Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [85]
Up to this point, Michal had remained detached because she was singularly focused on completing her education. And ultimately, upon reaching her final goal: returning to the mission field in Ethiopia. What else are these years about? she’d asked herself, grilling her suitemates with that very question. They’d given her blank looks in response, proceeding to argue that making friends, competing in sports, and learning about life and love were equally important pursuits. Michal’s caveat was that none of those sounded especially spiritual. Anything that distracted from her goal, in Michal’s opinion, was a waste of time. More importantly, the time God held her accountable for.
Michal also failed to notice that before Allistair approached her, another young man—a nervous one with a dark green ski cap pulled so low it covered his ears and nearly his eyes—was about to call out to her and had just raised a spindly arm to attract her attention. When Stephen Jones noticed Allistair in such close proximity to Michal, however, he jerked the arm down to his side. Hunching his shoulders—which pulled his entire body into a posture resembling a huge comma—he scurried away.
The retreating Stephen Jones was the ultimate antithesis of Allistair. A lowly sophomore, shy and reticent and skinny, studious and therefore given to holing up in the library (hunched over a desk in yet another comma posture), studying for hours. Earning the straight As he’d received on every test and paper in every class—he was a most aggravating fellow student who elicited a disgusted “There goes the grading curve” from others whenever he walked into class on the first day.
Stephen had delayed joining any ministries in order to establish good study habits, was not confident about his athletic abilities, not on any sports teams, and generally—except for the grading curve consequences—not noticed. It was as though he were invisible, not actually taking up space in his environs. Even Stephen’s roommate knew very little about him except that he was exceptionally smart.
Besides his propensity for earning top grades, Stephen had three other notably positive traits. However, for whatever reason, he appeared to consciously hide these attractive qualities. One was his height, for he was tall enough to be center on the basketball team, should he seek the position. But Stephen’s slouch was such that few noticed he towered nearly a foot above them.
And then there was the dark green ski cap—the pilly, stretched-out, dirty dark green ski cap. Though Stephen didn’t wear it to bed, he kept it right next to his pillow; after the alarm went off, he reached for the ratty cap, which he immediately jerked back onto his head. Some speculated he wore it even in the shower, but the cap’s filthiness seemed to negate that rumor. The fact was that underneath grew luxurious, wavy blond hair; when exposed to the sun, his hair glistened with golden highlights.
Lastly, very few at McMaster’s had ever glimpsed what could be considered Stephen’s greatest asset: his dimples. Deep ones most women fervently wished they possessed themselves. These also were rarely revealed since Stephen simply didn’t find many reasons to smile. Had he done so, a number of women would’ve been intent upon enticing that smile to show itself more often.
If Stephen had added a personable nature to his intelligence, height, hair, and dimpled smile, he could have been a viable competitor to Allistair. But by embracing the labels of reclusive, nerdy, shy, and nearly mute, he rendered that nearly impossible. Still, a serious observer of people would have to arrive at this conclusion concerning Stephen: He was a diamond in the rough.
Stephen had finally gathered the courage to attempt a conversation with one he’d admired for her serious attitude about learning. Out of all the women on campus, Michal alone stood out as worthy of his time. But the moment Allistair stepped in front of him and claimed Michal’s attention, Stephen fled. In his panic, he plowed into an upperclassman