you can wrangle an invitation to the Senior Prom, you don't hear a word I say anymore."

A loud chorus of voices burst through the cafeteria, their clamor drawing everyone's attention and halting Nita's retort. Trisha identified the source of the commotion right away.

Jon Higheagle's passionate voice held sway over the rest of the kids as they quieted down and he continued his vigorous effort to encourage their participation in his crusade.

"So what should we do? Recycle more newspapers? Scrounge up more cans?" one of the kids asked.

"What do you think?" Jon asked, searching the faces in the crowd. "Isn't it time for Northrupp High to take a stand for the environment? One day a year--Earth Day--isn't enough."

Nita giggled and gave Trisha a sidelong glance. "You can't even make it for Earth Day. When was the last day you gave a thought to anything other than your studies, your classes, your I'm-gonna-make-it-or-die-tryin' scholarship effort?"

Grabbing a napkin, Trisha wiped the sweat off her glass and wished she could wipe Nita's sarcasm away just as easily. So what if she didn't get involved in any of the after-school activities that took up most of her classmates' time. She had a life. "Oh, shut up."

Nita cocked her head and kept that same smirk, then turned her attention back to Jon. "You know, I've been meaning to get more involved with all that environmental stuff--you know, Greenpeace, and all those groups."

Trisha nearly choked on her tea, "You're not serious?"

"You bet I am." Nita gazed at the crowd of students still standing and half-sitting around Jon, all trying to hear his every word. "Who wants to live in a world full of poisons?" she asked, then pointed to her very full chest. "Not me. It's criminal when you think about it--all those pollutants polluting up the air. We breathe in that stuff every day--every hour--every minute. Jon-boy is dead-on right, girl. We gotta do something. Like a giant wake up call. That's what this school needs."

"You're not serious." Struck by Nita's sudden passion for ecology, Trisha couldn't get out of the repeat mode. "You can't want to join them?"

"Why not?" Nita leaned toward the crowd's direction. "Here he comes." The words had barely left her mouth when her backside left the chair. She reached for Trisha. "Come on, we're gonna miss him."

"Oh, Heaven forbid."

"Trisha," Nita said, her voice pushing on the last syllable as if the sound alone would somehow get Trisha into motion but Trisha resisted the call.

Nita met Jon halfway down the cafeteria aisle and returned with him in tow. Jon didn't seem to mind her parading him like a roped steer. As they approached, Trisha sank into her chair. Surely the floor would open up beneath her and swallow her whole.

"Here we are," Nita said, pulling out her own chair and nodding to the one beside her.

Nita slid her chair closer to Jon's, but--with the hint of a twinkle in his eye--Jon moved his chair directly across from Trisha and sat down. With his eyes locked onto hers, Trisha heard his voice, now lower and softer. "Hello again," he said.

Chapter Two

"Hope I didn't make you mad earlier...friends?" Jon said and offered an outstretched hand.

Trisha stared at his hand. The silver framed turquoise stone winked from his finger while a wide silver band full of carvings slipped out from under his shirt cuff. Different, she thought.

Another smile flashed. "Tell me you're not mad about that bit earlier?" he asked. "I shouldn't have pulled you into the argument."

"I'm not--"

"One of the environmental whackos?" he said. "I know. There's room for everyone, though if you continue to hold out, I may have to shift the focus of my campaign from the school onto you." He reached for her hand. "I won't hold it against you, if you won't hold it against me. Can we start over?"

No wonder he had half the school behind him. Despite her annoyance with him, she heard herself say, "We all over do it at times--"

I was hoping you wouldn't hold it against me." He turned his focus toward Nita. "You'll both come this afternoon?" he asked, his voice full of hope. "We can use all the help we can get."

"I was just tellin' Trisha how I thought I'd like to get involved," Nita said, scrambling to get herself back into the conversation. "I'll bring poster board. I have plenty left over from art class. Trisha's good with words. Between the two of us we can make some eye-catching signs."

