There was a pause, then another beep. "Hi, it's Sally," Jenny heard. "How'd you like the hunt? Kind of wet, huh? Or did Mr. H. keep you dry?" Laughter. "Anyway, I feel terrible. I hope you didn't drown or anything. We never get rain like that here. Anyway, since there wasn't a cookout, I'm trying to get everybody together tomorrow. You know the diner in town? That's where. But I'll talk to you before then. I'D call you back. Or you call me when you get home. Bye. Wait." More laughter. "You need my number. It's 555-0071. Bye again."

Jenny smiled. Some people got tongue-tied talking to a machine, but Sally obviously wasn't one of them. She had a feehng Sally was never at a loss for words.

Another pause, another beep. Another voice. A boy's this time.

"YouVe going to think Fm crazy, Jenny," it said. "And I guess I am. Crazy about you, that is. Don't laugh. This isn't a joke. You're really incredible. Maybe someday I'll be able to tell you face to face. Until then, I'll just keep my eye on you. And believe me, that's one spectacular view. Bye, Jenny. For now."

As Jenny had listened, she'd slowly straightened up until she was leaning over the telephone, her finger ready to punch the save button so she wouldn't lose the message.

Who was it? Did any of the boys she'd met yesterday really have such a soft, silky voice? Or was he just putting it on? Was it a joke, in spite of what he'd said?

The tape stopped, and she set it going again, listening impatiently through McPherson and Sally. Then she curled up in the chair and waited, determined to catch any false note, like a muffled laugh or something, anything that would give the voice away and tell her it was a crank call.

But all she heard the second time around was the same soft message, spoken in that smooth, quiet voice with just a hint of shyness in it. That shy quality made it even more appealing.

Jenny listened to it a third time, then saved the whole tape and went back into the kitchen to think about it while she finished the drumstick.

It wasn't a crank call, she decided. He knew her name for one thing. For another, they weren't even listed yet, so he had to have asked information, not

just picked a number out of the book. And it couldn't be a prank, a joke on the new girl in town. That was the kind of thing twelve-year-olds did. And that caller was no twelve-year-old.

Jenny smiled to herself. So someone was going to keep an eye on her, was he? It was silly, but it was flattering, too. How often did she get a message like that, after all? Never, that's how often. She'd gone on her share of dates, but for the most part they'd been extremely boring or else they'd turned into wresthng matches in the front seat of the car. And nobody'd ever said he was crazy about her.