When we drove down the driveway at home, and pulled into Guthrie's parking spot to park, we could see the guys

everywhere. The hood of the old farm truck was raised, and Brian had his head under the hood. Evan and Crane were stacking hay bales

just inside the barn, and Adam was walking back from the house towards Brian.

Guthrie and I climbed out of his truck, slinging our backpacks over our shoulders. Adam paused beside where Brian was working, and

called out to us, and motioned us to come over.

Guthrie and I exchanged a look.

"We're not that late," I said, worriedly.

"Naw," Guthrie said.

We walked over to where he and Brian were at.

"We stopped off at the Dari Kurl," Guthrie preempted any questions, pointing to the half-full shake that I still held.

Adam nodded. "Alright. How was school?"

"School's the same," Guthrie said.

"It's okay," I said.

"Good," Adam said.

"What's wrong with the truck?" Guthrie asked.

"Needs new spark plugs," Brian said.

"I'll go change my clothes and be back out to help," Guthrie said.

Instead of leaving right then, though, Guthrie and I exchanged another look, which Adam didn't miss.

"What's up?" he asked us.

I gave Guthrie a small nod for him to begin.

"Har says Kristen's got a mark on her face," Guthrie said.

Brian straightened up and he and Adam both looked at me.

"A mark?" Adam asked.

"A hand print," I said, as Crane and Evan joined us, wiping the sweat off their foreheads, and then replacing their ball caps.

"She says you can see the finger prints," Guthrie added.

"Did you talk to her about it?" Adam asked.

"I tried to," I said. "She didn't want to talk, really."

"Hmm," Adam said, sounding serious and concerned.

"She say who did it?" Crane asked me.

I shook my head. "She wouldn't."

There was a sort of quiet pause, and Guthrie sighed. "I'm gonna go get my chore clothes on," he said, and then he ambled off

towards the house.

There was still silence for another moment or so.

"Guthrie doesn't want to go out with Kristen anymore," I said. I wasn't sure why that's what I chose to lead with. I guess it was

bothering me than I'd known.

"What did she say, exactly?" Crane pressed, not responding to my comment about Guthrie.

I thought over Kristen's hurried words in the hallway.

"She said for me to leave it alone," I said. "I told her she could come over here and all-I told her we'd take her home after

school, but she never showed up."

Crane frowned, not understanding, and Adam said, "What do you mean, never showed up?"

"She left school. After lunch. She said she couldn't take it any more," I said.

"Oh, man," Crane said, and I could tell he was worried. I thought again what a good guy he really is.

"She was supposed to come back," I said. "And then I thought Guthrie and I could talk to her some more before we took her

home."

"But she didn't come back, huh," Adam said, and I shook my head.

"No."

Evan had, by this time, gone off back to work in the barn again, and I faced the three of them. I felt sad, and sort of tired, too, like I

wanted to just curl up on the couch and take a nap.

"I guess I could try calling her-see if she's at home," I said.

"You can. Why don't you wait until later, though?" Adam suggested. "Probably by then she'll be home, and maybe she'll feel like

talkin'."

"Okay," I said, without fuss. I didn't really think I had the energy to try and convince Kristen of anything right then.

"You look tired," Crane told me, and I shrugged.

"A little, yeah," I said.

"Make it an early night," Adam said.

"Okay." I hitched my backpack up more securely on my shoulder, and then paused, turning back to them again.

"I got a tardy after lunch," I said. "I was talking to Kristen, and-" I hesitated. "I ended up getting a tardy."

They all looked serious. Well, Adam and Crane did. Brian had put his head back under the truck hood again.

"Alright," Adam said, finally. I wasn't sure what he meant by that, exactly, but at least I'd told him. And he didn't look mad or

anything.

I bobbed my head in answer, and went to the house. I felt suddenly more tired with every step I took. I tried, in my usual haphazard way,

to determine whether it had to do with diabetes or was just a normal reaction to life.

I was heading up the stairs when I met Clare, coming down.

She greeted me cheerily, and then her face zeroed in on me.

"What's up, toots?" she asked me. "You look like you're done in."

"I'm tired," I admitted.

