Free Knee High by the 4th of July by Jess Lourey Page B

leaves on the front of the packet; one Buttercrunch lettuce with a picture of a thick and tender head of greens on its front; and one Emerald Oak Looseleaf lettuce with bright green leaves as delicate and whorled as a baby’s ears gracing the packet. I slid off my right hand and shook the Buttercrunch packet, enjoying the grainy sound of the seeds falling all over one another.
    Despite my best intentions to remain crabby and distant, I became lost in Johnny’s smooth, deep voice as he explained that it was probably best to sow beets every two weeks for the first two thirds of the summer to keep up a regular supply. I was a sucker for earth-friendly guys, and by the end of class, I had almost forgotten that he was no longer mine. When he stopped at the end to take questions, Brittany shot her hand into the air, wafting a fruity dose of Baby Phat perfume my way.
    When she caught Johnny’s attention, she tossed her golden hair over her shoulder and leaned forward, showing the world her front butt as it spilled out of her tank top.
    “Do you prefer to garden with gloves, or without?”
    The class listened anxiously, all eighteen women eager to learn what Johnny wore when he gardened.
    Johnny answered with his characteristic honesty, oblivious to the adulation he was garnering. “I like to feel the dirt on my hands. I garden bare.”
    A soft groan swept through his audience.
    “Any other questions?”
    “Do you give home gardening seminars? Like at someone’s house?”
    This second question came from Heaven, who was tracing a finger around the edges of her pink-glossed lips.
    “Sure. Why don’t you stay after class and I can give you more information.”
    Heaven and Brittany squirmed in their seats at the invite, and that was the end of class. I scooped up my seeds and bolted toward the door.
    “Mira? Can you hang on a second?”
    Johnny was walking toward me as the rest of the class gathered their belongings and broke off into clumps to say their see ya’ laters.
    Johnny gently tugged my elbow and guided me toward the hall, and I couldn’t remember if he’d ever intentionally touched me before. I was acutely aware of my dirty nails and the beat of my heart. Certain that Johnny was going to ask me why in the hell an industrial jazz rocker had serenaded me last night, I looked everywhere but into his face.
    He was silent for a few seconds, then asked quietly, “Is something wrong?”
    I shook my head no and kept studying my sandals, my blue-painted toenails peeking out.
    “You were really quiet in class today.”
    I sighed, resigned, and looked up into his disarming, cobalt-blue eyes, trying to keep my voice light and pleasant. “I’ve got a lot going on. What can I do for you?”
    Just then, Heaven walked into the hall. “Can we talk, Johnny?”
    “Sure,” he said, waving her back into the classroom. “Give me a second.” His hand still gripped my elbow, and it felt warm and strong.
    When Heaven was out of earshot, he turned back to me. “I want to talk to you, but it might take awhile. Are you free tonight?”
    My heart seriously skipped a beat. Was he asking me out on a date? All thoughts of Dolly and self-pity melted away, and with them, my newfound distant-cool attitude around Johnny. “I really like you!”
    Johnny gave me a puzzled look. “You really like me?”
    “No. I mean, I meant to say that I’d really like to … um, do something with you later. If I’m free, you know, but I think I am.” I guess a gal never gets too old to be stupid and easy.
    My sudden wave of uncool still had Johnny thrown. He dropped his hand from my elbow. “Good. Yeah, good. I’ll pick you up at 6:00, and we can go out for supper.”
    I wanted to say something that would linger with him until tonight, but all that came out was, “I love supper!”
    Johnny smiled a strange smile at me and walked back into the classroom.
    Maybe I had misjudged Johnny and Dolly’s hanging out last night. They could have been talking