They stopped and picked up Ernest, a tubby, pimpled boy who tossed a trombone case in the back of the wagon, and Scott, a tall, California-blond, and altogether shockingly handsome boy who carried no books, only a pair of drumsticks. He bounced into the seat behind Jane and beat an affectionate tattoo on her shoulder. "Hi, Mrs. J. Lovely as always," he said, lifting a portion of her uncombed hair with a drumstick.

Jane half-turned. "I'm more concerned withinternal beauty, Scott. Of which I have loads, I might add. Mike! That truck is stopped!”

The high school was in the opposite direction from the junior high, and the time lapse had given the same trash crew time to get in her way twice in one morning. They'd probably get some kind of award for that, she thought.

“Plenty of room," Mike said, going around it with a fraction of an inch to spare.

“Excellent!" Scott said and beat out a happy rhythm on the window.

Someday I'll have hysterics or wet my pants or something equally embarrassing while riding with him, Jane thought. He'd have a regular license someday instead of a learner's permit, and she wouldn't have to ride with him anymore. He'd still do awful things with the car, but she wouldn't have to ride along and be a terrified witness.

Once the boys were out of the car, Jane was stranded in a snarl caused by a mob of girls surrounding a red Fiat. The high school parking lot made her strangely sad. These boys and girls on the verge of adulthood were all so young and healthy and beautiful. Even the plain ones had a wonderful vitality. But it wasn't their youth that saddened her. She was handling the march of time fairly well. It was their air of "belonging" that she envied. They waved and called to each other and moved in graceful shoals, like happy fish. The boys punched each other's arms in a friendly way; the girls put their heads together, sharing secrets.

Jane had missed all that. A State Department brat, she'd never attended the same school more than a single year, and several times had been only a semester in one place before her father's assignments moved them on. There had been benefits, of course. She'd lived all over Europe and much of the Far East, not to mention both east and west coasts of the United States. But those were the kinds of advantages that only the adults who chose such a life could appreciate. To a naturally shy child, it had been agony.