Junie huddled in a circle of her friends in the far corner. They looked so tender, those thirteen-year-old girls, nearing the starting line of their own open-field sprint from child to woman. Junie’d caught a terrible glimpse of how that run used to be, how it had been for Brenda and Maureen, Beth and me. The people in this room would make sure it was different for Junie’s group, the girls and the boys. No more looking away.
