Frank Hardy laid down his pen and flexed his fingers gratefully. He had been scribbling notes at a frantic pace for nearly 90 minutes, and his hand ached. Survey of the Criminal Justice System had sounded interesting when he’d read the course description, but he was beginning to suspect it was going to be a difficult class.

Frank sighed, pushed back his wavy dark hair, and began to gather his scattered sheets of notebook paper into a neat pile. He clipped them into his binder, and slid it into the backpack hanging on the back of his chair. He was glad this was his last class of the day and that he didn’t have to hurry to get to another, although most of the criminal justice classes were held in this same building. Introduction to Criminal Investigation was on the third floor, Criminology just down the hall.

College is so different…he thought. Classes only two or three days a week, running clear across the campus to get to the library…so different from high school. He rose to his feet, stretching his long legs with relief. At 6’1", being scrunched into a lecture chair for an hour and a half was a strain. He shrugged his backpack over one shoulder and went into the hall, mingling with dozens of other students who were either rushing madly to get to another class, or strolling casually along, chatting and laughing. Spotting an unoccupied bench against the wall, Frank decided to sit down for a minute, reorganize his backpack, and wait for the crowd to clear.

What a difference a week makes! Ten days ago it was the same old gang, everyone together, just like it’s been for so long. Now…. Frank frowned, brows drawing together over his brown eyes, thinking and remembering back.

For a long time, he and his younger brother Joe had been in school together. Even though they were in different grades, they had spent nearly all their out-of-class time together, often in company with their friends, Tony Prito, Biff Hooper, Phil Cohen, and Chet Morton. And, for quite a while now, there had been Callie Shaw and Vanessa Bender, as well. Now, abruptly, there had been a split, prompted by the inevitable graduation of Frank, Callie, Tony and Phil from Bayport High. Joe, Biff, Vanessa and Chet were still there, delighted to be seniors at last, but admittedly missing their friends.

Phil had gone to NYU, to major in computer science and technology. He tried to make it home on weekends, but spent Monday through Friday in New York, staying with an aunt and uncle. Tony was also attending Bayport Community College, but he was studying construction, intending on joining his father’s construction company when he was through. He had had to juggle the hours that he worked at Mr. Pizza, to fit in a college schedule, and Frank rarely saw him on campus; their class hours didn’t mesh, and weren’t in the same buildings. And Callie – ah, yes, Callie.

Callie had applied to her father’s alma mater, the University of Colorado, with no thought of actually going there. She had done it merely to please Mr. Shaw. To her amazement, the school had not only accepted her, but had offered her a large scholarship. Hesitant, but unable to pass up the windfall, Callie had chosen U. of C., and had left for Colorado ten days ago, driving with her parents across the country with furniture and belongings stuffed into their Ford Expedition as tightly as they could be packed.

Frank had heard from her, of course. As soon as she was settled in her dorm room, with her computer hooked up, she had e-mailed him, and they had been exchanging messages every day. At first her letters had sounded doleful, with many references to past experiences they shared, and always ended with "I love you, I miss you SO much!" But the last couple had been full of the things she had been doing, the freshman activities she had attended, stories of the people she was meeting. And last night, her closing sentence was "Gotta run, or I’ll be late for the party with Butler Hall. Jen and I are going over with Jonathan and Steve."

Frank had known she would make friends there, and they hadn’t promised not to date other people while she was gone; it wouldn’t have made sense. But I’m so lonely! he realized, as he returned with a start to his surroundings. Someone was standing directly in front of him, waving a hand across his face.

"Excuse me?" a soft voice said. "Hello? Earth to – whoever?"

"Sorry! I was thinking." Frank looked up…and froze, mesmerized.

Reddish-gold hair, cut short and tumbling in soft curls about her face. Blue eyes – not the sparkling sapphire that Joe’s were, but a soft blue-green, shaded by the longest eyelashes he’d ever seen….A few freckles sprinkled across her nose, and a somewhat hesitant expression.

"I didn’t mean to disturb you – but I think you dropped this?" She held out a gold pen, and Frank recognized it as his, part of the set he had received from Con Riley and his wife as a graduation gift.

"Oh, yeah, thanks. I guess I did." Frank took the pen and dropped it into a pocket of his backpack. "How did you know it was mine?"

"You were sitting a couple of seats in front of me in the Criminal Justice Survey class, and I saw it fall when you stood up. There was such a crush, getting out, that I couldn’t catch up with you right away." She smiled, and Frank noticed a dimple dodge into sight in one cheek. "I’m Megan Wright, by the way." She held out her hand.

"Oh!" Reminded of his manners, Frank hastily stood, and reached to shake hands. She’s so small! Can’t be more than 5’2". "I’m Frank Hardy. Nice to meet you. I’m sorry I didn’t see you in class – but you did say you were in back of me, right? I guess I should turn around more often. It was nice of you to pick up the pen." Nice going, Hardy, just how much can you babble? She’ll think you’re a moron. "You a freshman?"

"Yes, I am. You too?"

"Uh huh. Did you go to school at Bayport High? I don’t remember seeing you there."

"No, I didn’t. I was at Lakeridge Academy in New York." Her voice went flat, and all the animation fled from her face; the dimple disappeared.

Frank was a little deflated by her sudden coolness. He picked up his backpack, swung it over his shoulder, and gestured toward the stairs. "Can I walk you somewhere? Are you going to another class?"

"No, I’m done for the day." Megan’s temporary aloofness dissipated, and she smiled up at the tall boy beside her. "You can walk me to Parking Lot C, if you don’t mind."

"I’m parked in ‘B,’ so I’m heading the same way." Frank assured her, and they headed for the building exit.