Free The Hard Kind of Promise by Gina Willner-Pardo Page B

was Jesse Pike," she said, letting her hair fall back down. "He's not really that cute, but he's better than Eugene Brownmueller."
    "Both the boys I got were disgusting," Carly said. "And I would have gotten Steve Birgantee the second time if Yvonne Brondello hadn't cut in line. She actually pushed me out of the way to get to him."
    "You should have pushed back," Lizzie said.
    "Have you seen her arms?" Carly swallowed the last of her cracker. "I'm a little afraid of her."
    "Who did you think was best-looking other than Steve Birgantee?" Sarah asked, just to have something to say. She was actually a little bored. She kept wondering what Marjorie was doing. She missed her.
    "Maybe Thomas Su. Maybe Nick Ballantine," Lizzie said. "Who did you think was cute?"
    "Robert Whitchurch looked kind of okay," Sarah said.
    Carly was looking at her fingernails, checking to make sure they were all the same length. "I think he likes you," she said to Sarah. "He kept looking at you."
    "He does not like me," Sarah said, but inside, she felt hot and fluttery.
    "Well, why was he looking at you, then?" Carly asked.
    "If he liked me, he would have tried to get in the right place in line to dance with me," Sarah said.
    "Not necessarily," Lizzie said. "Boys are idiots."
    "Do you like him?" Carly asked.
    Sarah hesitated. She wanted to tell someone that she might like Robert Whitchurch, that she didn't want a boyfriend or anything, but she might like him, maybe. It would be a relief to say it out loud. But telling someone seemed a little dangerous, like going through a door with a NO ENTRANCE sign.
    "No," she said. "I mean, I like him. But I don't
like
him."
    "You like him," Carly said. "I can tell."
    "No, I don't."
    "Then why are you blushing?" she asked.
    "Because I'm hot," Sarah said. "Quit it."
    "Come on," Lizzie said. She took one of Carly's crackers. "Just because you like someone doesn't mean you
like
him."
    "Stop stealing my food," Carly said. She took another look at her nails. "I don't like anyone. Even Steve Birgantee. I mean, he's really cute and really nice, but he's not really my type."
    "How can someone cute and nice not be your type?" Lizzie asked.
    It was a relief to hear them chatter, to listen and not have to say anything. To not be missing Marjorie anymore. To think, in the privacy of her own head, about how Robert might like her.

    In chorus, Mr. Roche handed out updated rehearsal schedules.
    "After school every day until six," he said. "And every weekend. Ten to three, Saturdays and Sundays."
    "That's like two extra days of school!" Nina French wailed. "I have to go to church!"
    "There will be exceptions for religious services," Mr. Roche said. "But not for anything else. This is serious, people. Commitment!"
    "How are we even supposed to do homework?" Robert Whitchurch whispered to Sarah.
    "Or do anything?" Sarah whispered back.
    That was when she remembered Marjorie's movie.
    "We have two and a half weeks. Two and a half weeks!" Mr. Roche said. "We have to use all the time we have left to prepare."
    Sarah raised her hand. "But Mr. Roche—"
    "No buts!" he boomed. "I told you all that this was how it had to be if you want to win the competition. Chorus comes first."
    "But—"
    He glared at her.
    "No exceptions," he said.
    Sarah lowered her hand. She knew it was pointless to argue. She sagged in her seat, washed over by foreboding, knowing what she was going to have to do.
    "I can't believe I have to miss basketball tryouts," Robert said.
    "That's too bad," she said, trying not to notice Lizzie making faces at her, which was just Lizzie's way of saying how cool it was that Robert was talking to her.
    "What do you have to miss?" he asked.
    "Nothing as big as that," she said.

    She told Marjorie that afternoon in the parking lot while Marjorie waited to be picked up.
    "I can do it after three o'clock on weekends," she
said, shouting a little to be heard over all the kids who were waiting for rides home.
    "That won't work,"