Perfect Shot (Sweet Valley High Book 55) Page 5

  She stopped walking, and he pulled her to him, both his arms around her now. He was staring straight into her eyes, and Shelley couldn't help thinking, We're exactly the same height.

  Jim seemed to be reading her mind. "We kind of see eye to eye, huh," he teased, leaning forward so their noses bumped.

  Shelley tilted her face up inquisitively, and the next thing she knew his mouth was brushing hers, his kiss soft and tender. They broke apart and stared at each other. Then at the same minute they let go of the shoes they had been carrying and hugged each other hard, then kissed each other with an intensity that neither had ever known.

  "Jim, listen to me," Jeffrey said on Friday morning at school. He picked up one of the photographs that Jim had hung up in the darkroom to dry. "I don't want to keep going on and on about this, but I really think you should enter a photograph in the News contest." He looked more closely at the photo in his hand. "This one," he added, handing it to Jim.

  Jim frowned. "No," he said, putting the photograph down. It was one he'd taken of Shelley the day before at the second playoff game. She was jumping up for a basket, her face partly obscured, her arms and legs long and graceful. It was an amazingly good shot, and he knew it captured what was most striking about Shelley: the ease with which she played the game, combined with her very special athletic beauty. It was probably the best picture he had ever taken.

  He shouldn't have taken it, though. He had promised Shelley he wouldn't. But he had his camera with him, and when he saw her playing such a great game, he couldn't resist snapping a few shots.

  "Look," Jeffrey said matter-of-factly, "if you enter this photograph, you could win. Do you realize how great it would be to get this published? The deadline to enter is noon today. If you win, you get your picture published next Friday." He shook his head. "You could make some money from your photography, Jim. You're really talented. It's a shame to hide it."

  Jim tried to change the subject. "Hey, how come you're so big on getting me to enter this thing? Don't you want to win it yourself? Your work is pretty good, too."

  But Jeffrey wasn't about to be distracted. "Look, if you were an athlete like Shelley, do you think you would just sit on the sidelines? No way. You would be out there playing. It's the same for you with photography."

  "It isn't—" Jim started to protest.

  Jeffrey shrugged his shoulders and said, "It's up to you. I'm not going to force you." And with that he picked up his photographs and put them in his backpack. "Just remember, twelve noon today is the cutoff time. And I happen to think you ought to go for it."

  Jim watched the door swing closed behind Jeffrey. He picked up the photograph of Shelley, and a smile crossed his face. It gave him so much pleasure to look at it. What a beautiful girl she was!

  All of a sudden the desire to see Shelley's picture on the front page of the News next week was so strong, he almost couldn't resist it. Wouldn't it make Shelley realize once and for all that she really was beautiful? That she had a way of moving that the rest of the world admired?

  Seven

  At lunchtime on Friday, Elizabeth and Olivia Davidson, the arts editor of The Oracle, were doing some last-minute work on the following week's edition of the newspaper.

  "Did Jeffrey submit something to the News competition?" Olivia asked, looking over at the box Mr. Collins had set up at one end of the office. Submissions had to be in by noon, just five minutes away.

  Elizabeth nodded. "He was pretty torn. He had a landscape shot, a really beautiful picture he took in Oregon before he moved here, and a more recent photograph of some kids downtown. He finally decided to go with the more recent one, which I think was a good idea."

  "Well, I bet he's got a pretty good chance at winning," Olivia said loyally.

  Just then the door to the office opened, and Jim Roberts stuck his head inside. "Oh—hi," he said shyly. "I didn't think anyone would be in here. I just wanted to drop off a submission for that photography contest."

  Elizabeth was surprised and pleased. She didn't think Jim was going to enter anything. He must have changed his mind at the last minute, she thought.

  Olivia was crossing the room to the copy machine. She stopped when she saw Jim frowning critically at the photograph he had slipped out of a manila envelope. She walked up behind him. "Wow, that's a terrific photograph," she said, staring at the picture.

