Her back was to us, so I couldn't see her face. No one sat with her, but at the tables next to hers kids were cramming two to a seat. She didn't seem to notice. She seemed marooned in a sea of staring, buzzing faces (1.25).
He played on no sports team, joined no organization, won no awards, earned no A's. He was elected to nothing, honored for nothing—and yet, though I did not realize this until years later, he was grand marshal of our daily parade (4.6).
By then, most of us had decided that we liked having her around […] At the same time, we held back. Because she was different. Different (5.16).