"Are you sure you’ll be all right by yourself?" the blonde girl asked worriedly. "If you’re not, I can come back later—"

"Of course I’ll be all right!" Megan scoffed. "I’m not incapacitated, just ugly! I’m feeling a lot better. And I can get myself something to nibble on, now that my mouth’s better."

Vanessa gave her a long, reproving look. "You aren’t ugly. You’re not quite as pretty as usual, but you’re not ugly."

Megan sighed gloomily. "You know I’m not going to agree with you, so don’t bother trying to convince me, Van." She looked about her, suddenly seeking something. "Do you know what happened to my book bag? The EMT’s gave me my purse, but – what about my books?"

Vanessa frowned in thought. "I don’t recall seeing it. I’ll bet it got left in your car, honey. You should be able to get it back from wherever they towed your car."

"This is late Saturday afternoon, and the body shop’s closed! And it won’t be open tomorrow. Oh, great! I have homework, and no books!" Megan’s voice was tense with frustration. "What am I going to do?"

"Call someone who’s in your classes," was Vanessa’s sage advice, and with a fond hug, she departed for home.

Left alone, Megan decided to take Vanessa’s advice. She consulted her student directory, glad that it had been at home, and not in her bag. She didn’t know too many people in her classes as yet, school had been in session less than two weeks.

Think, girl…who’s that guy who was across the aisle from you in Music Appreciation? He’s in your American government class too, and those are classes that you had assignments in.…Kirk Somebody. Or was it Luke? No, it’s Kirk. Kirk…Monroe…Monahan…Moncrief. That’s it, Moncrief. If you can use his books, and borrow Frank’s history text, you won’t get too far behind…. Hopefully, she leafed through the directory, looking for the name. There it was!

She dialed the number, waiting through several rings before it was picked up, envisioning Kirk Moncrief. Short, stocky, scraggly brown hair and blue eyes. Poor complexion, and he looks like he’s attempting to grow a beard to hide it. Totally unprepossessing and forgettable – Frank Hardy he’s not! she thought, with an inward smile, mentally comparing Kirk with Frank’s dark, lean good looks. Kirk looked quite innocuous, but she had found he possessed a biting wit, often making undertone, caustic comments in class. He’d seemed friendly enough, to her, but then people were usually friendly to Megan.

"Hello?" The voice was male, and slightly familiar, with the sardonic overtones she recognized.

"Kirk? This is Megan Wright, from your Music Appreciation and American Government classes…"

Megan went on to explain her difficulty, and to her relief, Kirk seemed perfectly willing to share his textbooks for the weekend.

"I’m not positive," Megan admitted, gingerly touching her face as she spoke. "It sort of depends on how I look – uh, feel – by that time. But I’ll get your books back to you Sunday night, just in case."

Kirk got her address, and promised to deliver the books within the hour, then hung up. Megan ruefully surveyed herself in a mirror. I look like a bad joke. Well, at least my teeth are back to normal…. She wished she didn’t have to let anyone else see her, even Kirk Moncrief, but at this point she had no choice. It wasn’t like I could ask him to leave the books on the doorstep, after all….

As promised, Kirk arrived shortly and rang the doorbell. Megan admitted him, trying to smile, hoping he wouldn’t be too horrified by her appearance. "Hi, Kirk; thanks a lot. I really appreciate this."

"Like I said, no problem." He surveyed her candidly. "Wow, you did kinda do a number on your face, didn’t you? You doing okay? You said your car was wrecked?"

"Yes, totaled. I’m pretty much okay – sorry for the horror show," she apologized.

He grinned, mockingly. "Even at your worst, Ms. Wright, you still look good. Unlike some of us." He paused a moment. "I guess there were quite a few car accidents yesterday. I heard of a couple, anyway."

"Were there?" Megan was mildly interested, shared misery being better than solitary.

"Who hit you, do you know?" Kirk asked, curiously.

Megan flushed. "I don’t know. Isn’t that ridiculous? But I was knocked out for a little bit, and pretty upset – and although I suppose the guy left his name, and license number and all that, with the police, I never actually talked to him. I saw the car – it was big – full-size, I mean – and brown….They took me off in the ambulance right away, and I didn’t feel like asking, afterwards. I didn’t care who hit me, I just wished he hadn’t! I know my mom knows, though – she’s talked to the insurance company. But she won’t be home until tomorrow. And quite frankly, as long as the insurance comes through, I don’t care who it was."

"Oh, yeah – I see your point. Well, I’m really sorry you got hit, anyway." Suddenly seeming flustered, Kirk turned to the door, his color high. "I gotta go – I’ll swing back over and pick up the books tomorrow night, if you want."

"Okay. If I’m not going to be at school on Monday, I’ll call you," she replied. "Otherwise, I can just give you the books there. I’ll call by – oh, say four o’clock tomorrow."

