He Loves Me Not by Caroline B. Cooney

want…
    But I didn’t know what I wanted.
    If I had been able to sort that out, I probably wouldn’t be faced with this sort of thing. I wanted everything. Settling for pieces of my dreams hurt. I kept a smile glued to my face and threaded through the camellias. Where, in a brilliantly lit shopping mall, was I going to find a corner of darkness? I had to sit down somewhere and pull myself together.
    “…personally prefer Blood of China,” said a blue-haired old lady.
    “…has a nice bouquet, though,” said her antique companion.
    “…horrible racket is over. I detest loud music.”
    “…head aches from listening to that girl slam around on that dreadful instrument.”
    Somehow I got off the egg, but my smile was not going to last much longer. If only Lizzie or Ralph were along! They knew how to shrug off anything. You have to be tough in this business, Ralph had said over and over.
    Who wanted to be tough?
    I managed to find a fat pillar to lean on, and the spotlights did create a pool of dark behind it, but my clothing was so gaudy I had no hope of really being hidden. Oh, for a bedroom with a door that closed so I could sob for a few minutes before going back on the stage!
    I didn’t have enough self-control to keep the tears back.
    I reminded myself fiercely that I’d ruin my makeup, I’d look terrible, I’d make a display of myself…but it didn’t help.
    Just as my face crumpled into tears, a flash camera went off in front of me.

11
    “A LISON!” SAID TED. “WHAT’S the matter? That’s not the photograph I expected to get. You were wonderful up there. What on earth is wrong?”
    I had been right about him. He was a comforting person. His crinkly features crinkled some more as he put an arm around me, and then I had my dark corner—between the pillar and Ted’s chest.
    Nobody there but me and Ted’s camera.
    I laughed through my tears.
    “What’s wrong?” he said again, gently.
    “I’m not sure, Ted. I guess I’m just tired. Letting small things get to me.” I shrugged. I couldn’t explain it. Maybe if we’d had hours ahead of us I could have worked into it. But I had only ten minutes and then I’d have to play some more.
    “I was taking photos of the winning camellias,” he said, “and you looked so smashing I wanted to get you, too. What happened? That funny old dude who wanted the march upset you?”
    “No. It was the people who were annoyed by the music. Who wanted me to shut up.”
    Ted was incensed. “Somebody told you to shut up?” he demanded. He looked around, as if surveying the crowd for the sort of worthless clod who would tell a musician to shut up.
    “No, no. I was just reading between the lines. Some people I knew walked away during the piece. I think my playing bored them. It…well, it hurt my feelings.” I tried to laugh it off. “Silly, huh? You’d think I’d have the hide of a rhinoceros by now.”
    “No,” said Ted, running a finger across my cheek. “I wouldn’t think that at all.”
    We stood there, together, and a whole new set of feelings and wishes rumbled through me, like clothes in a dryer, rushing and flapping and falling and tumbling. His finger brushed my skin only for a moment, and I wanted him to do it all afternoon.
    At the same instant we sort of stepped back, half-embarrassed, pretending nothing had happened.
    “It’s just that sometimes you think you’re doing fine,” I told him, “and you find out you’ve ruined it all.”
    Ted leaned back against the pillar and smiled at me. I thought, who needs Mike MacBride’s eyebrows? I’ll take a smile like this.
    “Once I had a chance to cover a big fire,” he said. “You might remember it. The one at the furniture warehouse down on Fifth Street that was started by arson about a year ago?”
    I remembered it. They had been afraid the whole block would go. I wished Ted would hold me instead of talk to me.
    “That was before I had my driver’s license and nobody in my family was home