The big news is that Junior Davis has announced he’s going to the prom. Rack is now great with child; she and Junior are not together anymore. The cheerleaders are all talking about how they would never, ever, under any circumstances go to the prom with Junior Davis, they don’t care how hot he thinks he is. I’m sipping on my beer, sitting halfway out of the open car door, half wondering what it would be like to go to the prom or show up at Fox’s Falls with a guy, your own guy, to belong with somebody like that, to have the terrible space between you and everybody else go away for a minute. One of the last things Bo said to me on the morning I left him was that the minute he heard Bob talk about me on his CB radio, he knew I was someone special. I was just out of Sacramento, you know, he said. Man, I drove fast. I didn’t know who you were, but I didn’t want you to leave before I got there. What did Bob say about me? I asked him. Oh, he said, just that you were a girl going east and you had a friend.

I take another sip of beer. I wish I could be that girl again.

Suddenly, all the cheerleaders shriek and pile out of the car, even the ones in the front seat. I’m left there, alone. A firecracker lands in the car at my feet and goes off.

I hear somebody say, “She didn’t even move.”

I look to my left and see a small crowd all focused on me. Tonight, it’s mostly older guys out drinking, guys that graduated from high school a few years back. I pick Lance Hoffman to focus on. When we were in ninth grade, he was the football hero. He’s got a ponytail now and the beginnings of a beer gut. Junior Davis is with him, along with Lars Madsen and Marty Gerard. The cheerleaders are standing off to the side. Lars tosses another firecracker at me. I hear the fizz of another firecracker and then it goes off. I guess that’s what made the girls get out of the car. After all Grimshaw went through, I don’t think I’m about to freak out over a firecracker. I take the last long swig of beer. When I turn my head, everybody’s still looking at me. I look back at them.

“Having fun?” I ask.

“Ooh … somebody’s not afraid of firecrackers,” Marty Gerard says.

“How about my big stick of dyno-mite?” asks Lars. Nobody says anything after that.

“Hey, who’s got a beer for me?” Junior yells. That breaks the spell, and the party starts up again. After a minute, Junior walks over to the car and gets in next to me on the other side.