"Sounds good – later!" Kirk took his departure, nearly scuttling down the porch steps to his car. Megan closed the door behind him, and took the borrowed textbooks into the family room to do her work.

She was just finishing when the telephone rang.

"Hello?" She smiled in anticipation, having a good idea who the caller might be.

"Hi, Frank. Pretty good – I’ve been doing homework, can you believe it? I had to borrow the books from someone; mine are still in my car. Which reminds me – can I borrow your history text, please? Right away?"

"Sure. I did the assignment last night, after you made me go home. But I thought you were supposed to rest," Frank chided.

"Reading isn’t strenuous," she said, giggling a little. "Neither is writing answers to questions. It’s not like I’m playing tennis, or something!"

Frank’s spirits rose when he heard that giggle; she sounded almost like her old self. "Can I come over and see you now?" he coaxed.

She hesitated. "I…I don’t know." Her hand went instinctively to her face.

"Please, Baby – we can turn the lights off if you want, but just talking to you on the phone isn’t good enough." Frank made his tone as persuasive as possible. "I need to see you!" He paused a moment, then continued with his wheedling. "Hold you…kiss you…tell you in person that you’re beautiful and I love you….And besides, you want my book," he finished triumphantly.

A coaxing Frank was someone Megan found it hard to say no to. "Wellllllll…okay. For a little while," she gave reluctant consent.

"Yeeessss! Be there in 15 minutes!" The receiver went down with a bang, and Megan was left listening to a dial tone and wondering if she’d made a serious mistake in allowing this visit. Deciding to make the best of it, she repaired to the bathroom to see what she could accomplish with concealer makeup.

Well, I’ve done the best I could. She’d managed to replace the gauze patch on her forehead with a large Band-Aid. She’d attempted to work the adhesive tape off her nose, but desisted; that was way too painful, and she’d had to admit it probably was not a good idea anyway! Megan glared balefully in the mirror at the fat little blob which her ordinarily attractive nose had become. Her eyes were continuing to darken with bruises, but she’d been lavish in her use of concealer around them, and she’d applied mascara heavily in hopes of directing attention to her eyelashes, instead. She’d flicked powdered blush onto her pale cheeks; and although she hadn’t been able to do anything about her cut lips, at least she had intact front teeth now. Still, she was extremely apprehensive over this upcoming meeting. What if – after all – he takes one look and it’s Adios, senorita!

When the doorbell rang, Megan had to force herself to walk to the door, and she shivered as she opened it. She’d purposely left the hall lights off, so the entry was deep in shadows, despite the soft light from the not-yet-set sun.

"Hey, kitten." As if he sensed her reluctance to admit him, Frank’s greeting was subdued. "How’s my girl?" He stepped over the threshold, reaching for her hand.

"Ah – okay, I guess." She kept her face tilted towards the floor, unwilling to give him a clear look at her features. "Did you bring the history book?"

"Yes, here." Frank extricated a book from where he’d cradled it in the crook of his cast, and set it on the hall table, then pulled her close with his good arm, his embrace exceedingly tender. "Oh baby," he murmured, "do you have any idea how much I’ve worried about you today?" He brushed a light kiss on her hair.

"No," she whispered, and nestled her head against his shoulder, turning her face away from him. He was being very careful, she noted, to not stare directly at her. Trying to be tactful… she thought sadly. Or he doesn’t want to look because he knows it’s so awful….

"Lots and lots and lots," he informed her, making her laugh at the simplistic reply. "Come on and sit down – or better yet, lie down." Frank propelled her through the darkened hallway, in the direction of the family room. "You’re supposed to be resting, remember?"

"I’ve been resting – all day, practically!" she protested, but allowed him to guide her anyway. When they reached the family room, however, she halted, shivering again. There was too much light streaming in through the windows for her comfort.

"Frank, I – maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe you should go on home. The way I look—"

"Nope, it was a perfectly good idea, and we’re going to get this over with." Frank’s mellow voice was suddenly firm. "Let’s see the worst, Baby. I promise I won’t run screaming out of the house!" Inexorably, he steered her to a seat on the couch and sat beside her. She hunched over, covering her face with her hands. Very gently, he touched her hair, stroking it lightly. "Look at me, Megan. Please."

Please, oh please, oh please please please…please don’t despise me….. Slowly, she sat up and turned towards him, closing her eyes as she had done with Joe. Seconds ticked by. Megan held her breath, waiting, rigid with tension.

"Megan Wright, in my eyes, you’re still the most beautiful girl in the world," Frank said softly, at last. "And I’m crazy about you – and I think I want to beat up the guy responsible for making you hurt like this, even if it was an accident!" he finished, his tone hardening. Very tenderly, he brushed the edge of his thumb across her cheekbone. "Now can you relax, please?"

