HERE IS MARYA Knauer, valedictorian of the class, Marya in her red-checked cotton dress with the low back, showing her long smooth tanned back and shoulders, her tanned arms. Marya drinking beer out of a can like the boys, throwing her head back to laugh helplessly at one of Lester Hughey’s crude jokes; feeling with spiteful satisfaction the heavy warm weight of her hair down her back. The boys are crowding around her, she’s really quite popular despite the fact that she’s going away and they’re staying (at least for the time being, they explain: eventually they’ll all follow Clarence into the army, or Lee Knauer into the navy, or, if they’re men enough, they’ll try for the marines like Emmett Schroeder), despite the fact that they’ve always been a little wary of her razorish wit. Marya is leaving for Port Oriskany in the morning, Kyle is going to drive her to the Greyhound bus station, they’re joking about maybe Marya won’t have to go home at all . . . just go directly from the lake to the bus station. . . .

Aren’t her friends going to miss her! Marya thinks. Oh yes aren’t they!

She is watching Emmett and the blond girl (she’s a beautician in Yewville, only early twenties but already divorced), watching them walk away, Emmett’s hand lightly resting at the nape of her neck, the two of them talking (about what?), leaving the party without saying goodbye to Marya, but that isn’t important—Marya thinks: It isn’t important at all, we’ve already said goodbye.

Hell, says Marya under her breath, turning brightly away, it isn’t important.

Afterward, she won’t remember clearly all that happened.