To The Power Of Three

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People would want to know what she was thinking, the night before. They always do, or think they do-but in her case they would have been disappointed. Because by the night before, the thinking was long over and she was preoccupied mainly with logistics. Planning, preparing, packing. Finding her old knapsack, an orange-and-black JanSport she hadn’t used for months, not since Christmastime.

Knapsacks had gone out of fashion that spring at Glendale High School, at least among the stylish girls. The divas, as they were known-they had bestowed the name on themselves and considered it laudatory-had taken to carrying plastic totes in bright primary colors, see-through and flimsy. Even the name-brand versions, the ones that cost upwards of a hundred dollars, buckled under the weight the divas expected them to carry. But then it’s a myth that more expensive things are better made-or so her father always said, whenever she expressed a desire for something trendy. At the mall she had seen diva mothers storm into Nordstrom or Hecht Co., proclaiming the totes defective. “What was she using it for?” skeptical salesladies inquired, examining the torn and stretched-out handles beneath the fluorescent lights. “The usual,” lied the mothers. “Girl stuff.”

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