"Let's check your level," she said, all nurse efficiency. We went to do that, and thankfully, everything looked to be alright. Clare

had me eat some wheat crackers and grapes, and then installed me on the living room couch, despite my protests.

"I've got chores. And homework," I told her.

"You have time. Rest a bit. You need to learn to listen to your body, Harlie."

I gave in, mostly because I was too tired to argue with her.

I drifted off to sleep, cozy under the quilt that is usually on the couch. In that state between sleep and awake, I heard the

telephone ring. I heard Hannah's voice, and Isaac's squeals. Then things got quiet again.

When I finally did wake up, I stretched, and, hearing voices from the kitchen, I threw off the quilt and went that way.

It was supper time at the McFadden's, and everybody spoke to me as I came in. Greeting me with questions as to whether I felt

better, and teasing that I was just trying to get out of choring.

I slid into my seat at the table, giving Isaac a quick kiss on the top of his head. "I'll do my chores after I eat," I said.

"I did 'em, already," Guthrie said.

"Really, Guth? You didn't have to," I said.

"Well, you owe me now," he said, and dug his elbow into my side.

"Ha," I said, as Hannah passed me the plate of roast beef and potatoes.

"Clare said you looked pale and tired when you got home," Hannah said to me, quietly.

"I feel better now," I said.

Hannah nodded, and patted my hand. "Marie says hello," she told me. "She says for you to come and see her soon. Both of you," she said,

including Guthrie.

Guthrie nodded, his mouth full of potatoes.

"Maybe I can go by the cafe tomorrow," I said. "I'm going to go see Ivy for a bit."

At her look, I said, "Adam said it was alright."

"You need to go to bed early tonight," she said, instead of talking about Marie any more.

"Progress reports came today," Crane said, from his spot across the table, looking at both Guthrie and I.

"What's the bad word?" Guthrie said, in a joking way, and I thought how nice it would be to be able to joke about grades like that. Guthrie's not

a straight-A student or anything, but he's a good student. He never makes below a C in any of his classes, and mostly B's with some A's thrown

in. I knew he had no real concerns about what was on his progress report.

"No bad words," Crane said, in acknowledgement of Guthrie's joking. "They're on my desk when you want to look at them."

I was glad I was almost done eating by then, because I wasn't hungry any more, suddenly. I sighed, and pushed my plate back, finishing

my milk, and looking at Crane again. He wasn't watching me, though, or anything. He was eating, and talking to Adam.

I didn't even say anything, or ask. I just stood up, and pushed my chair up, and went to take my plate to the sink counter. I set it down,

and then I went on to the living room.

I went to the desk, and sorted thru the stuff. Guthrie and I's progress reports were nearly on top, in an envelope addressed to

Crane McFadden. I took them both out, and unfolded them. Guthrie's was the first one, and I didn't study it or anything, but I caught

that there were an array of B's and A's. I sighed.

I took mine, that was still folded over, and went outside. I didn't want anybody coming in the room and seeing me look at it.

I sat down in the porch swing, and, then, sighing yet again, I unfolded it.

No grade for study hall, of course, and Home Economics I hadn't been in long enough to get a grade, so there was a quick sentence

there that said I was doing well in the class.

Journalism, or the school paper class, well that was never a worry. There was a bright, beautiful A.

Psychology, a B+. That was an improvement from the C that I'd had recently.

Trigonometry, C+. I should be happy about that, I knew. I'd had a D just a couple weeks ago.

Anatomy, the bane of my existence, I'd been one point from an F two weeks ago. A D- was what I'd had, just by the skin of my

teeth. Now, today, on the paper in front of me, there was a D+. A D-plus! I'd gotten that B+ last week on that test in there! How could

I only have a D+?! It should have been brought up to at least a C-!

I crumpled the paper into a ball, and felt tears threatening. I thought better of my paper-mashing, and straightened the paper

back out again, though it was definitely the worse for wear.

There was a scraping at the screen door. I sat up straighter real quick, and turned my face to the right, brushing at my eyes.

I knew who it was even before he spoke up. He stood there for a moment or so, and then said, sort of quietly,

"Alright if I sit with you?"

I nodded, and he sat, stretching his long legs out in front of the swing. I knew he was seeing the state of the paper in my

hand. All wrinkled and crumpled. But he didn't say anything about that.

