Free Zipped by Laura McNeal Page B

quiet. She was wondering what Elder Keesler was doing in his apartment right now. Elder Keesler. Elder Keesler. Elder Keesler.
    Janice was quiet, too. Then, a little too casually, she said, “You know, I’ve been thinking about that stuff you told me about Maurice.”
    The mere mention of his name made Lisa wary. “And?”
    â€œAnd that whole Gomez thing kind of just sounds like a bad joke to me. And I’d rather have to wear my shirt a little small than way big, which is what Ned handed to me.”
    Lisa considered—and rejected—this. “No,” she said, “those actions were the first droplets of Maurician slime.”
    Janice gave this a chuckle. “Okay, class, let’s make a note of ‘Maurician slime.’ ”
    There was a silence. Lately there had been a lot of silences. Finally Lisa said, “Okay, I’ll bet my too-small T-shirt that Maurice Gritz is a sleazeball sexist creep.”
    â€œSays our little Mormon, who is right this minute lusting after a celibate missionary.”
    â€œI left out racist,” Lisa said, flushing. “I should’ve said sleazeball racist sexist creep.”
    â€œThat’s a mouthful, girlfriend,” Janice said, laughing.
    Lisa forced herself to stop looking out the window and sit down. She didn’t immediately look at Janice, but when she did, Janice didn’t look mad. She had finished her crust and was looking at the half moon of unbroken pizza.
    â€œOkay,” Janice said, “just one more.”
    â€œWe’ll do sit-ups afterward and go for a run.”
    â€œHundreds of sit-ups,” Janice said.
    â€œThousands.”
    They each broke off another slice.
    A bite or two later Janice said, “So what about that one guy who got assigned to your crew, the one who’s always following you around?”
    Lisa’s cheeks pinkened slightly. “Mick Nichols. And he doesn’t follow me around.”
    â€œOh, excuse me very much. He just happens to pop up wherever you happen to be.”
    Lisa didn’t say anything. To her surprise, she felt a pleasant warmth moving through her body. She didn’t know Mick Nichols, but she didn’t mind the idea of him popping up wherever she happened to be.
    â€œSo what’s his story anyway?” Janice said.
    Lisa shrugged. “He’s A.P. and doesn’t play sports. That’s all I know.” She could picture him though. He was average sized, but he had dark curly hair, and something about his eyes made him look like he was always amused at something, and she didn’t know why exactly, but she liked the way he walked. “He’s kind of cute, I guess, and at least he’s not rich.” He also wasn’t Mormon, but who was, besides Thaine Briscoe, and he was about two feet shorter than Lisa.
    â€œI’d trade him something good for that olive complexion,” Janice said. “I’ll bet he gets tan in about ten seconds.” She was quiet a few moments. Then, “He’s friends with Weinie Reece, isn’t he?”
    Alarms rang in Lisa’s head. Winston Reece was in two of Janice’s classes, and Lisa knew Janice believed in indirect negotiation. “Don’t even think about it, Janice,” she said.
    Janice was grinning. “Think about what?”
    â€œAbout grilling Winston Reece about Mick Nichols!” Lisa said.
    â€œLet’s not call it grilling,” Janice said. “Let’s call it a few gently probing questions.”
    â€œI mean it, Janice!” Lisa said.
    â€œShe means it,” Janice said, still grinning.
    Lisa set down her pizza. “Look, Janice—”
    â€œOkay, okay, okay,” Janice said. “Settle down, schoolgirl.”
    Lisa was wary. “So you promise?”
    Janice stopped grinning. They’d made a pact a long time ago. That a promise really would be a promise. “Yeah, I do,” she said.
    â€œDo