“So we often ran across each other in the empty halls. Cabot also went to the Academy, but she was one year behind.Anyway, one Friday, “Hi, sis,” I said.“Hi, Zuzu.”Nothing to write home about. We both walked on. But a moment later, the girl who had been sitting ahead of me in Assembly since we were four-year-olds in preschool came up behind me at my locker. “Boyce?” she said, very softly, as if being careful not to make me shy like a horse would if you came up too quick from behind.I still shied... anyway. I knew who it was, and I whirled around. “Yes, Mary Parker?”There were several reasons to fear this girl. She was brilliant, and her father was a bus driver. She was the smartest, the poorest, and probably the coolest girl in school. Actually, she was too cool for school. Except she didn’t get credit for it, because her father was this bus driver.“Oh,” she said, “nothing.”“Oh,” I said, “okay. Cool.”She was going to go now. Then her famous curiosity got the better of her.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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