Page 13 of Rock and a Hard Place

“Bye.” She watched as Peter jogged easily across the field toward the bus, a smile permanently etched on her face.

4

At school the next day, Mr. Hursley, the computer teacher, gave final instructions to the class.

“Be sure to save your work often. The network has been acting up again, and it would be a shame to have the best homecoming flyer ever designed for Rockville High fall victim to a cyber-death.”

He took a cursory lap around the room to make sure everyone was on task. The tap of keyboards in action filled the room. Satisfied, Mr. Hursley eased into his desk chair, adjusted his outdated bifocals, and settled into the sports section.

Libby eyed the people around her. To her right sat Courtney Golding and Allison Smith, two populargirls who believed the world revolved around them. They scooted their chairs close together and chatted. Libby heard them discussing their homecoming dresses and what trendy restaurant their dates would take them to. Homecoming was so far off Libby’s radar.

On her left slouched basketball star Tom West, his incredibly long legs stretched far beneath the table. He peered toward the teacher’s desk, where Mr. Hursley buried himself behind the newspaper. Tom slid in earbuds and began nodding to the beat of unheard music..

With everyone’s attention elsewhere, she hunched closer to the keyboard, clicked on the internet. Most kids spent hours surfing the web. The only time Libby touched a computer was to work on school assignments during class. Aunt Marge would never own something as expensive as a laptop; she lived in the Dark Ages other than her cell phone, which she guarded from Libby. For the first time in many months, Libby was motivated to break the rules a little and play on the web.

Her nerves betrayed her as her hands began to shake. This was silly, everyone did it. Heck, half the students were on their phones during class. She just wanted to know more about Peter, and the informationwas a few keystrokes away.

Last night lying in bed, she’d remembered his last name. She took a deep breath and typed PETER JAMIESON.

Seeing his name on screen brought him to life as if he sat right before her. Her hand hovered over the enter key. Why was she nervous? She’d worked hard not to care about anything anymore, but now she wanted this so badly, her stomach hurt.

She bit her lower lip, reached out with her right index finger, and pressed enter.

104,710,084 items in 0.23 seconds.

Libby’s jaw dropped. A list displayed item after item.

She leaned back in the chair, her hand covering her mouth. Over one hundred million hits! This couldn’t possibly be right. She clicked on images, and there it was, his familiar smile over and over.

It made no sense. Why would the boy on the screen want to be her friend? What would a guy like Peter see in her? Was she going nuts? No, she still remembered the touch of his lips on her hands. This was insane!

She leaned forward, oblivious to the world around her, and began to read the headings.

Peter Jamieson, songwriting genius, strikes gold with new album.

Peter Jamieson visits kids at Tulsa children’s hospital.

Peter Jamieson, lead singer of the band Jamieson, rocks Madison Square Garden.

“Miss Sawyer, that doesn’t look anything like a homecoming flyer.”

She jumped in her seat, knocking her knee against the table leg, then whipped around. Mr. Hursley stood planted behind her, arms crossed. Libby swallowed.

“Are you finished with your work already, or do you need detention to help get you back on track?” Mr. Hursley didn’t mess around.

“No,” she responded, her eyes like a deer’s in the headlights. The heat in her body rose up her neck to her face, turning it a hot pink.Don’t cry.

Basketball boy and the gossip girls watched, entertained to witness her embarrassment, and probably relieved she’d gotten caught messing around instead of them.

Mr. Hursley leaned forward, clicked on the screen, and closed the web page. Peter vanished from sight. The sudden void hit like a punch to her gut.

“Let’s get back on task, shall we?” He arched an eyebrow.

“Yes, sir,” she mumbled, wondering how she could go on with anything now that she knew where to find Peter. Everything about him was so near, only a few keystrokes away.

“I don’t want to contact your parents.” He paused andcorrected himself. “Excuse me, I mean your aunt.” Courtney and Allison stared at her, smirking.

Libby couldn’t risk Aunt Marge getting a call. The last thing she wanted was to deal with Aunt Marge’s hysterics. Libby needed a plan. She had to find a way to spend time on the computers without interruption or threat of detention. Just her and Peter, alone.

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