Dan had been a leader of men since he’d thrown his first football, and an insecure teenage girl was no match for him. Molly gave a short, jerky wave before her arm dropped back to her side and her cheeks turned crimson.

It was all the encouragement the boys needed. Led by Molly’s locker neighbor, they rushed forward.

“I stand in awe,” Phoebe whispered to Dan.

“It’s about time I got some respect.”

Their leader’s face was red with embarrassment as he came to a stop near Molly. He was tall, all knobby knees and bony elbows, well-scrubbed, well-fed, his long hair clean and shiny. The boys shuffled their feet as if they were stomping out ants. Dan still had his arm draped over Molly’s shoulders, but he deliberately turned his head toward Phoebe, making it difficult for the boys to address him.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” he said.

“Lovely,” she replied, understanding immediately what he was doing. “I hope it doesn’t rain.”

“Weatherman said it was going to be nice all week.”

“You don’t say.” She watched out of the corner of her eye as the long-haired boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his neck. The boys seemed to realize they could only get to Dan through Molly. Their eyes darted back and forth between him and her.

“I’ve seen you at school, haven’t I?” their leader muttered.

“Uh-huh,” Molly replied.

“Yeah, I guess I have the next locker.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

In Phoebe’s opinion, someone with her sister’s astronomical IQ could have come up with a more interesting reply. Where was that handy quote from Dostoyevski when it would do some good?

“My name’s Jeff.”

“I’m Molly.”

While Jeff was introducing the other boys, Dan began pointing out the sights of the Riverwalk to Phoebe. He commented on the trees. The flowers. The ducks. But he never took his arm from around Molly’s shoulders, and the warmth Phoebe had felt for him when she’d opened her front door turned into a soft melting.

The conversation between Molly and the boys was becoming a little less torturous. Phoebe saw the Pom Poms approaching, their mascaraed eyes alive with a wary curiosity.

“Lots of feathers on those critters, aren’t there?” Dan kept his eyes on the river.

“Brown ones,” Phoebe replied, “although the one in the lead seems to have a spot of blue.”

“I believe that’s green.”

“Do you? Yes, I think you’re right.”

Dan’s presence was like a magnet. Several other boys passing along saw who their friends were with and charged through the Pom Poms to approach.

“Hey, Jeff, how’s it going, man?”

“Hi, Mark. Hi, Rob. This is Molly. She’s new this year.”

Dan and Phoebe traded a few more observations on duck plumage, before Dan finally turned his head to acknowledge the boys.