Melanie and Susie were enrolled in a kindergarten-only school. A small public building had been commandeered by a school district struggling with the deluge of post-war babies who had attained the entry age of five and acquired all the necessary inoculations. The Seaman House had two large classrooms on the ground level, what seemed like a labyrinth of small offices on the upper floors that the students were generally prohibited from visiting, and an adequate playground in the back yard.

On the first day of school the girls arrived separately. Melanie’s mom escorted her to the classroom on the right side of the building and Susie’s mother saw that her daughter was settled in the other class. Four hours later both moms arrived in Melanie’s family Buick, to cart them back to their homes. The girls said “Okay” to their mothers’ questions about the first day of school. When the mothers tried to pry more reactions and details from the daughters, they didn’t get much. Susie liked the snacks they ate. Melanie didn’t understand the rest period. Then the girls fidgeted to play in Susie’s yard, and left the mothers to their hot drinks over the metal-edged dinette table.

Susie and Melanie didn’t talk about school much to each other. Susie liked her first day of kindergarten; Melanie saw that she was pleased to be away from her mother and looking forward to the next day too. For her part, Melanie was disappointed. She couldn’t put her finger then on what the issue was, but she’d entered the Seaman House with expectations that hadn’t been met. She had no preschool experience. She’d been led to believe she would learn in school, and she liked to learn, and it hadn’t happened that day. In fact, her teacher reminded her of the lady on Romper Room, using almost baby talk with the students, practically putting her hands on her knees in that bent-forward condescension Melanie despised in nurses, organizing books by color as if the kids couldn’t play a game harder than Candyland, and (worst of all) making everyone lie down on mats and be quiet after juice.

The next day, Susie and her mother picked up Melanie for school. Melanie’s mom would fetch the girls afterward. The mothers first figured they’d alternate shifts, if not daily at least once a week, but as it turned out, Susie’s mother had more time in the morning, because her husband wasn’t around during the week and she didn’t have other children. And Melanie’s mom always had midday errands that required the car. So the families settled almost immediately into a steady commute routine. Susie and her mother would pick up Melanie fifteen minutes before school started, and Melanie’s car, with her mother driving and her brother aboard, was always there when school ended.

On the second day of school, Susie and Melanie tumbled out of the back seat of the Chrysler, waved to Susie’s mother, and skipped through the big front doors together. That was as far as Susie’s mom could see, so she departed then.

Melanie didn’t make the right turn into her classroom. She stayed with Susie and entered the other kindergarten. She took the seat next to Susie’s near the back of the room, and she watched.