Squealing sneakers and a bouncing basketball interrupted their talk. Jeremy Battle came to a screeching halt next to Jon. While Jeremy reached for a chair, Trisha checked out his shoes for any sign of smoke. High-fiving it to Jon, Jeremy twirled the chair so he could sit, facing its back. All the while, he kept the basketball in constant motion, bouncing, twirling, dribbling. The slap against the tiled floor punctuated his speech. "Hey, Nita. Hey, Trish. Whatta-ya-say, Jon-boy, are we or are we not on for tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow night?" Nita asked. Trisha was positive she could see two barely visible, quivering antennas emerge from Nita's head. "What's on?"

"We're on," Jon answered and pulled out a folded over piece of paper. "Most definitely, we're on." Smoothing out the note, he scanned the sheet and recited several names as he counted off the numbers. "Randall, Landford, Taylor--even Brooks--are all coming. More said they'd make it."

Trisha stared. Jon had just listed some of the top sports jocks at Northrupp High. Not only didn't she know what they were talking about, but she hadn't a clue as to why they were all talking to each other. Jeremy, who walked around with a basketball attached to his palm and rapped his way down hallways, drove every teacher in the school nuts with his constant noise and motion. Jon, the new kid on the block, had obviously become the newsmaker of the day with his passionate crusading tactics, and the rest of the boys were equally single-minded with their sports-is-my-god mentality. None of them had anything in common, at least nothing Trisha could see.

"All right," Jeremy crooned. "Tomorrow it is. Five o'clock, my man." Jeremy shot a look at Nita, who, by now, had edged herself close enough to Jon to see the list of names. A slight sag appeared at the corner of his mouth as he spoke. "So, Nita-girl, you gonna make it, too?"

"To what? All I see is a list of names. Who else is gonna be there? And how come we're not on the list?"

"You could slow down and ask one thing at a time, girl." Jeremy slid his chair directly across from her. His dark eyes gleamed as he spoke. "Here's the deal. First, we're all gonna get together and do our thing tomorrow afternoon..." he held up his hand. "I know...that is to say we're gonna make some signs and the like. Then we're off."

"Off where?" she asked.

"Tomorrow is "The" Day. We're gonna have the BIG sign-in and then' we're gonna have the BIG love-in."

Nita pulled a lock of hair into a straight spike as she stared at Jeremy. "A love-in?"

Jon, who had kept quiet during all of Jeremy's explanations, burst out laughing. "Not the kind you're thinking of. We're going to the Administration Building tomorrow night."

"The Admin building?" Trisha echoed.

"Ohmygawd, you're not gonna picket the school board?" Nita asked, near awe in her voice.

Jon grinned and upped the intensity of his high voltage smile. "We are. You two game?"

"You're kidding, right?" Trisha asked.

"Nope."

"Man, of course he's serious--serious as a heart attack, ain't 'cha bro'? You're gonna lead the charge against the school board. We're gonna have a major clean-in instead of a love-in," Jeremy finished.

"That's right," Jon added. "Tomorrow we storm the Admin building. We're gonna demand the school board get rid of all the poisonous killer-cartons and go back to plain old paper bags, right Jon-boy?"

"Right."

Jeremy spiked the basketball, jumped out of his chair and slammed it once more on the return. "Look, I gotta shoot some hoops. I'll see ya' tomorrow," he said, and high-fived Jon.

"As you say, five, it is," Jon answered. "We'll meet out front after classes and get the signs ready."

Jeremy nodded and scooted his way down the cafeteria aisle toward the exit, his shoes making time with the bouncing ball. Just as he was about to duck through the door, he looped the basketball high into the overhead net and made the hoop. A couple of kids whistled and stomped and Jeremy was out the door. Jon turned his attention back to Nita and Trisha.

"Well, are you two in?"

Nita inched closer. "Maybe," she said. "What'd you have in mind?"

Still not taking his eyes from Trisha, he answered. "You're both coming?"

"Of course, we are--"

"Wait a minute--" Trisha began and broke his intense gaze.

"--I'd like to get more involved," Nita continued. "You could miss one night of work, couldn't you, girl?"

