faded quickly when she saw Lila make her play for him, and she was writing about her feelings.
"Hey, got some time for an old war-horse?" he asked, tapping her lightly on the arm. "Some race, huh?"
Olivia looked up. "Congratulations," she said politely. Closing her notebook, she rose, lifted her long skirt, and retreated back toward the campus.
Roger knew that Olivia wasn't much of a sports fan, but he expected more thanks from his good friend. Shaking his head, both at her behavior and at his own hopeless predicament, he walked toward the locker room.
Six
As the day went on, Roger grew more accustomed to his role as Sweet Valley sports hero. He would miss all the fuss when he was back to his normal routine. After he'd showered and gotten back into the same clothes he had worn during the race, he grabbed his books from his gym locker and headed for his American history class. But before he could get past the administration offices, he was stopped by Sweet Valley's principal, Mr. Cooper.
"We're mighty proud of you, Roger," Mr. Cooper said excitedly, throwing his arm around the startled boy. It had been a long time since Roger had seen the man known around school as Chrome Dome, and he had forgotten how accurate the nickname really was. Mr. Cooper's scalp shone like a car fender. The rumor was that he oiled his bald head, but it had never been proven. "Come with me, boy," Mr. Cooper
continued, leading Roger into the administration office suite.
Smiling modestly, Roger- took a seat on Mr. Cooper's plush green couch. Right in the middle of the principal's wooden desk was the microphone from which he made his daily announcements about school activities, rules, and anything else that came to his mind. "I'm going to be late for class," Roger said.
"No need to worry about that, Roger. I just had to call you in here to congratulate you. Why, do you know how fast you ran?" the principal asked, resting himself on the edge of his desk.
"No, sir," Roger admitted.
"My boy, you set a school record: four minutes, five point five seconds."
"Really?" Roger was astonished. Although he knew he was fast, he'd never timed himself and had had no idea he was capable of running that quickly.
"Coach Schultz told me2 we haven't had anyone as fast as you since some fella back in fifty-six. Of course I wasn't here at the time, so I've got to take the coach's word for it. But believe me, Roger, I liked what I saw out there." He paused, then frowned slightly. "Weren't you wearing those clothes outt on the field?"
"Yes, sir," Roger said with shame. "It's all I have."
Mr. Cooper leaned over his desk to his intercom.
"Rosemary," he spoke into it. "Bring me one of those sweat suits, please--in a large." Looking back at Roger, he said, "Don't you worry, my boy, we'll have you out of those things in no time."
"Really, Mr. Cooper, you don't have to--" Roger began.
"Of course I don't. It's my pleasure," Mr. Cooper said. "I don't have to tell you how important the Bart is. Big press coverage. And no one from Sweet Valley has won in years. You're our only hope, Roger. We're counting on you."
"I don't know "
"Where's your confidence, my boy? The coach tells me you didn't even practice for the race. With a little help and work, you could break four minutes at the Bart. Nobody from any of the other schools runs like that. Why, hardly anyone in the country does. Do you know what I'm talking about?"
Roger knew only too well. The Bart could be the first rung of a ladder that could lead to the state track finals, NCAAs, the AAUs--perhaps even the Olympics. Could. Perhaps for a boy like Bruce Patman, who had the time and money to devote to nurturing his talent. Not someone like Roger, who had to retire from racing even before he got started. What good was talent when you couldn't develop it?
Before Roger could tell Mr. Cooper that he
wouldn't be able to run, Rosemary entered the office with an official Sweet Valley High warm-up suit. Roger's