The next two days of that week were good, as well. I did my homework, concentrated, and continued to feel hopeful that things would

get better. Kenny and I talked at lunch on Thursday, about what I thought the chances might be of him getting to come over to the house

that weekend.

Even though I was grounded, and fairly freshly grounded, too, I was still optimistic that Crane would be pleased enough about my B plus test grade, and also my new

improved attitude, that he might relent and let Kenny come over. At least for a while, on either Saturday or Sunday.

"I'll talk to Adam," I promised. "And then I'll ask Crane. I can show him the A I got on my psychology test today, too."

"You were doin' okay in that class anyway, though, weren't you?" he asked.

"Yeah. I was," I said, giving him a stern look. "But, every little bit of good news will help soften him up."

"Yeah, I know that's right," Kenny said. "I'm for whatever it takes to get to that."

I had to giggle at his expression. It was the look of a puppy being denied a treat.

I gave him a light push. "You act like we never see each other," I teased him.

"We don't. Not really. Seeing you just at school isn't the same as goin' for a walk to the creek, or-being alone somewhere," Kenny grumbled.

It was fairly uncharacteristic of Kenny to moan about things. It leaned more towards the way he used to be, before he got into all that trouble

last year. Every once in a while, a glimpse of the old Kenny popped into view. Not that I wanted him to grumble, or be unhappy, but in this case, he

was grumbling because he missed being with me. And, that made me feel warm inside.

"Hang on," I said, leaning forward towards him, and lowering my voice. "I think I can get around the guys, and get you reinstated to coming

over to the house."

"I hope," Kenny said, and right then, he looked so cute, and his eyes were so blue, that I kissed him spontaneously.

Kenny kissed me back, and then we broke apart as a disapproving voice said, "I've spoken to the two of you just yesterday about school PDA."

We broke apart to look up from where we were sitting on the grass, to face the scowl of Miss Kline.

Kenny leaped to his feet, pulling me up with him. "Sorry," he said, and this time he sounded sincere. Yesterday, he'd had an onery gleam in his

eye when she reprimanded us...but not today.

Miss Kine was looking so very disapproving, in fact, that I echoed Kenny's apology.

"Yes, sorry," I said.

Miss Kline did not look impressed by our words or apology. "I do not want to have to speak to either of you about this sort of thing again," she said. "Or
I will be sending you both to the principal's office."

Just the thought of Adam's disapproval or Brian's temper at them hearing about something like this, made my stomach knot. They would be of the old-fashioned

belief that school was not the place for kissing. They would blow a gasket, pure and simple. And, Kenny would not be coming over on any near weekend, if that was the case.

That made me respond more respectfully than I might have, otherwise. "Yes, ma'm," I said. "It won't happen again."

"Well," Miss Kline sniffed, "See that it does not."

At that, she turned to walk away, back towards the school building, with students swarming past her on their way inside after their

lunch period.

Kenny gave me a look. "Whoo," he said.

"Yeah." I sighed. "She didn't have to be such a witch about it."

7

It was just after the next hour, when I was leaving psychology class, that Mrs. Wilson, the school secretary, beckoned me to her. Her hands were full

of notes, that she passed out every day, notifying students of changes in plans for after school-pickup, and stuff like that.

"Harlie, Mr. Best would like to speak to you," she said, having to raise her voice a bit to be heard over the noise of kids filling the hallway between

classes.

I wrinkled my forehead, confused. "Now?" I asked. It was time for me to leave to head out to Ivy's to work. This was the time that I left every day.

"Yes, now," Mrs. Wilson said.

Immediately, I thought of Miss Kline. She must have reported Kenny and me, anyway. Good grief.

"What about?" I asked her.

Mrs. Wilson gave me a steady-on look. I knew that it was highly likely that she was aware of what Mr. Best wanted to see me about. Everybody always

jokes that she's the one in charge of the school, not Mr. Best, and that nothing happens that she is not privy to.

For just a moment, a fleeting moment, I thought I saw a glimpse of something like sympathy in her expression. Then, it was gone, and she was

her usual efficient self, responding in her crisp, no-nonsense way.

Instead of answering my question, Mrs. Wilson said, "You go on along now, Harlie." And, then she continued her way down the hallway, passing out notes.

I put away my books that I had, and got the ones I needed for homework that night out of my locker, and then, instead of heading out to my truck to

leave for Ivy's, I went towards the office, dread in every step.

Maybe Mr. Best had already called Adam-or Crane, even. He and Crane went to high school together, and they're still friends-

I stepped into the office and paused. Since Mrs. Wilson wasn't at her desk, I wasn't sure whether to just go knock on Mr. Best's door, or what.

I didn't have to think about it long, though, because Mr. Best pushed his half-open door the rest of the way, standing there in the doorway of

his office.

"Come in, Harlie," he said.

He stood there, and let me walk in front of him into his office. And then, he closed the door behind us, and went to sit down behind his

desk. I was still standing there, clasping my books to my chest.

"You can put your books and things there," Mr. Best told me, gesturing to an extra chair against the wall.

I wondered why I couldn't just hold my stuff, but I put it all where he told me, and then turned to look at him.

"Have a seat," he said, then, and I sat down in the chair across the desk from him.

Mr. Best faced me, and I saw that for sure, whatever he was about to talk to me about, he was as serious as a heart attack. He didn't look

angry, I didn't think. But very serious.

"We have to talk about something today that's not pleasant, Harlie," Mr. Best said.

"Is it about Miss Kline?" I couldn't help asking.

Mr. Best wrinkled his forehead a bit. "Miss Kline? No,it's nothing to do with her. Was there a problem with Miss Kline?"

I shook my head. I wasn't going to say anything more about it. Still-I almost wished that it was Miss Kline's complaint that he wanted to

talk to me about. That would be bad-but, I got the horrible feeling that what was coming could be worse. And-it was.

7