"How about it?" Jon asked, piling on.

"I have to get the bank deposit done..."

"Your Dad can do that for one night. And Michael can give up practice one afternoon. Come on, this is important," Nita said, her voice high and plaintive.

Jon's eyes danced, reflecting the cafeteria's fluorescent light. "I can count on you?"

Trisha tried not to give in. "I don't know..."

"You'll love it," Jon said as though she'd agreed. "We'll have a great time getting everyone involved and all the signs ready. Meet me in front of the front double doors by the principal's office, then we'll all go to Benj's place. His parents have a triple car garage we can use, and it's right down from the school. We can walk there from here."

"We'll be there," Nita promised, her eyes full of Jon.

Jon rose, pushing his chair into the table. "Trisha?"

"She'll be there." Nita said, rushing in before Trisha could say another word. "We both will."

"Later."

Trisha bit the inside of her cheek and counted to ten, waiting for Jon Higheagle to be out of earshot. Finally, she turned on Nita and asked, "Why did you tell him we'd both be there?"

"Because we will."

* * *

"Humph! If she thinks I'm going to that sign making party just to make her life more bearable so she can be near Jon, she's crazy," Trisha muttered to no one as she refilled the salt and pepper shakers and slid them across the table. The sound of the shakers knocking into the mini-Wurlitzer juke box sitting on the table made her jump and she glanced toward the grill where her father continued his hamburger slapping. Trisha's nonstop not-so-quiet fuming kept pace with her finishing the rest of the booths against the long, windowed end of the diner.

How could Nita think she'd get involved in all that after school stuff? As if Trisha had plenty of time to kill. Of all people, Nita knew how important it was for Trisha to get the McClintock scholarship. Nita knew all about the divorce, all about her mother's desertion, all about Trisha's absolute refusal to accept anything from her mother. She didn't have time to play around with some environmental stuff just to get some boy's attention. No matter how good looking he was.

Trisha was straightening up the last booth when the when the sweet and sassy scent of Nita's perfume alerted her. She looked up in time to see Nita barrel down the double row of booths. Trisha moved to the next booth and began wiping the tabletop.

"You were supposed to meet me after school." Nita's voice crackled, sharp and strident.

Trisha pushed the rag faster. "You know my schedule. It's impossible for me to do anything after school."

Nita slammed her books down and stared Trisha down. "Your dad would let you off if you asked him."

"That's not the point." The blue and pink squares of artificial sweetener slipped through Trisha's fingers and slid to the floor. Still talking, Trisha bent down and scooped up the packets. "Some of us have responsibilities. We don't all have it as easy as you. I have things I have to do after school, like work, like take Michael to the bowling alley. I can't just take off whenever I want to."

"Oh get real, girl. You can't hide behind that excuse forever. You've got to get out more and mingle; get a social life. You don't even date anymore. All you think of is work, work, work and school, school, school."

Trisha sighed and stopped her incessant cleaning. "Nita, I have to work, and I have to make top grades. My dad can't afford to send me to college like your folks can--"

"Your mother can afford to send you--"

"I'm not taking her money."

"You're being stubborn. Just because your mom moved up north after the divorce--"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Nita shrugged and plopped down onto the cushioned seat. She fiddled with the salt shaker. "I just don't see why you can't lighten up some. It's like you're out to prove something to the world."

"Maybe I am."

"You're just hurting yourself. There's no real reason why you can't go. Mr. Jeffries said he'd give extra credit to anyone who did an afterschool project on the environment or participated in some kind of recycling. I bet this would qualify."

Pushing her hair back from her eyes, Trisha sighed and sat across from Nita. "I don't feel like going. There's no time." She waved her hand as though taking in the entire burger stand. "My father needs my help every day. And you know how much practice Michael is putting in on his bowling now. He's so focused right now and positive that he's going to roll a 300."

Nita grinned. "Michael's cool for a 12 year old. If any kid can bowl a perfect game, he can."

"Yeah," Trisha said, smiling. "For a kid brother, he's not so bad. But I have to get him to practice and that cuts in to the time I have to give here to the Shack."

