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"[...] Even when it got real cool out on the porch of the place she'd wait, it turned out. She just kept looking at my Daddy like she didn't see what the problem was, this was just her life now, here, didn't we know it? While all the while we just stood around feeling terrible. [...]"

But dancing was of course out of the question, and this girl in the throes of Rite of course either danced or installed herself in a social orbit around the hors d'oeuvre bar, and I will never ever again approach a female at a hors d'oeuvre bar.

[...] Am invited by Rex Metalman to a cotillion for his daughter, Melinda Susan Metalman. (Was it a real cotillion? Why can't I remember?) Am invited by Rex Metalman to some Puberty-Rite function for his daughter.

[...] "Not infection rising from within, but injury punched into the tired envelope from without," "the skin no longer a viable boundary," and so on. He had not said membrane, to Lenore's knowledge.

Fieldbinder smiled coolly and speculatively stroked his own generous jaw, lingering over the deep cleft that somehow through physical processes obscure caught and reflected light in such a way as to blind anyone who tried to look directly into Fieldbinder's deep green eyes

_deep blue eyes, the…