"No, I don’t think so," she said, her eyes still closed, but there were traces of amusement in her voice now, as well as tension. "I’ve been obsessing about it for 24 hours now, and I can’t just stop."

Frank snorted with laughter, and then cuddled her against him with his good arm. "Try anyway," he said soothingly. "Listen, baby – you can wear dark glasses to hide the raccoon eyes," he told her, with the assurance of one who’d survived numerous assaults and injuries. "Oh…maybe you can’t," he retracted, frowning. "It would hurt your nose….Well, maybe they won’t turn too black….The swelling should be mostly gone in another 24 hours, so your nose will be back to normal – in size, anyway," he chuckled. "Your tooth’s okay now, and mouth cuts heal fast. That just leaves that nasty ol’ gash on your forehead—" he paused to plant a light kiss next to the Band-Aid. "and it hardly shows at all, if you keep your bangs brushed down. The only parts that will take awhile to go away are the bruises and the whiplash – and that doesn’t even show! But I know how much it hurts," he added sympathetically.

She sighed. What seemed to Frank inconsequential sounded to her insurmountable. "I guess so," she murmured drearily.

"I know so….Okay, I didn’t come over here to lecture, I came over to keep you company and cheer you up!" Sensing her despondent mood, Frank immediately sought to divert her. "So what do you want to do? Watch TV? DVD movies? Play Monopoly?" He elevated one eyebrow meaningfully. "Make out?"

"Frank!" Megan turned scarlet, but couldn’t stifle her giggles at that remark.

"It was just a suggestion," he defended, delighted that he’d managed to make her laugh. But…

"Can’t—" she said wistfully. "My lips are too sore."

He grinned wickedly. "I can find other places to kiss than your lips."

"All those places hurt too," she grumbled. "And…uh – I hate to admit it, but I still kind of have a headache…and it hurts to turn my head. Even kissing you sounds too…too hard. I’m sorry…." There was no mistaking the misery and apology in those turquoise eyes.

Frank stopped laughing, and gently kissed her cheek. "I didn’t expect you to recover miraculously overnight, baby. I know you’re hurting, and you’ll be hurting for a while yet. So let me try to make it better – and then let’s opt for watching TV."

They had watched television or videos scores of times from that couch, or the sofa in the Hardys’ family room; usually with Frank’s head in Megan’s lap. This evening he insisted that she lie with her head on a pillow in his lap. Too dejected to argue, his girlfriend meekly took the aspirins Frank advised, and they made themselves comfortable.

"This is nice," she admitted, after a few minutes. "But I’m afraid I might fall asleep. Some hot date, huh?"

Frank just smiled. He didn’t care if she fell asleep – in fact, holding her while she slept sounded like a very pleasant way to spend the evening. He reached for the remote controls and turned on the TV set.

*****

"Baby?"

"’m not asleep…not quite." Megan didn’t open her eyes.

"I was just going to ask about the homework. You didn’t actually bring your books home, after the accident?"

"No." Megan smiled and blinked her eyes open drowsily. "I wasn’t that smart – or rather, I wasn’t thinking that straight. If I had been, I wouldn’t have needed you to bring your history text over here. They got left in my car. I told you – I borrowed books from Kirk Moncrief."

Frank felt a very unusual sensation pierce him: a stab of jealousy. Kirk Moncrief? Who’s Kirk Moncrief? She’s never mentioned any guys…. "Who’s that?"

"Guy in my American Government and Music Apprec. classes. He brought his books over." Her eyes drifted closed again.

"Oh." She didn’t have any problem letting him see her, but me, on the other hand…. "That was nice of him."

Something in Frank’s voice caught Megan’s attention, for she suddenly opened her eyes fully and stared up into his face. "Frank Hardy, whatever you’re thinking, stop it!"

He reddened. "Was it that obvious?"

"I borrowed books from the guy, you moron! And if you saw Kirk Moncrief, you’d know you didn’t have anything to worry about!" she sputtered, half-laughing and half-indignant. She wriggled to a sitting position. "Besides, I’m not exactly date bait at the moment, remember? If you’d like to hear his reaction to seeing me, it was something on the order of ‘wow, you sure did a number on your face!’" She chose not to include Kirk’s comment that even at her worst, she still looked good.

Frank laughed, and hugged her gently, feeling relieved. "Baby, you’re still date bait." He patted the pillow in his lap. "Now lie down again; you’re supposed to be resting."

"Just for a little while longer; you need to go home," she reminded him. "I don’t need babysitting overnight again, you know. And my mom’s going to be home tomorrow morning."

Frank sighed. He didn’t want to go home. Now that Megan had relented in her stand against letting him view her battered face, he hated to leave her alone. "You sure you’ll be all right by yourself?"