But where to after that? That was the question Juno still wasn’t at all keen on, once she’d calmed down.

At The Depression that night the protest songs weren’t on hold. Folks were saying that the dead president had just been beginning to see the light, that he’d decided to bring a thousand troops home from Vietnam by Christmas. Some said that what would come now could only be worse.

They were proved right within days. As I’m sure you’re aware, the thousand troops stayed in Vietnam and the man who shot Kennedy dead was shot dead.

And Juno stayed officially in school. When her birthday came ’round, she still hadn’t figured out what to tell grandma and pop. Nothing and nowhere she could think of, not Paris, New York, Toronto or Rome, called to her strongly enough for her to give up her cozy set-up for good. It was nice to have someplace familiar to lay your head.

She put a blanket spell on Templeton Secondary, as Templeton Junior High was now called after the addition of grades eleven and twelve, for everybody attending the school in any capacity to forget all about her. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but it didn’t impact on people’s lives in any major way and was therefore low-maintenance. It would have to do for now. (‘Kids sure are weird at this age,’ Doris’s mom said to grandma sometime around Christmas. ‘Our two must’ve fallen out real good this time. I asked Doris how Juno got on with that Spanish paper and all she said was, “Who?” Can you credit it!’ ‘No,’ replied grandma, wondering if it could be the change already that made sensible Mrs Martin fantasize Juno had anything to do with a Spanish newspaper. Yes, grandma and pop had had some low-impact, low-maintenance spelling done to them, too. The fact that school had anything to do with tests and reports would’ve come as a real surprise to them right then.)

Juno knew she was only buying time. But she hoped, how she hoped that something would happen any day now to tell her what to do. She sure felt like she was breathing nothing but expanding intensity.