Nita toyed with the amethyst ring and twirled it around her pinky finger. "But where's your life? You haven't dated a single guy this year." She leaned forward. "How can you can stand it?"

Trisha leaned her head back against the red vinyl booth and laughed out loud. "Trust me, it's easy. Though I doubt it would be as easy for you."

"I couldn't stand anyone even thinking I'd been without a date for even two weeks. That's absolutely criminal."

"What's criminal is the attention span of the guys we know. Most of them could care less about school and grades. All they care about is sports or they just want to party and have a good time." Trisha slumped forward. "That's not what I'm about."

"Maybe not, but you need to lighten up some. Trust me, we don't have Mr. Perfect here or I'd have found him, but they're not all as bad as you make out." Nita eyed Trisha conspiratorially. "Now Higheagle--that guy's not only a hunk, he's smart and committed. And is he pretty to look at or what?"

Trisha smiled and up rumbled a real belly laugh. "You're boy crazy, that's your problem."

"I'm sure crazy about this one," Nita retaliated. "I don't want to go by myself. Ask your Dad."

"I don't think I should."

"If you won't do it for me, do it for yourself. You said you needed a really high grade in Jeffries's class, so go for the extra credit."

Trisha hadn't noticed her father had come out from behind the grill until he stood about two booths away and called over. "You go ahead and do this school thing. Michael and I can handle it today."

"I don't feel like it."

"If you can get the extra credit, then go." Her father held up his hand and stifled her protest. "Not another word."

Chapter Three

Trisha heard all the noise and clamor before she saw it: a boom box bellowing, kids hollering back and forth to each other, laughing, giggling.

"Come on, Trisha," Nita called as she sprinted toward the opened three car garage and joined in with kids dancing to the rap music.

In the center stood Jon Higheagle, overseeing the placement of placards and poster boards. Sun streamed through the open doorway and cast a spotlight effect onto him. He was the musician conducting the band, the coach encouraging the team. Behind him, Jeremy floated by on roller blades, still bouncing the ever-present basketball. For all the commotion, Trisha found she couldn't take her eyes off the leader of the band. No wonder Nita was infatuated with him. Just then Jon turned around.

"You came," he called out and started toward her.

Trisha entered the makeshift arena and returned his smile. For the first time, she understood the full Higheagle charm. His eyes held hers as he came closer. Sunlight glinted off his blue-black hair. For a split second she could almost picture him standing on a red rock butte framed against a western desert sky, his black eyes a vivid contrast to the sudden image.

"Come take a look," he said, motioning to the cardboard tables lined against the garage walls. He grabbed a poster board covered in black and red lettering. "Isn't this great?"

Trisha read the slogan: Put an end to killer cartons.

"And look over here," he said, pointing to placards leaning against the wall. "We've only been here an hour or so and already have a few dozen signs."

"What do you plan to do with all this?"

"We're going to hit the cafeteria during lunch tomorrow. I thought Nita told you. That bit with the cashier today was only the beginning. Tomorrow we demand they do away with the Styrofoam containers."

"I see."

"You sound as if you don't approve."

"I'm just not as proactive as the rest of you are. Aren't you moving a little fast?"

"Fast? You saw how irritated and obstinate Old Lady Hempel was when I demanded she put my baked potato in aluminum foil and a paper bag."

"Well, that's just it," Trisha said. "You demanded."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you ever thought of simply asking? You usually get more with honey than vinegar."

"So I've heard."

Trisha heard the sound of the basketball before she saw him. Jeremy angled to a stop and looked at both of them. "Yo, what gives? You two just going to stand around and stare at each other or are you gonna help us get these signs done?"

Jon grinned and cocked his head to one side while Trisha shrugged. "I suppose that's why I'm here."

"Attaway," Jeremy said and took off after Nita who was unrolling butcher-block paper down the length of the driveway.

"A banner?" Trisha asked.

"Why not?" Jon answered and handed her a king-sized black marker. "Shall we?"

Before she could answer, Jon grabbed her hand and led her over to a long conference style table and pulled out a poster board. "Have at it."

