began to walk home, very quickly. A car full of high-school girls screeched around the corner. They were the girls who ran all the clubs and won all the elections in Allison's high-school class: little Lisa Leavitt; Pam McCormick, with her dark ponytail, and Ginger Herbert, who had won the Beauty Revue; Sissy Arnold, who wasn't as pretty as the rest of them but just as popular. Their faces--like movie starlets', universally worshiped in the lower grades--smiled from practically every page of the yearbook. There they were, triumphant, on the yellowed, floodlit turf of the football field--in cheerleader uniform, in majorette spangles, gloved and gowned for homecoming; convulsed with laughter on a carnival ride (Favorites) or tumbling elated in the back of a September haywagon (Sweethearts)--and despite the range of costume, athletic to casual to formal wear, they were like dolls whose smiles and hair-dos never changed.