"Quite an improvement," is what he did say. "Grade came up in every single class."

"Not enough," I said.

"You'll get there," Crane said.

I shook my head, and brushed at my cheek with one hand. A rebel tear or two had escaped.

"I've still got a D, Crane!" I said.

"From nearly an F to a D+ is an improvement, Harlie. A real big improvement."

"I just was hoping-that I would have nothing lower than a C," I said.

"If you keep on like you have been, you'll be there by the end of the week."

I raised my eyes to his face. "You think?"

"I do," he said, with certainty.

I suddenly felt an overwhelming rush of gratefulness to him. He meant it. I could tell. He really did believe in my ability to do well.

"Check with your Anatomy teacher on Friday, and see if he can let you know what you have then. If it's up to a C, then you can

be off your grounding for the weekend," he said.

"Thank you," I said, with feeling.

"You're the one that did the work to get there. You've got a right to feel proud of yourself."

I hesitated, and then said, "I haven't really been proud of myself for a while now."

"I know," Crane said, understanding. "You can get there, though." He patted my knee. "I'm proud of you."

It seemed like forever-forever, since I'd heard that from him. And, I did want him to be. No matter how much I blustered and complained

about how strict he was about grades-sometimes even thinking of him as a hard-ass to myself, I did truly want him to think I was smart.

And capable. I wanted him to be proud of me. It came to me suddenly then, that if Crane wasn't like he was about school stuff, that

I might be lazy and haphazard about my grades. It would be pretty easy to just float by in school, if there wasn't somebody or more than

just one somebody, who was at home, ready to encourage, and insist on me doing my best. I knew what he really wanted, though, was

for me, and Guthrie, too, to be motivated on our own, to do our best because it's what we wanted to do for ourselves, not because

we were forced to.

I was honest enough with myself to know that I wasn't there quite yet.

"I like it when you're proud of me," I admitted, and met his eyes.

Crane gave me a slow smile. It seemed like he understood how I was feeling.

"There's a dance in two weeks at school," I said.

"Another dance, huh?"

I nodded. "And-Lori's having a sleepover this weekend. Her mom said she could have it while her dad's out of town."

"Sounds like fun for you," he said.

"Yeah," I said. "If my Anatomy grade is a C. Right?"

"Right," he said, with another smile.

"Okay," I said. I held out the wrinkly progress report, and he took it from me, still not mentioning that I'd tried to annihilate it. I needed to

get inside and get started on my homework. But, there was something I needed to say to him first. Brian's words from the weekend

were ringing in my ears.

"I'm sorry about my attitude, about my grades and everything," I said, looking out towards the barn. "I haven't been very

nice to you lately about it. I was mad-and upset about the work program and all. I was disrespectful, and-dismissive of you."

That was the word that Brian had used. Dismissive.

"I appreciate your apology," Crane said, quietly, and I swept my eyes back to his.

Shortly after that, we both stood up. Crane said he had paperwork to do, and I said I needed to do homework. We stood there

for a couple of moments, and then I leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around me, hugging me.

I looked up at him. "What do you think I can do for Kristen?"

"I'm not sure," Crane said, looking sad and serious. "We'll all talk about it, and see what we can do."

"Okay," I said.

With my arms still around his waist, I said, "She wanted me to ditch school today with her."

"Hmm," Crane said, in answer, not sounding particularly surprised. "Well, I'm glad that you told her no."

"I felt bad for her, but-I knew I'd be in major trouble if I did."

"You would have been," he said, in agreement.

He hugged me, harder, and then we broke apart, each off to our own work.

7

After I'd finished my homework, and, since the shower was in use already, I decided to try to call Kristen. The phone rang and

rang at her house, with no answer. Then, just when I was going to hang up, a groggy male voice answered. I couldn't tell whether it was Frank, or

Buddy. Whoever it was sounded as though they'd been sleeping. Or drinking.

"Yeah?" they said, instead of 'hello'.

"Could I talk to Kristen?" I asked.

"What'd you say?" the voice said, loudly.

"I want to talk to Kristen!" I said, a whole lot louder. So loud that I got the attention of Adam, and Brian, who were both

reading sections of the local newspaper.

