JJ’s
reach.
“AN EVERLASTING—” she bellowed, as she ducked
around a couch and then hopped up on a table as if it were a
stage.
JJ stood before her, panting like a rabid
dog. She reached over and tugged on Queenie’s pant leg.
Queenie stared down at her. “Excuse me. I’m
in the middle of a performance here. Do you mind?”
“Give it back,” JJ pleaded.
“Autographs will be available afterwards in
the lobby, thank you.” Queenie shook her leg free of JJ’s grip.
Then she put one foot graciously in front of the other and regained
her stance. Her free hand reached high into the air as she angled
her face to the make-believe crowd. “An everlasting debate for all
of time,” she roared. “Do I follow my heart? Or do I fol—? Or do I
follow my mind? Is that what you were going to write?”
“Yes,” JJ whispered miserably.
“Do I follow my heart! Or do I follow my
mind!” yelled Queenie. When she finished the last word, she bowed
her head to an imaginary array of applause.
“Are you through embarrassing me?”
“I think so,” said Queenie, tossing the
journal to JJ. She hopped off the table and straightened her
shirt.
“You know,” JJ gritted her teeth. “Sometimes
words fail to describe the distaste I have for you.”
“Please. You’re a poet.” Queenie patted her
confidently on the back. “I’m sure you could think of a few.”
“What do you want?”
“I was bored, so I came looking for you. You
weren’t in the library so this was my next best guess.”
“You are a true detective.”
Queenie pointed to the journal, “Was that
little poem there about the homecoming queen?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Well, maybe a little bit. But it’s a more
general pondering than anything else.”
“You’re really conflicted, aren’t you?”
JJ gave Queenie the harshest look she could
muster.
“And you don’t really want to talk about it
either?”
“No, I don’t,” said JJ as she walked over to
the chair she’d been sitting in and picked up her book bag from the
floor. “Don’t you have homework to do or something?”
“Finished it,” Queenie said proudly.
“You amaze me.”
Queenie was one of those annoyingly gifted
people who hardly ever studied yet seemed to retain information
almost instantly after reading something only once. JJ believed
that Queenie might have a photographic memory or something. And
despised her for it.
“You up for an adventure?”
“Depends. Is this so-called adventure going
to get me into trouble?”
Queenie pressed her palm to her chest
innocently. “I resent that.”
“Spare me the theatrics. What did you have in
mind?”
“A certain woman sent me a text about an hour
ago asking me to meet her at a certain club at a certain time. I
told her I’d be there with a certain friend of mine.”
“Does this certain woman happen to be the
twenty-something college student who looks to you for a little
excitement in an otherwise dull existence?”
Queenie grinned widely.
“You know,” JJ flung her backpack over her
shoulders, “for someone who is constantly giving me advice on my
love life, you really aren’t doing too well in that particular area
yourself.”
“Me? I do all right.”
“You date women who aren’t interested in
relationships.”
“And the problem is?”
“The problem is that you deserve better than
that,” JJ said plainly.
“I’m not looking for better right now,”
Queenie said, as they walked out of the school lounge and onto the
fading green lawn that led directly to their dormitory. “I’m in the
prime of my life and I’m not into that hopeless romantic stuff like
you are.”
“You’re into empty relationships instead?
Sounds so appealing.”
“It is, actually, when you compare it with
your current dilemma.”
“My dilemma?”
“Yes. The hopeless romantic never wins, my
friend. Take, for example, your current situation. You’re into
someone you can’t have, and you are in so much turmoil
reach.
“AN EVERLASTING—” she bellowed, as she ducked
around a couch and then hopped up on a table as if it were a
stage.
JJ stood before her, panting like a rabid
dog. She reached over and tugged on Queenie’s pant leg.
Queenie stared down at her. “Excuse me. I’m
in the middle of a performance here. Do you mind?”
“Give it back,” JJ pleaded.
“Autographs will be available afterwards in
the lobby, thank you.” Queenie shook her leg free of JJ’s grip.
Then she put one foot graciously in front of the other and regained
her stance. Her free hand reached high into the air as she angled
her face to the make-believe crowd. “An everlasting debate for all
of time,” she roared. “Do I follow my heart? Or do I fol—? Or do I
follow my mind? Is that what you were going to write?”
“Yes,” JJ whispered miserably.
“Do I follow my heart! Or do I follow my
mind!” yelled Queenie. When she finished the last word, she bowed
her head to an imaginary array of applause.
“Are you through embarrassing me?”
“I think so,” said Queenie, tossing the
journal to JJ. She hopped off the table and straightened her
shirt.
“You know,” JJ gritted her teeth. “Sometimes
words fail to describe the distaste I have for you.”
“Please. You’re a poet.” Queenie patted her
confidently on the back. “I’m sure you could think of a few.”
“What do you want?”
“I was bored, so I came looking for you. You
weren’t in the library so this was my next best guess.”
“You are a true detective.”
Queenie pointed to the journal, “Was that
little poem there about the homecoming queen?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Well, maybe a little bit. But it’s a more
general pondering than anything else.”
“You’re really conflicted, aren’t you?”
JJ gave Queenie the harshest look she could
muster.
“And you don’t really want to talk about it
either?”
“No, I don’t,” said JJ as she walked over to
the chair she’d been sitting in and picked up her book bag from the
floor. “Don’t you have homework to do or something?”
“Finished it,” Queenie said proudly.
“You amaze me.”
Queenie was one of those annoyingly gifted
people who hardly ever studied yet seemed to retain information
almost instantly after reading something only once. JJ believed
that Queenie might have a photographic memory or something. And
despised her for it.
“You up for an adventure?”
“Depends. Is this so-called adventure going
to get me into trouble?”
Queenie pressed her palm to her chest
innocently. “I resent that.”
“Spare me the theatrics. What did you have in
mind?”
“A certain woman sent me a text about an hour
ago asking me to meet her at a certain club at a certain time. I
told her I’d be there with a certain friend of mine.”
“Does this certain woman happen to be the
twenty-something college student who looks to you for a little
excitement in an otherwise dull existence?”
Queenie grinned widely.
“You know,” JJ flung her backpack over her
shoulders, “for someone who is constantly giving me advice on my
love life, you really aren’t doing too well in that particular area
yourself.”
“Me? I do all right.”
“You date women who aren’t interested in
relationships.”
“And the problem is?”
“The problem is that you deserve better than
that,” JJ said plainly.
“I’m not looking for better right now,”
Queenie said, as they walked out of the school lounge and onto the
fading green lawn that led directly to their dormitory. “I’m in the
prime of my life and I’m not into that hopeless romantic stuff like
you are.”
“You’re into empty relationships instead?
Sounds so appealing.”
“It is, actually, when you compare it with
your current dilemma.”
“My dilemma?”
“Yes. The hopeless romantic never wins, my
friend. Take, for example, your current situation. You’re into
someone you can’t have, and you are in so much turmoil
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