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kids at school made fun of her, because she was overly tall in their opinion and because of her poor grades. But as he stole a glance at her face, which was in sweet repose, he thought, She’s a good kid. I’ve got to look out for her more than I have in the past. Maybe I can find her one of the guys to be her steady. I’ll talk to Tim Netherwood. He’s a nice guy and hasn’t been much for girls. I’ll talk to Tim, he promised himself.
    Prue came out of her deep sleep and for a moment could not remember where she was. Suddenly she became aware that her head was on a shoulder and she was clutching a sweater that covered a warm, living body; then it all came back and she sat up blushing, thankful for the darkness so Mark could not see her face. “I’m–I’m sorry. I must have dropped off to sleep.”
    Mark’s arm was around her shoulder, and he squeezed her. Her hair smelled sweet, and there was something touching in her confused protest. “You sure did drop off. For about an hour and a half,” he said. “We’re almost home.”
    Prue was intensely aware of Mark’s arm around her and did not know whether to pull away or let it remain. Finally he moved it and flexed it, saying, “My arm’s asleep. You sure did get a good nap.”
    Soon they pulled up in front of the Deforge house. There was a light on in the living room, and Mark said, “I’d better go in and make my excuse. It’s a little later than I thought.”
    â€œWhat time is it?”
    â€œAfter two. Come along.”
    The two of them got out of the car, walked up the porch, and entered the house, but they were greeted with silence. “I guess they’ve gone to bed,” Prue said. They were standing inside the hallway with a full view to the living room; she turned, and her eyes were bright, refreshed by her sleep. “It was such a good trip, Mark,” she said quietly. “Thank you so much for taking me.”
    Mark started to say “Good night,” but as she stood before him, there was a vulnerability in her and a sweetness that touched him. “It was fun for me too,” he said. He was standing very close to her, and he reached out and ran his hand over her hair. “I think it’s one of the best nights I’ve ever had. You’re fun to be with, Prue.” Her perfume was very faint, but he caught the scent of it. He was accustomed to leaning over and peering down at Debbie from his great height, but Prue’s face was not far below his own, and she was looking up at him, her dark eyes unreadable. Without meaning to, he reached forward, pulled her close, and kissed her on the lips, then released her. “Good night, Prue,” he said huskily, then turned and left.
    Prudence had been kissed before, but this kiss was somehow different. She touched her lips with her fingers and stood silently for a moment, listening as the car started up and pulled out of the driveway; then she turned and walked up the stairs. When she entered her room, she moved to retrieve her diary, brought it back, and sat down at the desk. Her lips still seemed to tingle from Mark’s caress, and she wrote one item in a hand that was not quite steady:
    Mark kissed me!

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A R OUGH P ARTY
    B e still now, Elvis!”
    The fledgling bird stirred frantically in Prue’s hands as she tried to calm him down. She had found the baby mockingbird with an injured wing, apparently just out of the nest, and had nursed him back to health. Now as he fluttered wildly she saw that the wing was strong, and she waited until he calmed down. She had named him Elvis, hoping that she could keep him and that he would sing for her, but as with so many of the wild things she captured, she could not bear to keep the bird cooped up. She was standing now outside the barn and with a swift movement tossed the bird up in the air. She watched as his wings beat almost frantically; then as