"Not here," the voice said, and the telephone was hung up.

I replaced the telephone receiver, and Adam said, "No luck, huh?"

"Whoever it was said she's not there," I said. "She could be, though, and they just said that."

I went over to sit on the arm of the couch Adam was sitting on.

"They sounded drunk," I said.

Adam shook his head in a sort of 'that's too bad' way.

"I guess I'll see if she's at school tomorrow." I paused. "Is it okay if I call Daniel real quick?"

Since it's a long-distance call, I usually try to ask before I call Daniel or Ford, so there's not unexpected expenses on the

telephone bill.

"He's comin' home this weekend," Adam said.

"I know. Guthrie told me. I just want to talk to him for a few minutes," I said. "I need to say something to him."

Both Brian and Adam looked at me, and I knew that they both were probably on to the fact that I needed to apologize to

Daniel for something. I mean, given my outlook of late, it was the likely option.

"Sure," Adam said.

I looked at the time, and figured that, with the time difference between California and Tennessee, by now Daniel would be

at the club, getting ready for the night's show. I know that number by memory, so I dialed it, and the same girl that always answered

did now.

"Hello?" she said, in her cheery drawl.

"Hi. Is Daniel there?" I asked.

"Hi, there," she said, by now recognizing my voice. I'd just spoken to her the week before. The day I'd hung up on Daniel.

"He is, hon, he's here somewhere. Or he was. I think he might have stepped out. Let me check," she said, and the phone was laid down.

I'd been to the club when I'd been in Tennessee, and I knew where she stood, and in my mind I could see the bar that she'd laid the

receiver down on.

After a couple of minutes, the phone was picked up again, but, instead of Daniel's voice, it was the same cheery girl.

"I guess he's not here after all, hon," she told me. "I'm sorry."

"Do you know when he'll be back?" I asked.

"No. I don't. Can I give him a message? This is Harlie, isn't it?"

"Yes. It's Harlie." I thought for a quick moment. "No message," I said, and then I reconsidered. "Wait-yes. Could you tell him

that I called, and that-" I hesitated. "That I said sorry?"

There was a slight pause on the other end. And then, she said, "Yes. Sure I will. I'll tell him."

"Thanks," I said.

"No problem. You have a good night," she said, and hung up.

I went back over to sit again, on the arm of the couch. Adam laid his paper aside. "Not there, huh?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No."

"Well, he'll be home Saturday," Adam said.

"It'll be good to see him," Brian said.

"Got your homework finished?" Adam asked me.

I nodded. "Uh huh."

Into the little bit of silence next, I said, "Crane says if I get my last low grade up by Friday, I can be off of my grounding this

weekend."

"That's good," Adam said.

"Lori's having a sleepover at her house Saturday night. Can I go?"

"If you get that grade up, then yeah, I imagine that you can," Adam said.

"Okay," I said. I looked at both of them, and then said, "I'm worried about Kristen."

"I know," Adam said.

"You just be careful," Brian spoke up, and I looked to him, wondering.

"About what?"

"That you don't feel so bad for her that you start makin' decisions that you shouldn't," Brian said.

I felt my face get a little warm. I knew what he meant. He was referring to the fact that Kristen had cut school today. I'd told Crane that

Kristen had wanted me to join her, but I hadn't said that to Brian. Or to Adam.

"I won't," I said, meeting his eyes. I could have told him that it was the thought of him that had caused me to refuse Kristen and stay

at school.

Brian gave a brief nod in answer.

"Watch the tardies, too," Adam said. "That's two in the last couple of weeks, isn't it?"

I knew he knew very well that it was. It was one of those rhetorical questions that adults ask sometimes.

"Yes. Two," I said.

"Three and then it's an after-school detention, right?" he said.

I nodded, and he said, "Alright. Well, no more then."

"Okay," I said, and stood up. "I'm going up to shower and get ready for bed," I said.

"Sleep good," Adam said.

"You, too," I said. "Night, Bri."

"Good night, peach," Brian said.

I took my shower, and got into my softest pajamas. Even though I'd taken that nap earlier, I was asleep just after I laid down.

7