  Jim's face turned red, and he stuffed the photograph back into the envelope. "Thanks," he mumbled. Without another word he dropped the envelope into the submissions box.

  "He's talented," Olivia said to Elizabeth after Jim had left.

  "I know." Elizabeth was about to fill Olivia in on some of the conversations she and Jeffrey had had with Jim over the past week or two when the telephone rang. It was Roger Collins, asking Elizabeth if she could bring the box of photographs to his office for him. Someone from the News was there to collect them.

  "I'll meet you in the lunchroom," Elizabeth told Olivia. "Mr. Collins wants me to bring these to him right away."

  Olivia nodded. A few minutes later she had slung her backpack over her shoulder and headed down the hall to the lunchroom, deep in thought. She was wondering why Jim had never submitted work to the school paper. As arts editor, she was always excited when she found out one of her classmates was really talented. Why hadn't she known anything about Jim Roberts's skill as a photographer before now?

  Olivia picked up a tray in line, still deep in thought. To her surprise she saw Shelley Novak in line in front of her. She didn't know Shelley very well, but she had been following Shelley's success during the basketball season, and she had developed a tremendous amount of respect for her.

  "Hi," she said, stepping into line behind the tall girl. She smiled as she looked at Shelley's nutritious choice of lunch foods: yogurt, a fruit salad, and iced tea. "No wonder you're so fit, eating like that! Don't you have to eat more just to keep your weight even?"

  Shelley laughed. "I gain weight easily, so I have to be careful during the season not to gain anything. All I need is to have to run with extra pounds on me."

  Olivia shook her head admiringly. "Well, you're obviously doing something right. You probably have no idea how graceful you look on the court. If you could see the photograph I just saw, you'd know what I mean."

  Shelley frowned at Olivia. "Oh? What photograph is that?" she asked.

  "Oh, something someone submitted to the News competition. It's this gorgeous shot of you leaping up to make a basket." Olivia helped herself to a salad. "I'll bet you anything it wins."

  Olivia reached into her shoulder bag for her wallet to pay for lunch. When she looked back up at Shelley, Olivia couldn't help thinking she had offended her somehow.

  Shelley looked absolutely furious. Her eyes were flashing with anger.

  "I didn't say anything wrong, did I?" Olivia asked uneasily.

  Shelley shook her head. "No, Olivia. You didn't say anything wrong. Don't worry, it isn't you I'm mad at." And with that she swept off with her tray, her head held high.

  "Shelley?" Jim called. It was three-thirty, and the last bell of the day had just rung. Jim had been trying to find Shelley between classes all afternoon. He knew she had practice at four, and he wanted to make sure he knew what time to pick her up that evening. They had plans to go out to dinner.

  Shelley didn't turn around, and Jim hurried to catch up with her.

  "Shel!" he called.

  Shelley heard him but tried her hardest to act as if she hadn't. What a jerk, she thought. First he humiliates me by submitting that picture to the contest, then he chases me down the hall, calling out my name. Does he want everything between us to be public, or does he just love embarrassing me like everyone else?

  "Wait up," Jim gasped as he got closer. "Remember, we're not all star athletes. Give a guy a break!"

  They had reached the end of the hallway, where Shelley had to turn to go down to the locker room. She stopped, then took a deep breath to steady herself. "Listen, Jim. I rea
lly don't think you and I have anything to say to each other," she said as coldly as she could.

  Jim stared at her. "What?" he cried. "Shelley, what do you—"

  But Shelley didn't let him finish. "I trusted you," she snapped. "When you made that promise to me, I believed you." Her eyes filled with tears. "I guess I was an idiot, right? I should've known better. I should've guessed you were only spending time with me because—" Her voice broke. "Because you wanted to take my picture for that ridiculous contest."

