After Prof disgorges half his passengers on the way out of town, we start climbing the highway into the country, past the dead farms and the double-wides. We pass the new church where my family worships. Well, except for me: I put a condom in the offering plate once, so they thought it would be better if I didn’t go anymore. The farther we get from town, the smaller and shabbier the houses get. Eventually, we pass a driveway that you wouldn’t notice if you didn’t know it was there. It’s the junkyard where Grimshaw lives. Her brothers make money by dragging old cars in there, fixing some, and selling parts out of the rest. The house used to be part of a dairy farm. There was a big barn there, and an old farmhouse, too, covered with graffiti and filled with broken glass, and as you drove by, you could look through the empty windows at the pastures growing over with thistles. Grimshaw never gets off the bus there. She is embarrassed that she lives in a junkyard.

“The blackberries are blooming now,” I remark as we pass by. She’s listening to Prof’s story of the time he saw Marvin Gaye play Cleveland, and how good he looked in his white suit.

“He sang real history, too,” he is saying. “Not just entertainment. He was the real thing.” As we pass by her house, I catch a glimpse of something in the rearview mirror. Is that that same gold Corvette again? I turn around and watch it slow down and signal to turn in her driveway.

“Some guy in a gold Corvette’s about to go down your driveway.”

“So?”

“I saw it down in town across from the school before we got on the bus.”

“A ’Vette?” Prof asks. “I used to have one of those. Went like the devil, used to get me in trouble.” He laughs.

“Do you know him, then,” I demand, “that guy?”

Grimshaw looks at me and smiles. “Why, do you like him?”

“No, I’m just wondering who it is.”

“He’s too old for you. Leave him alone.”

“That’s not why I was asking.”

“We’ll find somebody for you,” she says. “Don’t worry.”

“That’s not why I was asking,” I repeat. I go back behind my book.

“You listen to your friend, now,” Prof says to me. “She’s trying to take care of you. She’s looking out for you.”

“Who do you think would be good for Serena?” Grimshaw asks.

“When the heart is ready, the love will come,” he says.

“Is that really how it works?” she asks. “I guess my heart’s never been ready.”

“There’s no rush,” says Prof. “No rush at all. That’s what the rest of your life is for.”