"What was all that about, anyway?"

"Oh… Joanne was looking to pick a fight again. "

Mrs. Lesser raised an eyebrow at Nita, and Nita smiled back at her shamefacedly. She didn't miss much.

"Well, I might have helped her a little. "

"I guess it's hard, " Mrs. Lesser said. "I doubt I could be nice all the time, myself, if I had that lot on my back. That the only one you want today, or should I just have the nonfiction section boxed and sent over to your house?"

"No, this is enough, " Nita said. "If my father sees too many books he'll just make me bring them back. "

Mrs. Lesser sighed. "Reading one book is like eating one potato chip, " she said. "So you'll be tack Monday. There's more where that came from. I'll check it out for you. "

Nita felt in her pockets hurriedly. "Oh, crud. Mrs. L., I don't have my card. " "So you'll bring it back Monday, " she said, handing her back the book as they reached the landing, "and I'll stamp it then. I trust you. "

"Thanks, " Nita said. "Don't mention it. Be careful going home, " Mrs. Lesser said, "and have a nice read. "

"I will. " Nita went out and stood on the doorstep, looking around in the deeping gloom. Dinnertime was getting close, and the wind was getting cold, with a smell of rain to it. The book in her hand seemed to prickle a little, as if it were impatient to be read. She started jogging toward home, taking a circuitous route — up Washington from Rose Avenue, then through town along Nassau Road and down East Clinton, a path meant to confound pursuit. She didn't expect that they would be waiting for her only a block away from her house, where there were no alternate routes to take. And when they were through with her, the six of them, one of Nita's eyes was blackened and the knee Joanne had so carfully stomped on felt swollen with liquid fire. Nita just lay there for a long while, on the spot where they left her, behind the O'Donnells' hedge; the O'Donnells were out of town.