Trisha stared at the blank poster board, her mind still on Jon Higheagle. Somehow she had to shift gears. The slap of a basketball hitting the pavement drew her attention to the driveway where several boys jostled one another in a friendly game of hoops. Jeremy roller-bladed around them, circling them. Every now and then Jeremy would give a sidelong glance toward Nita and Trisha smiled. She knew how much he cared for Nita, but boy-crazy as she was, Nita did not have her eyes on Basketball Boy.

Trisha let a sigh escape before she turned back to the poster board. She hadn't the slightest clue as to what to put down. Her interest in environmental issues extended about as far as her father's did--not far at all. Green might be a good place to start. Silently, she began rhyming: green - bean - keen - dean...nothing. By the time she reached "m", Jon reappeared and waved his hand in front of her face.

"Earth to Trisha."

Trisha glanced down at the empty poster and smiled. "Guess I'm not the best artist in the bunch. No ideas."

"I have enough for both of us. Just be there tomorrow."

"I never said I'd actually picket. Help with signs maybe."

"Aren't you the least little bit concerned about all the pollutants being released into the atmosphere from those stupid containers the school's using? Not even you could call it a necessary evil."

"What do you mean 'not even me?'"

"No offense, but Nita said you were the least socially conscious person she knew."

"She what?"

"And that you spend all your time buried in books, studying for some scholarship you're bound and determined to win."

"That isn't-- "

"Don't get me wrong, that's cool--"

"Well, thank you, Mr. Green Jeans. I'm so glad to have your approval."

"I didn't mean to offend--"

"You're well on your way."

"I just meant, I understand if you don't want to join in."

"I never said I wasn't going to do it--"

"Then you'll help get some of the posters into the cafeteria?"

Nita's loud voice rang across the garage. "You can count on both of us."

Trisha gave Jon a weak smile.

Nita turned her lips pouty, and Trisha knew it was a lost cause. "We'll be there."

"Fantastic!"

"Jon," Nita said, giving him one of her really good come-on smiles. "How about a burger when we're done here?"

Jon glanced around. "Why don't we see what everyone else wants to do."

Trisha watched as a wave of disappointment washed over Nita's face. Nita had hoped to wrangle a date, but having everyone else around was not her idea of a party. Jon strolled over and talked to Jeremy for a few minutes. The rest of the kids piled into several trucks and cars and took off.

"So," Nita began, "what's the verdict? Burgers?"

Jon leaned several signs against the wall. "Pizza Dan's for a pre-picket bash. You two coming?"

Before Nita could spill her disappointment, Trisha spoke. "Glad to." She grabbed the crestfallen Nita and tugged her arm. "Let's go."

Not to be outdone, Nita tried once more. "Want to come with?"

"Got my truck. I'll join you there."

"We'll save you a seat."

"Let's go," Trisha said, "before everyone orders everything we hate." She headed for the car, Nita in tow. "Come on before he figures out just how desperate you are."

Nita fell in step behind her.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later they were standing in line behind everyone else at the Pizza counter and fending off orders for pineapple pizza. Trisha ordered extra cheese, and Nita pointed to her favorite topping and held up two fingers for extra Canadian bacon. Nita led the way to a booth at the far corner where she slid toward the window and pointed for Trisha to take the other side. "Keep a look-out for Jon," she said. "He can sit next to me."

"Well be a wallflower, why don't you," Trisha said but smiled so Nita would know she was kidding.

"I know, I know," Nita answered, "but he's so good looking. Everyone wants him to ask them to the prom."

Trisha smiled and tried not to look motherly. "Not me."

"You don't even care if you get asked."

Trisha shrugged. "I don't have time for that sort of stuff."

"I'll make up for both of us then," Nita said and grinned. "Here he comes. Isn't he gorgeous?"

Trisha turned in time to see Jon enter. The room seemed to grow smaller, and everyone turned to look. He certainly drew attention to himself, she thought, but then realized he wasn't even aware of his audience as he strolled to the counter and gave his order. He might not notice the girl at the counter, but she was definitely aware of him.

