[...] "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.

[...] 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.

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.

"[...] 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. [...]"