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Their problems outside school were harder to resolve.
They sat at the kitchen table at Lea's house trying
to get through the evening's quota of homework as quickly
as possible. Finally, rather later than they had hoped,
they set off to visit the Professor.
"Wish I could figure out what poem to read,"
Lea complained.
"Still no inspiration?"
"Lots of inspiration but nothing really fits.
What do you read at a charity fundraiser?"
"Something uplifting? Something familiar?"
"And the title of that poem would be...?"
Michael couldn't think of anything at all. "Doesn't
Daffodil have an idea? She looks the type to spend evenings
with her nose in a poetry book." Miss Plant was
such an easy target it was hardly worth making fun of
her, but sometimes Michael couldn't resist.
"I was kind of hoping to choose something myself.
Think I'm being too proud?"
"Leave me the book tonight? Maybe I could find
something."
"Would you?" She trusted Michael's judgement.
He had declined to offer help until she hinted that
he should.
They walked briskly on and Michael turned his collar
up. A sprinkling of rain was falling and he noticed
that it settled in individual droplets in Lea's wavy
brown hair. The lamplight made them sparkle.
He admired almost everything about her. Other girls
at school seemed only too quick to understand their
own appeal and Michael hated the way they used it to
their advantage. They were playing a game of power and
they knew they were holding good cards.
Lea never behaved like that. She was much fairer to
people, much simpler. But as time passed he found it
harder to understand their own relationship. They had
been friends since they were small children and it was
difficult to escape from such a platonic legacy, much
as he wanted to. Their future was the only subject that
Lea would not discuss.
Occasionally she allowed him to kiss her but the intimacy
caused more problems than it solved and made the frustration
all the harder to bear. She usually sent him home right
afterwards, telling him without blushing what he needed
to do next. She was practical, that much he had to admit.
As if to prove it, she spoke suddenly. "Hey, what
about Hector? Any brainwave yet on how we get him home?"
"As a matter of fact, yes. I did think of something."
"Want to share it?"
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