Recovered Story Item #101 I stared at the girl. There was nothing unusual about her. She was quite tall and had long, straight brown hair descending down to the middle of her back. She was wearing the correct school uniform - blue skirt, white shirt, red blazer, red tie and black tights. She was carrying an Adidas bag. Just a girl. Another person among the two thousand at this huge school. Except for one thing. She had no shoes on. Now if she had been barefooted on a beach, or even in a field, this would have been all right. But she wasn't barefoot - she still had tights on. And she wasn't in a field or on a beach. She was walking across the tarmac of the playground, which was covered with puddles. It must have felt horrible and cold to her feet, but she seemed oblivious and just walked on. "Hey!" I called out. "Where are your shoes?" She turned to look at me. It was then that I saw who it was. She was in my physics class, but since the school year had only just started, I had never spoken to her. She had never been in any of my other classes before - perhaps she was new at school. What was her name? Rachel, that was it. "I was walking along and they fell off," she explained. "They were new and too big. I was about to put them back on again, when some guy grabbed them and threw them up on top of the technology block. I can't get them back." "Never fear," I said, feeling sorry for her. "I'll get them." I put down my school bag on the ground and ran over to the technology block. It was only a one story building and the roof was flat. However, there was no obvious way to get up onto the roof. I paced around the building looking for something to help me climb up. Aha! A drain pipe! I was up on the roof in a flash. All that tree climbing in my childhood days had certainly found itself a purpose. Instantly, I spotted the shoes. I went over to get them, then shinned back down the drainpipe with them. "Thanks," said Rachel as I gave them back to her. "Who was this guy who threw them up there?" I asked. What an idiot! I was thinking. Who'd be so stupid as to throw someone's shoes up on the roof of the technology back and leave them stuck shoeless? "I don't know," Rachel said. "I only got here a few weeks ago so I don't know many people here yet." "Well, what did he look like?" I tried. I was going to tell him what I thought of him. How dare he bully Rachel like that? "He was short," Rachel began. "And he had brown hair. He had a great crowd of friends with him. I think he's in my year. That's all I remember." "Right," I said. Well, that was a lot of help. She could be describing anyone. There were three hundred people in my year, over half of them male, about half of them short, and about two thirds of them with brown hair. I calculated : it could be any one of about sixty five people. "If you find out what his name is, tell me." "Ok," she said. She stepped into her shoes. "Well, I'd better go. Thanks again." And she walked off. I watched her retreating figure. I hoped I got an opportunity to speak to her again. I liked Rachel; I was attracted to her when I first saw her in Physics. But I was too shy to talk to her. Why would a pretty girl like her want to talk to me? Oh well, I'd made definite progress. Now I was her saviour. In fact, that was total progress. If I hadn't fetched her shoes, she would have got trench foot or something (we've just been doing about trench warfare in history), and she would have got a massive telling off from her parents, considering the shoes were new and probably cost over thirty pounds. I suppose someone else might have retrieved them for her, but I was the first to volunteer. The next day I was coming out of school and I saw Rachel standing helplessly by the technology block. She had her shoes on, I was glad to see, but I knew something was wrong from the _expression on her face. I went over and asked her what it was. "I dropped my pencil case and a moron grabbed it and threw it up on the roof," she explained. "I don't suppose you could-" "No trouble," I said leaping up the drain pipe like a monkey. Seconds later, I was back, with the pencil case. "Thanks a lot," Rachel said, taking it. "Was it the same bloke?" I asked. She nodded. "God, I'm going to kill him!" I exclaimed. "Any idea what his name is?" "No," admitted Rachel. "I'll try and find out, but I wouldn't worry. I've got my pencil case back now and that's all that matters." No it wasn't. This was the proof that this minger was going to keep tormenting Rachel. Throwing her shoes up on the roof hadn't been enough for him. He'd thrown her pencil case up there too. He couldn't just be allowed to get away with it. I was determined to find out who it was. "So," I said to Rachel. "What GCSEs are you taking?" We talked for a few minutes, then she said she had to go and catch her bus. As she left, I felt proud of myself. I had done a good deed for her again. And I had spoken to her a bit more. She had seemed happy enough to talk to me. Great. Perhaps I would pluck up the courage to ask her out. But not yet. The next day as I came out of school, I spied Rachel again, standing by the technology block. "What is it this time?" I inquired. "My lunch box," she told me. Without saying any more, I climbed up the drainpipe onto the roof and brought the lunch box down. "Same guy, right?" I asked. "Yeah," she said. "But," she added, with a smile, "I found out what his name was. I heard him and his friends talking. It's Oliver." Oliver...yes, I knew Oliver. He always struck me as an immature prat. Right. I would show him. He'd probably gone home, but I'd find him tomorrow at break. "All right," I said, "well, you just wait and see. Oliver won't bother you any more in the future." She flashed me a grateful smile. She looked beautiful when she smiled. "So, what music do you like?" I asked her. We talked for a while. When four o'clock drew near - the time when her bus would come - I decided to speak up. "Rachel," I began, "do you want to-" I stopped short. How could I possibly say this? Rachel was grateful for me getting her possessions back and she didn't mind having me as a friend. But was she interested in anything more than that? I couldn't tell and I was too nervous to ask. "Do I want to what?" she asked. "Urr - go to the bus stop. The bus'll be here soon." Oh great. Now she probably thought I was trying to get rid of her. "Here, I'll walk with you," I added hastily. "My bus is going to be here soon." She stared at me curiously, then shrugged. We walked off together. I was such a chicken! What had I got to lose? Well, her friendship for one. But she would never go out with me if I didn't ask. Oh well. I would ask her tomorrow, after I'd dealt with Oliver. I would come and tell her what I'd done and then I'd ask her out. I was such a procrastinator. I mean, here she was, and I was going to wait until tomorrow. There he was! It was break the next day and I saw Oliver standing in the yard, not surrounded by his stupid mates for once. I ran over towards him when I noticed something. He was talking to Rachel. "Get your shoes back?" he inquired, chirpily. "Yes," groaned Rachel. "And my pencil case. And my lunch box. Look, I don't have anything with me that you can throw up there today." "And why would I want to do that?" Oliver asked. "I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me." Rachel gasped. "This - this is a joke, right?" "No, I'm serious," he said, with a grin. "Come on Rachel. You know you want to." "No I don't," she said, firmly. Then she relented. "All right then." I couldn't believe my eyes! Oliver - that little twerp - had asked Rachel out! And she'd said yes! The girl was insane! I mean, she had a choice. She could have me - mature me, the one who had retrieved her possessions on three occasions. Or Oliver, that little brat, who had thrown them all up on the roof. I couldn't understand her at all. Needless to say, I didn't speak to her again. I didn't confront Oliver either. What was the point? Rachel didn't want me to; she was going out with him. I guess I learnt my lesson. Putting things off never does any good. You only lose your chance. And the fairy tales are inaccurate. The knight on the white charger doesn't always win the fair lady. Sometimes the evil goblin gets her.