Pathways - Jeri Taylor [79]
The snap of a twig on the ground interrupted her reverie and she stood quickly, alert. Sometimes others brought hovercraft to the island, but they usually stayed on the beaches, never venturing so far inland. Who would be disturbing her special place now?
She heard the rustling in the brush of what seemed like several people, and heard murmuring voices. She waited, senses heightened but unafraid, until they moved into the clearing.
Two boys from her class, James Chesney and Robin Beckett, stood before her. When they were much younger, the two had teased her unmercifully, but no more so than any of the others. It was just something young boys did. As they had grown older, the two had at least treated her neutrally, which was fine with B’Elanna. James had even once helped her work out a difficult physics problem, for which she had always been grateful.
Now, they seemed unaccountably nervous. James had short blond hair and a smattering of freckles; they seemed etched on a face which was strangely pale. Robin was a redhead, cheerful and sturdy, but today he hung back, clenching and unclenching his hands.
“Hello, B’Elanna,” said James, and his voice sounded faltering, almost cracking. She stared at him in bewilderment.
“Hello,” she answered casually. “What brings you two here?”
“We were out on the hovercraft and saw you beach your boat. Just thought we’d say hello.”
“Well, you’ve done that,” she said, curious as to where this conversation was going.
There was an uneasy silence. Robin contented himself with gazing around the clearing, as though it were an object of fascination. James shrugged and smiled. “I have some orange juice in my pack. Are you thirsty?”
“Thanks.”
James extracted three containers of juice from his pack and handed one to B’Elanna. It was cold, and sweet, and she was grateful for his thoughtfulness. “Want to sit down?”
“Sure,” he replied, and Robin hurried to join them. “How did you do on that term paper Wheezer assigned us?” James queried. Wheezer was a teacher in their school, a man who had the habit of breathing through his mouth, thereby emitting a hoarse, wheezing sound. He had been referred to as Wheezer during his entire three-decade tenure at the Nessik school.
“I’m working on it. I’m just not very interested in Bolian literature. Too frivolous.”
“I kind of enjoy it. It’s funny.”
“Some of the writers try to be funny, but it’s like they’re working too hard at it.” She was beginning to realize there was probably no purpose to this visit, just a happenstance encounter among schoolmates.
“Did you read the story about the farmer’s wife who kept sneaking out in the middle of the night?”
“I thought it was stupid.” The story had been a trivial accounting, a fairy tale actually, about an amorous wife who was dissatisfied with her husband and who sought the friendship of a supernatural being, a woodsprite. It was fanciful but silly, with a heavy-handed moral about faithless wives. B’Elanna had found it nothing short of moronic.
“Really?” said James, as though this topic were of intense importance. “Didn’t you identify with the wife?”
“What?” B’Elanna retorted in disbelief. James looked vaguely confused at this response, and ran his tongue over dry lips.
“Well, I mean . . . she was so passionate. And frustrated. Her husband just wasn’t satisfying her.”
She stared at him, not sure who was more confused now. “James,” she asked pointedly, “what are you saying?”
He flushed, and his freckles temporarily seemed to disappear. He wet his lips again but his eyes danced off her, avoiding her. When he spoke, his voice was cracking again, uncertain. “Aren’t Klingons . . . I mean, we heard . . . well, they’re very passionate.”
Robin suddenly stood, embarrassment apparent in his expression and his posture. “I’m going back to the hovercraft,” he said over his shoulder as he barreled out of the clearing. B’Elanna resisted the temptation to giggle. It was so obvious now what was going on, and she felt an infusion of power,