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March 17, 2007
The adjacent parking lot was thunderous with motor ignitions as seniors revved their cars and peeled out, a Friday’s rebellion roar. A few minivans revolved through the bus corral, stopping briefly to pick up one of a waiting passel of kids standing by a bank of mailboxes. Abby felt alone. She couldn’t explain what her dad did and why her parents were divorced. The busses compounded the heat. Her bus was puttering hotly among fifteen other buses. Abby walked through the maze of idling motors. The bus drivers were aiming rotating fans at their faces with the AC full blast.