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"Thanks for giving me the lessons," murmured Logan, looking dazed and terribly exhausted. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going into the school and wash up. If I went home looking like this, my mom would faint." He smiled my way. "Heaven, hang around, will you, until I'm back?"

"Sure." I stared at all his bruises, and his black eye. "Thanks for defending my honor . . ."

"Why, he defended all our honors, dummy!" shrieked Fanny. Then, so help me, she ran to throw her arms about Logan and kissed him squarely on his swollen, bleeding lips.

I should have

done that.

Logan walked off toward the school as Tom grabbed Fanny's arm, called Our Jane and Keith, and all of them headed for our trail. All alone in the schoolyard I waited for Logan to come out of the boys' rest room.

On the swing Our Jane had used I shoved myself higher and higher, hanging back and dangling so my hair would fan and almost sweep the ground. I hadn't felt so happy since before Granny died. I closed my eyes and flew ever higher on the swing.

"Hey . . . you up there in the sky, come on down so I can walk you home before dark, and we can talk."

Logan looked somewhat cleaner, somewhat less damaged, as I dragged my feet and brought the swing to a stop. "You're not really hurt, are you?" I asked with concern.

"No, not really hurt." His one eye peered at me. "Do you really care if I am?"

"Of course I care."

"Why?"

"Well . . . I don't know why, except, well, you did call me your girl. Am I your girl, Logan?"

"If I said so, then you must be. Unless you have some objections."

I was up now, and he had my hand, gently urging me toward the mountain trail that spiraled steeply up, up, up.

Winnerrow had only one main street, and all the others branched off from that. Even placed in the middle of town, the school backed up to the mountain range. There wasn't any way the town could escape the surrounding Willies. "You haven't answered," urged Logan when we'd strolled on for fifteen minutes without speaking, only holding hands and glancing often at one another.

"Where'd you go last weekend?"

"My parents wanted to see the college where I'll be going. I wanted to call and tell you, but you have no telephone, and I didn't have time to walk to your place."

There it was again. His parents didn't want him to see me, or he could have found time. I turned and put my arms about his waist and pressed my forehead against his dirty torn shirt. "I'm thrilled to be your girl, but I've got to warn you now, I don't intend to get married until I've had the chance to live and grow on my own, and to become somebody. I want my name to mean something after I'm dead."

"Looking for immortality?" he teased, holding me closer and bowing his face into my hair.

"Something like that. You see, Logan, a psychiatrist came to our class one day and he said there are three kinds of people. One, those who serve others. Two, those who give to the world by

producing those who serve others. Three, the last kind, those who can't be satisfied unless they achieve on their own, not by serving others but by their own merits and talents, producing, arid not through their children, either. I'm the third kind. There's a niche in this world meant for me and what innate talents I have . . . and I won't find it if I marry young."

He cleared his throat. "Heaven, aren't you getting way ahead of this situation? I'm not asking you to be my wife, just my girl."

I drew sharply away. "Then you don't really want to marry me someday?"

His hand spread helplessly. "Heaven, can we predict the future and who we'll want when we're twenty, twenty-five, or thirty? Take what I offer now, and let the future take care of itself."

"What are you offering now?" I asked suspiciously.

"Just me, my friendship. Just me, and the nowand-then right to kiss you, hold your hand, touch your hair, and take you to the movies, and listen to your dreams because you listen to mine, and be silly once in a while, build a past we'll enjoy remembering-- that's all." That was enough.

Hand in hand we continued to stroll, and it was sweet to reach the cabin near twilight that flattered the tiny house nestled on the hillside. He had only one good eye anyway, and I knew he couldn't truly see the shoddiness of how we lived until he went inside.

I turned and cupped his face between my palms. "Logan, would it be all right, and not too much like Fanny, if I kissed you just once for being so exactly what I want?"

"I think I could bear up."