Free Doreen by Ilana Manaster Page B

continued to walk and he scuttled off the wall to keep up with her.
    â€œI’ve been wanting to see you. I called. Did you get my message? There’s something I wanted to—”
    â€œI’m sorry, but I’m running late.”
    â€œDoreen. Doreen! Will you stop for a minute? I want to ask you about the Fall Dance.”
    â€œMm? You know I love talking to you Gordon, but I have an appointment in town that I can’t be late for. You understand. Can we pick this up later?”
    â€œIn town? Right now? Can I come with you? Or let me give you a ride.”
    â€œNo, no. Thank you, but I have to go by myself. It’s, uh, it’s a private matter.”
    â€œBut . . . okay. Yeah, okay. Fine. Go. We’ll talk later.” Gordon stood by a pillar and watched her walk away. He was really very miserable over her. It was wonderful in an annoying way or annoying in a wonderful way, she couldn’t be sure which. In any case, when she turned the corner, away from his line of vision, Doreen felt remarkably free.
    Of course, there was no appointment in town. Doreen walked without a destination. It felt like stolen time—to be away from campus with nowhere to go and to be totally alone. She was content to wander, to allow her mind to do the same. After all, she had experienced so many changes in just a few short weeks, she often felt like it was all happening without her.
    She walked and walked, letting whim be her guide, rejoicing in the brisk fall air, the precious freedom. Her mind churned away and the afternoon turned to dusk. She found herself standing before a field where local kids were gathering on bleachers to watch a football game. She heard band music and cheering. Without thinking, she followed the throng into the stands and settled into a seat on the away side.
    The scene was harrowing. Doreen recognized the crowd—not individually, but as a force that had caused her so much pain in her previous life. She sat among kids who would have been her enemies, who would have mocked her, made her feel worthless. Now all had changed. In the chic red coat that had been a gift from Biz, she still didn’t fit in, but rather than feeling inferior, she felt the opposite.
    You poor thugs , she thought, looking around at the crowd of face-painted, pennant-waving idiots. You poor, sick souls who think this is the best in life. I know the best. I’ve seen it, tasted it, worn it. You don’t know anything but this, you cretins. You will never have power over me again! You will never be able to make me feel anything but grateful for having escaped your ugly little world.
    The cheerleaders flip-flopped and cartwheeled and threw one another in the air. Doreen had been jealous of the cheerleaders at her old school. But now she saw how vulgar they were, volunteering their bodies for ogling in the name of school spirit. They were nothing but flesh for the eyes. It was delightfully horrible. And then there was the band. The band! They were insufferable! Could they be playing their instruments wrong? Trying to blow from the wrong side? It was all so deliciously bad, she sat on her hard seat grinning, unable to pull herself away.
    But then there was a change on the field. The home team, Hamilton High, had taken possession of the ball and a reverent hush came over the crowd, as if they were not on bleachers, but on pews. Doreen spotted the source right away. It was the quarterback. Number Ten. He was some kind of genius, a physical genius. Doreen had never seen anything like it. Masculine, with an impressively built-up body, he had the grace of a dancer. Quick and light on his feet, he moved deliberately, fast but unhurried, even when chased by a defensive line. And despite his lightness he possessed a deep center, a gravitas, as if his body was in communication with the earth’s core.
    It was masculine beauty the likes of which Doreen had never experienced. She sat and watched like she was