“It’s my birthday in thirty-two days,” Junie told her. “I’m inviting you to my party.”

Debbie turned around. “I might be busy.”

“You don’t even know when it is, silly,” Junie told her, giggling.

“Well, maybe I can come. I’ll have to ask my mom.”

“Hey, Marsha,” Junie called across the seat. “I’m inviting you to my party soon.”

“Woo-woo,” said an older girl from in front of them.

“Junie,” Nate whispered, “it’s not cool to yell out stuff like that on the bus. The people who don’t get invited might get their feelings hurt.”

Junie looked puzzled. “But I’m inviting everyone.”

“Well, anyway, it’s just not the kind of thing people do.”

“What people?” she said.

The bus had picked up all the ranch kids and was now making its way back toward town. Just on the outskirts they pulled up to the small, dark frame house where the new girl, Naomi, lived. Everyone knew her parents were some kind of missionaries who didn’t believe kids should do anything fun, just read the Bible all day. Nate remembered the first time she’d gotten on the bus in the fall, how everyone had stared at her as she walked to the back. At the time he hadn’t thought much about it, but now he wished he’d been nicer to her.

“I guess in her church they don’t believe in using a comb and brush,” a kid named Eddie Peterson said as Naomi passed by the rows, carrying two giant book bags stuffed with papers, her hair a frizzy mass. Several kids laughed.

“Put a plug in it, why don’t you?” Naomi said after marching back up the aisle to look Eddie in the eye. Nate had to hand it to that girl. She might be funny-looking, but she was brave.

Eddie made a smirking face, but he didn’t say any more, and the group of girls around him who had laughed— Caroline, Jennifer, and Pauline—suddenly grew silent.

When the bus reached the schoolyard and Larry got up from his seat, Nate called out to him, “Wait up, Lar.” His friend looked back briefly, and for a moment Nate could see the old familiar look, the start of a grin. But then it changed into a mask of uneasiness and something worse— sympathy.

“Gotta go, man,” Larry said. “I’ll catch you later.”

As Junie headed into the long, low elementary building, Nate made his way up the steps to the junior high. He walked down the hall, where on any other day kids would be calling out Hey, Nate and How’s it going? The halls were crowded, as always, but a kind of invisible air pocket seemed to separate him from the throng of others. All around was the sound of laughter and visiting, discussion of last night’s homework and the upcoming baseball tryouts.