“I know,” Katie agreed. She was a sylphic blue-eyed blonde, soft-looking, sensual in a pink cable-knit sweater—a countenance that belied her athleticism, her starting role as a midfielder on the girls’ varsity team. Her speech was quick. “You look great today.”
“Thanks,” Kim said. “You do, too. My mother says wearing black makes my skin look darker, but I like it.”
“It looks great on you,” Katie said. “You look, like, really exotic. It must drive Jason crazy.”
“He’s…you know…I’m really glad Martina set us up.”
“He’s sweet.”
“Uh-huh. He really is,” Kim said. “Do you know if he talked to Aaron? Martina should be here in—”
“I don’t know. Can you come to the Ice Cream Shoppe tonight?”
“No. My mom hates me hanging around. I can come to your game, though. There they…”
“Oh, good,” Katie s