  Jim looked anguished. "I knew I never should've turned that thing in." he said. "Shel, I'm so sorry. I was the idiot, I admit it. But if you'd just let me explain—"

  "There's nothing to explain," Shelley said, her voice tight with anger. She felt a wave of disappointment wash over her. Up until that minute she had still been hoping that it was all a mistake, that Olivia was wrong, that Jim really hadn't been the one to turn in the photograph. But he'd said it himself—he'd done it. "We had a promise, Jim. You broke it. What else is there for us to say to each other?"

  Jim looked as if he was in agony. "Come on, Shelley. Give me a chance to explain to you what happened. Did it ever occur to you that it wasn't my idea to submit that picture to the contest?"

  "I don't care whose idea it was." Shelley crossed her arms, her eyes flashing. "You're old enough to make up your own mind. You promised me that you'd never take a picture of me again—and that you'd never show it to anyone if you did." She glared at him. "So what do you do? You enter a picture of me in a contest, hoping it'll get published—so the whole world can laugh at me instead of just you and Olivia Davidson!"

  Now Jim was starting to get angry, too. "Shelley, you're being ridiculous. No one is laughing at you. The whole reason—"

  Once again Shelley cut him off. "Don't you dare call me ridiculous! You're the one who's trying to make me look like a fool by taking a picture of me and plastering it all over the papers!"

  Jim shook his head wearily. "Look, we're both being unreasonable," he tried.

  "You broke your promise," she cried, her eyes shining with tears. "I don't care what else you say, Jim. How can I ever trust you again?" And with that she spun on her heel and ran down the hallway toward the locker room.

  She couldn't believe she had really thought Jim was different. Well, she had learned her lesson now. She'd been out of her mind to think Jim really cared about her. Maybe it was just as well she found out now—before it really hurt.

  But the hot tears spilling down her cheeks told her that it was too late: it hurt already.

  "All right," Cathy said with a sigh after practice. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong, or do I have to figure it out by myself? Because I will, you know, sooner or later."

  Shelley was putting an ice pack on her left ankle, which had been swelling up after practice. "I don't want to talk about it," she mumbled.

  "All right, then, I'll have to use my mental telepathy," Cathy said, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them, she gave her friend a sympathetic smile. "Something tells me it's you and Jim. Am I warm?"

  "You're warm. You're more than warm," Shelley said with a groan. "All right, I'll tell you the whole depressing story. But you have to promise not to lecture me for having convinced myself this guy was worth caring about."

  She filled Cathy in on the photography contest, Jim's promise, and the news Olivia had broken to her that day at lunch. Cathy listened avidly.

  "So," Cathy said when Shelley was through, "you're mad because Jim didn't ask your permission first to enter the picture. Right?"

  "I'm not mad," Shelley said. "I'm furious! We had a promise, Cath, and he deliberately broke it."

  Cathy nodded. "I can see why you'd be upset. But it seems to me that maybe you could tell him how you feel and talk it through with him. He seems like such a nice guy."

  Shelley stared at her. "I can't believe this. My own best friend takes his side," she complained. "Don't you realize what an incredible breach of trust this is? I mean, I ask Jim not to take pictures of me, not to show anyone, and he—"

  "OK, OK," Cathy said quickly. "I understand. It's just that I wonder whether you've really given Jim a chance to explain, that's all. Maybe he's got a reason for all this that he hasn't told you about yet."

  Shelley didn't answer for a minute. "I think I gave him a chance. There's no denying the fact that he broke his promise."

  "Fair enough." Cathy shrugged. "But maybe—well, maybe this competition was really important to him. Try to imagine how you'd feel if he asked you not to play basketball. Wouldn't you be upset?"

  "Cathy, that's absurd. It isn't the same thing at all. I never asked him not to take pictures, just not to take pictures of me."

  Cathy nodded. "That's true. Still," she added, "it sounds to me like you may be overreacting a little. Shelley, why does it bug you so much to let him take your picture?"

  Shelley's eyes stung with tears. She couldn't look her friend in the face. "You know why," she said at last. She practically had to choke out the words.

  "No, I don't. I want to understand, though," Cathy urged her friend. "Try to explain it to me."