Nita was halfway to the front when Jeremy appeared out of nowhere and waylaid her. Trisha knew Nita would be furious with him. Jeremy would be the last person Nita would want Jon to see her with. If she worked overtime at anything it was to keep people from thinking there was anything going on between her and Jeremy. Nita sidestepped Jeremy but he seemed more than a little determined to stop her progress. Trisha wondered if he didn't know exactly what Nita had on her mind and sighed. Looks like she'd have to go to bat for her friend.

Trisha tapped Jon on the shoulder and watched the counter girl's smile fade. She couldn't help but notice the smile that lit Jon's face when he recognized her. "Hi." She hoped he didn't hear the catch in her voice and tried to ignore the slight tightening of her stomach. "Nita's saved you a seat."

Jon glanced past her to where Nita still stood with Jeremy and grinned. "Love to."

"Your number is 10," the counter girl said with a sly look.

"Thanks," Jon answered, and Trisha realized he didn't even get the not so subtle meaning.

Jon followed her to the back booth and slid in behind her. Nita was not going to like this turn of events, either.

"Tell me about this scholarship," he asked.

Trisha tried to suppress the pleasure she felt as she heard his question. "What have you heard?"

He turned his body more toward her. "Just that you're a determined, dedicated, totally focused person who has no time for man or beast."

Trisha resisted the urge to move back against the wall. She wasn't used to having anyone so close to her, especially the male type. The thought of Nita returning at any time didn't ease her comfort level either. "My time is pretty much taken up with school and study and work."

"And the scholarship?"

"My one big chance to get into Rice University. The local businessman's organization gives out a $10,000 scholarship every year. They say I have a good chance."

Jon whistled. "Ten thousand."

"My Dad can't afford to send me to Rice. It'll take a combination of scholarships and grants to keep me in the four years, so I have to keep my grades up if I'm to make it. Grade point average, SAT scores, teacher's references, character references, everything comes into play."

"What's your major going to be?"

"Business and Finance."

"A future corporate player."

Tired of the inquisition, Trisha turned the tables. "What are your goals?"

"Goals," Jon repeated and laughed. "You are directed, aren't you. Obviously I'm into environmental policies, conservation, community and corporate responsibility."

Trisha nodded.

"My main desire is to make a difference in the way society deals with the issues."

"And picketing and protesting is the way you think you'll effect change?"

"That's part of it--"

"But not all?"

"Hardly. Conservation and restoration continue to be big issues."

"Does that put us on opposite sides?"

"If the corporate world doesn't start taking a more proactive view of environmental problems and see what damage and havoc they are creating, it will. They're destroying the earth as we know it."

"Save it for the faithful. Sounds like emotional rhetoric designed to work up the troops." Trisha tried to shake the feeling that she was parodying her father's litany of complaints against the environmentalists.

"Getting to know each other?" Nita's face didn't match the friendliness of her voice.

"We were waiting for you."

"I just bet you were," Nita fired back and fell into the booth. She stared at the two of them. "What's got you two all worked up?"

"Just a friendly disagreement, that's all," Jon answered and relaxed the tension from his body. "Trisha and I were comparing environmental notes."

"She hasn't got one clue about the environment. All she knows is books, books and more books."

"We don't have to continue," Trisha said and looked at Jon. "You're going have to move if I'm to get out."

"We just got here," Nita complained. Before she could protest any further, the counter girl appeared carrying one very large pizza saturated with cheese and an extra heavy topping of Canadian bacon disks. "And we have all this to eat." Nita turned to Jon. "Help us?"

Trisha tried not to let her exasperation show. "We'll leave as soon as we're finished. I have to get back to the Shack."

"The Shack?"

"That's her Dad's place. You know, the burger place near the highway by the school."

"Oh yea, I've seen it. Haven't been in there yet." Jon moved a little closer to Trisha. "But that'll change."

Oh fine, Trisha thought, why don't you ask me out with Nita glaring at both of us? Nita's body language was anything but relaxed.

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