What Love Sees Read Online Free PDF

do, and that’s his lunch time.”
    Jean knew that wasn’t the real reason. It was part of Mother’s plan to help by not helping. “It will be good for you,” Mother had said when high school started, “to talk to different girls while you’re walking.” Easy enough for her to talk to people, even strangers. But she wasn’t asking them for any favors. She didn’t know how embarrassing it was to have to ask every day for the same thing. Even Lucy couldn’t possibly understand. Maybe Icy could, but Icy lived in Litchfield, and for the time being, they had to make their friendship survive on letters alone.
    Each day had its share of problems at school, too. One student from each class was assigned to walk her to her seat in the next classroom. Sometimes the pull on her arm felt grudging and she wondered if the person’s face showed it. By scattered dependencies she stumbled through her first two years. She did poorly in Latin her first year, switched to French her second and still didn’t do well. Her third year she signed up for German.
    Agnes Jennings taught German. She may have been American, she may have been Irish, but one thing was sure. She wasn’t German. The German Jean heard sounded American. Miss Jennings held Jean after class the first day. “In a week or so, after I get to know the class, I’m going to pick someone to tutor you during study hall. You can go into the teacher’s room and have the lesson read to you.”
    “Thank you. I’m sorry to cause a problem.”
    “It’s not a problem. If I pick carefully, I think it will work.”
    Miss Jennings picked Lorraine Dion. Jean felt her cheeks flush hot when Miss Jennings told her. If Lorraine noticed, she didn’t say anything. When Miss Jennings sent them out of the room to study together, Jean felt Lorraine’s elbow touch her hand so she could hold on, instead of the awkward way she’d done it before. She had remembered all this time.
    In their nervousness, they dug into the lesson as a safe relief. When they finished, there was still some of the hour left. “What made you decide to take German?” Lorraine asked.
    Jean groaned. “I’ve already tried French but couldn’t spell it. Those phoney old Frenchmen made up their language just to trap anyone who’s never seen the endings of the words.”
    “Oh, I guess that would be hard.”
    “I could have just as well learned Chinese or even Egyptian with all those funny scratches.”
    “Yeah, at least German is spelled the way it sounds.”
    “I had the same trouble my first year in Latin.”
    “Anybody would with Klimke. He’s a terror.”
    “Some people like him, though.”
    “They’re the ones who are getting A’s.”
    “He sounds so gruff. What’s he look like?”
    “Kind of chunky with a wild mop of white hair. Wears vests. Looks like a grandfather, or a college professor.”
    “Once he passed back a quiz, and I guess I did better than usual. He shouted in his big voice, right next to my desk, ‘For heaven’s sake, Jean. What did you eat for lunch yesterday? You got a ‘B!’ I nearly died. I probably got all red, and I didn’t know whether to smile or scowl.”
    “What’d you do?”
    “Just sort of folded up the paper. He didn’t have to make a joke of it. Then when he handed out the grades at the end of the term, even though I passed, he said, loud, so everybody could hear, ‘It would be better if you felt you didn’t have to take Latin next year.’ You can bet I didn’t.”
    Jean was a little surprised at how comfortable she felt with Lorraine in spite of that awkwardness two years earlier. The voice coming across the table seemed so plain and natural. They worked through the lessons quickly and they both scored high on the tests.
    One day late that fall when they got to the teachers’ room, Lorraine asked, “What’s wrong, Jean? You look upset.”
    Just what she hoped Lorraine wouldn’t ask. She’d tried to hold her head down so no one would see. Her eyes