  A single tear rolled down Shelley's cheek. "Because I'm a freak, that's why! Because I look like a giraffe. Remember the nickname 'towering inferno'? That's how people see me. I can't stand the thought of everyone laughing at me!"

  Cathy shook her head in disbelief. "And you really think Jim wanted to take your picture because he thinks you look like a freak? Shelley, you're out of your mind. You happen to be a beautiful girl. You're tall, but so what? So are half the top fashion models in the world. You're willowy and graceful, and you're incredibly photogenic." Her voice was firm. "My guess is that Jim found you were an exceptional subject, and he was probably torn up about what to do with his picture."

  Shelley pretended to concentrate on the ice pack she was holding against her ankle. "I can see why he'd want to compete in the contest. That makes sense to me. Maybe I didn't understand before how serious photography is to him, because he's sort of minimized it to me. But I can't understand his breaking his promise to me, Cathy. I just can't."

  Her friend shrugged. "Well, only you know how you feel about him. You two haven't been going out for very long. If you don't think he's worth talking this out with, that's your business." Cathy paused and looked at Shelley seriously. "But I think you have a problem with your self-image, Shelley. And that isn't going to go away just by not speaking to Jim. It's something you're going to have to deal with by yourself."

  Shelley didn't answer. She couldn't. She was afraid her voice would betray how upset she was if she said even one word.

  Shelley knew Cathy was right. She had overreacted to Jim's pictures because she was certain there was something wrong with her. Deep down she knew it was irrational, but she couldn't help it.

  Maybe that was why she had been so quick to feel betrayed by Jim, because it was so hard for her to believe any guy could really find her attractive.

  Maybe she had been too hasty about Jim. She had spent her whole life in competition, and she knew how important it was to win something that really mattered.

  She wasn't happy that Jim had used a picture of her against her wishes. But maybe she shouldn't have blown up at him the way she did.

  She bent over her ankle, hiding her face from Cathy. It might not be too late, she told herself. She could still call Jim and tell him that she was sorry.

  Eight

  "Shelley!" Mrs. Novak yelled up the stairs. "The phone's for you!"

  Shelley jumped to her feet. It was eight o'clock Friday evening, and she had been tense ever since she got home from practice, trying to decide whether or not to call Jim. Naturally she assumed their plans to go out to dinner were off. And Jim, she thought, must have assumed the same thing, because by eight o'clock she still hadn't heard from him, and they had agreed to go out at seven-thirty.

  "Hello?" Shelley said nervously into the phone.

  "Hey, Shel. Have you called him ye
t?" Cathy asked.

  Shelley's heart sank. "Oh—it's you," she said, not bothering to hide her disappointment.

  "I guess that means you haven't," Cathy went on. "Shelley, break down and call the poor guy! One of you is going to have to be the one to make up."

  Shelley anxiously twisted the phone cord around one finger. Part of her agreed with her friend. But every time she thought about Jim entering that photograph in the contest, she got angry all over again.

  "All right, I'll call him," she said.

  As soon as Shelley hung up, she dialed Jim's number. She had called Information earlier that evening to get the number, since she'd never called him before, but then she chickened out. This time she had to go through with it. "Is Jim there?" she asked when a girl answered the phone.

  "Yeah, just a minute," the girl said. Shelley guessed it must be his sister.

  "Hello?" Jim said a minute later. His voice sounded funny, and Shelley realized then that they had never even spoken to each other on the phone before.

  "Jim, it's me, Shelley," she said. Then she paused to take a deep breath. There were a lot of things she wanted to say. She wanted to apologize for blowing up and making a scene and not giving him the chance to explain himself. She wanted to let him know how much she liked him and how sorry she was that they had gotten into a big fight. But somehow nothing came out of her mouth. She was completely silent, struggling to find the right words.

  Jim cleared his throat. "I was just about to call you," he said. His voice sounded dull and unnatural. "I want to apologize again for going back on my word. You were right, Shelley, and I was wrong."