It was a study in itself, she decided. From dangling shoelaces and gap-toothed smiles to cowlicks and ball jackets to baggy jeans and shining falls of hair.

Children had never been a part of her life, or her interests. She’d grown up in a world of adults and had been expected to acclimate, to conform. There had been no big yellow school buses, no wild rebel yells when bursting out of the school doors into freedom, no lingering in the parking lot with some leather-jacketed bad boy.

So she observed all those things here like an audience at a play and found the mix of drama and comedy both amusing and informative.

When Seth hurried out, bumping bodies with the dark-haired boy she’d decided was his most usual companion, her pulse quickened. He whipped his ball cap out of his pocket and put it on his head the moment he was through the doors. A ritual, she thought, symbolizing the change of rules. The other boy fished in his pocket and pulled out a fistful of bubblegum. In seconds it was wadded into his mouth.

The noise level rose, making it impossible for her to hear their conversation, but it appeared to be animated and included a great deal of elbow jabbing and shoulder punching.

Typical male affection pattern, she concluded.

They turned their backs on the buses and began to walk down the sidewalk. Moments later, a smaller boy raced up to them. He bounced, Sybill noted, and seemed to have a great deal to say for himself.

She waited a moment longer, then casually took a path that would intersect with theirs.

“Shit, man, that geography test was nothing. A bozo could’ve aced it.” Seth shrugged to distribute the weight of his backpack.

The other boy blew an impressive candy-pink bubble, popped it, then sucked it in. “I don’t know what’s the big damn deal about knowing all the states and capitals. It’s not like I’m going to live in North Dakota.”

“Seth, hello.”

Sybill watched him stop, adjust his train of thought, and focus on her. “Oh, yeah, hi.”

“I guess school’s done for the day. You heading home?”

“The boatyard.” There was that little dance on the nape of his neck again. It irritated him. “We got work.”

“I’m going that way myself.” She tried a smile on the other boys. “Hi, I’m Sybill.”

“I’m Danny,” the other boy told her. “That’s Will.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“We had vegetable soup for lunch,” Will informed everyone grandly. “And Lisa Harbough threw up all over. And Mr. Jim had to clean it up, and her mom came to get her, and we couldn’t write our vocabulary words.” He danced around Sybill as he relayed the information, then shot her an amazingly innocent, wonderfully bright smile that she was helpless to resist.

“I hope Lisa’s feeling better soon.”

“Once when I threw up I got to stay home and watch TV all day. Me and Danny live over there on Heron Lane. Where do you live?”