Help Sessions by Larry Hammersley Page B

Hall and literature class, Roy stopped to stuff his shirt tail in before entering the p-chem lecture hall. The rows of seats ascended much more steeply than the Von Ritz Theater back home. Greta and Heather sat in the front row, just inside the door. The buzz of voices indicated Doctor Hunter hadn’t arrived yet.
    “Hi, Greta, Heather,” Roy said, as he walked past them.
    Greta returned the greeting, with an attractive smile that displayed her cherry lips and perfect teeth. Heather mumbled but also made brief eye contact, offering no smile. Roy bounded up the steps to his usual aisle seat on the fourth row, next to Willie. Doctor Hunter entered, and the lecture hall occupants stopped talking as if a switch had been turned off. The professor’s short-sleeved white shirt and brown khaki pants had no wrinkles, in contrast to his leather-skinned face. His wavy white hair didn’t have a stray filament. Everyone corrected their posture as the professor warned of the next day’s test and then launched into the chapter on liquids. Roy took notes feverishly as the professor chalked the green slate board with various formulas and diagrams.
    During the lecture, Roy glanced down at Greta, who smiled once when she caught him, but his gaze kept centering on Heather. Now why am I looking at the one who initially put me down? Surprisingly, she looked at him once, and even held her eyes on him without trying to cover the fact that she was making eye contact. It didn’t escape him that she was also beautiful despite the absence of a smile. Her hair reminded him of one of the styles worn by the actresses in movies of the 1920s. The red hair, shiny, smooth, and straight, curling inward just below her ears, swayed forward when she took notes. Her bangs, trimmed perfectly straight, rested on her forehead just above her dark eyebrows. She positioned her fully-flared lavender skirt, after crossing her legs, so that it covered her knees. Roy eyed her white blouse, so neat and free of wrinkles. Stunning, thought Roy. Although she didn’t possess a bosom like Greta’s, Heather’s features appealed to him. He shook his head, not understanding why he would dwell on her, especially when she was so reluctant to concede that maybe he knew chemistry after all.
    The bell rang, and Roy realized he’d missed several crucial formulas. As other students prepared to leave, he quickly recorded the last of the formulas, hoping he could figure them out later. He glanced up to see that Heather had left but Greta was motioning him to come down. As he reached her, she seemed quite pleased about something.
    “If you’re free tonight, you can study with us,” Greta said. Roy wasn’t sure her smile was for being able to see him again or just being glad he could get some help.
    “Are you sure Heather doesn’t mind?” Roy asked, finding it incredible that Heather had changed her mind.
    “She told me I could ask you.”
    “Really? Why did she have a change of heart?” Curiosity caused Roy to tingle all over. He tried not to think of a reason. It befuddled him, nonetheless.
    “Well, you have to understand Heather. The only way to know her feelings is watching her actions and catching the very subtle indications in what she says. Hey, why is that important to you?” Greta asked, her suspicions of Roy’s interest obvious in the upward curve of her mouth.
    “To tell you the truth, I don’t know,” Roy said honestly, trying to formulate an answer to Greta’s pointed question and at the same time feeling something stir in his heart.
    ****
    Why call the second semester the spring semester? Early February certainly didn’t qualify for spring, Roy thought as he headed for the Union Building, now a block away. The biting wind chilled him, so he adjusted his scarf to protect his neck. He’d been made fun of for wearing white earmuffs, but they were warmer than any he’d ever had. He curled his fingers up into his gloves to keep them a little less frozen