class. As everyone dispersed after lunch, we headed off to the squat brick social sciences building, a short walk across the residential quad.
Entering the cavernous lecture hall, I led the way into the third row. Two vacant seats in the center called to us. I sat down in the first one. Then Danny stepped by me to reach the other. From this vantage point, I would spend the semester gazing into Danny’s potent sapphire eyes.
Though the professor took to the lectern, commanding every student’s attention, I sensed eyes on me. I turned my head to the side. Two girls sitting toward the end of the next row were staring, and I turned away.
This was not what I wanted. Please let it be first-day curiosity. I wanted to engage in class discussion, but the professor was lecturing, affording no opportunities for participation. I needed my classmates to see that I was just another Donnelly student. News flash folks: celebrities’ children have brains.
I turned back again hoping their attention would be on the professor, as it should be. But no! The girls continued staring. And they weren’t even embarrassed at being caught. I followed the trajectory of their pupils. Oh! I blushed. Danny. Of course; I should have expected as much.
After class, Danny led me to a nearby bench bathed in late-summer sun. What a beautiful afternoon for the outdoors, and at a time of the season when such opportunities were fleeting. Fall would be upon Donnelly soon enough.
I curled my legs under my skirt to face Danny. It was wonderful being with him. The comfortable familiarity we’d always shared had returned in an instant. I enjoyed having my “big brother” around.
“Amazing,” Danny said. “I move three thousand miles for college and find my dearest friend in the world.”
“It’s great,” I agreed, then changed the subject. “Danny, I want to keep a low profile. People shouldn’t guess who I am.”
Danny picked up the end of my long, thick braid and twirled it.
“So that’s why this?”
I swatted his hand away. Danny was right. I only braided my hair for sports or the beach. Loose auburn waves were my trademark in a town where everyone did whatever they could to have straight, glossy hair.
“I haven’t even told my roommates. Chloe and Rachel think Dad’s an attorney.”
Danny laughed. “Well, Mike did go to law school.” I frowned. “Eli, I’ve always loved your folks. Are you ashamed of them?”
“Of course not. I just don’t want people saying, ‘There goes Miranda Jordan’s kid.’ It’s already happened.”
I glanced around, my eyes darting in all directions. Sure enough, a student passing by stopped to tie his shoelace and did a double take. In the distance, two girls chatting with each other turned onto the path that would take them past our bench. I frowned.
“And you think being my friend will make people notice you?”
“You do draw attention.”
“So do you.” I scrunched my face, disappointed. Danny continued : “Have you looked in the mirror lately? You look so much like Randi, it’s freaky.”
“No , I don’t. Mom is stunning. I’m not,” I protested. “Our coloring is different too, and I’m not built like her.”
Danny eyed me and smirked. I blushed a deep crimson. “Okay, so your eye color is different, but you’re both always in sunglasses. You have to get very close to notice,” Danny said , and he playfully inched toward me.
Our noses touched , and I gasped. Widening, my eyes jumped to his. Yeah, he’d felt it too, an unmistakable electric current.
Danny abruptly backed up. “ Even a blind person could figure out who your mother is. Except I think your figure is more appealing and you’re prettier than Randi.”
Wide-eyed, I stared at Danny. He couldn’t possibly mean it. “I’m prettier than Mom? Nobody thinks that.” Mom was an actress and a former model.
“I do.” Danny smiled. “You can’t hide from it, Eli.”
I sighed an d dropped the subject,
Carol Gorman and Ron J. Findley