I don’t know why I remembered this (actually, because I’m working on the book), but the first day of school, I was dropped off at the entrance in a crazy red sports car because my neighbor at my new house was a popular girl and her mother insisted she drop us both of us. Patrick Marquez, a fifth grade contemporary, lost his mind when I came out of the car. “Tina Lee!” he said, “In a red camaro!” (Or whatever it was. Cars are not my forte.) The girl had perfectly feathered hair, perfect makeup — things I kind of thought were a waste of time (but now that I work in corporate america, I realize, that stuff actually really counts). She was probably not a bad person, horrified her mother had her paired off with a socially-less desirable 7th grader. My rides to school did not last much longer after the first day, but I was happier for it. I didn’t really like how public those drop-offs were and what I remember from high school is a 30-minute walk where I’d meet my best friend at her house and we’d laugh the whole way to school. Those times were great.