"Try not to drool on it when you eat." He said as his friend dropped the
binder in his own carry case. "I realize that I'm asking a lot, but I do
try to take care of my study notes."
"Funny, Rossi, real funny." Came Bobby's reply. "There are times I
wonder why I kept them from putting you out with the trash."
Mike didn't seem to hear the comeback. His attention seemed to be
concentrated on his knapsack as he sorted through it's contents looking for
something. A worried look flashed across his face as he began to shift
through the books and binders a second time.
"Lose something? Bobby inquired.
"My sketchbook," Mike replied as he looked a third time. "It's not
here!"
"You sure?"
"Of course I'm sure," He answered, a tense anxiousness in his voice.
"I've looked three times!"
Michael's great love was drawing, and his sketchbook was his pride. Not
that he ever showed it to anyone. Sure once and a while he would produce a
portrait for someone after he had ripped it from the book, but no one ever
saw the book itself.
"Hey don't worry about it, it's just a book. I'll bet it's sitting in
your locker or under your desk in one class or another." Bobby said as he
glanced at his watch and saw that the bus would be there in a few minutes.
"Don't worry about it, you'll get it Monday.
The hard angry look he suddenly got from his friend told him he had said
exactly the wrong thing. It was as if after causing a loosing fumble, Mike
had told him football was only a game.
"Ok, I'm a thick headed jock and don't know anything about art." Bobby
apologized. "I know you're going to go back and look for it, do you want
me to go back with you?"
"Nah, I don't want you to be late for your job at McDonalds." Mike said,
accepting the apology. "You might need those job skills some day."
"It's a good thing you're such a hot shot artist, cause as a comedian
you'd make a great waiter."
"There's the bus, get going!" Mike said as he pointed out the gray bus
rounding the corner.
"Ok, ok." Mike said as he grabbed his bag and started to head for the
stop.
"One of these days, I really want to see what's in that book." He said
after he had gone a few stops. "My moneys on a dozen or so nudes of Jenny
Greene!" Bobby added, making reference to the girl who was without
question, the hottest babe in school.
From the sudden blank look he saw on his friend's face before he turned
to run the last twenty feet, Bobby got the impression he hadn't been far
off.
After checking his locker and coming up empty, Mike began to reverse his
steps for his last few periods. The book had been in his bag during his
lunch. He'd done a quick sketch of Timmy Butler playing his sax in the
lunchroom. Mike clearly remembered putting it away after that. Having no
luck in the rooms used for English Literature and Health Science, the brown
haired youth headed for the second floor and American History.
Since entering the school, Mike had only passed one other person in the
halls. The dismissal bell on a Friday afternoon was like the starting gun
at the races. Even the Teachers were usually gone by 3:10. With luck, he
would find the book fast and make the 3:35 bus.
Quickly moving to his desk in the back of the classroom, Mike lifted the
desktop, only to find it held only a few papers and a spare pencil. He was
sure, it had to have been here. The only other possibility was Music
Appreciation, but they'd listened to a concert tape today and he hadn't
even opened his bag in that class. Could someone have taken the book out
of his bag somewhere else.
"Did you lose something?" Asked a voice from the front of the room.
Mike whirled around to find himself faced by Mrs. Koda, his history
teacher. Normally, Mike loved sitting in the back of the room and watching
Mrs. Koda teach. It wasn't that he had such an interest in history, it
was that he loved watching her walk around the room.
Arlene Koda was as far from the stereotype school teacher image as you
could get. Standing 5'6", she had long curly red hair that reached down to
below her shoulders. Bright emerald green eyes lit up her face and she had
a body that not even Jenny Greene could match. As on most days, she was
dressed rather conservatively, a plain white blouse and blue skirt. Yet
even these plain clothes couldn't hid the woman beneath.
Only in her early thirties, Mike had heard someone once say that she had
come in second runner up in some statewide beauty contest back when she was
in college. If she had come in third, Mike couldn't imagine what number
one and two could've looked like.
"Is something wrong Mr. Rossi?" He heard her ask.
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