“You might think lunchtime at Willing would be different from other high schools. That everyone would be welcome at any table, united by the knowledge that we, at Willing, are the Elite, the Chosen, stellar across the board.Um.No.Of course not.High school is high school, regardless of how much it costs or how many kids springboard into the Ivies. And nowhere is social status more evident than in the dining room (freshman and sophomores at noon; upperclassmen at one). Because, of course, Willing doesn't have a cafeteria, or even a lunch hall. It has a dining room, complete with oak tables and paneled walls that are covered with plaques going all the way back to 1869, the year Edith Willing Castoe (Edward's aunt) founded the school to "prepare Philadelphia's finest young ladies for Marriage,for Leadership, and for Service to the World." Really. Until the sixties, the school's boastful slogan was "She's a Willing Girl."Almost 150 years, three first ladies, and one attorney general-not to mention the arrival of boys-later, female members of the student body are still called Willing Girls. You'd think someone in the seventies would have objected to that and changed it. But Willing has survived the seventies of two different centuries. They'll probably still be calling us Willing Girls in 2075. It's a school that believes in Tradition, sometimes regardless of how stupid that Tradition is.”

“We're not supposed to have electronic stuff out during the school day. Yeah,right. I would say with confidence that 250 of Willing's 311 students can text without looking.”

“Jareed tended to rush in and out of the dining room; he had Willing worlds to conquer every day. But he made sure to stop in the doorway on his way out and give Sadie a huge, flourishing farewell bow.It stopped traffic.”

“I thought maybe she would have been an okay teacher. If she hadn't been guaranteed to scare the opinions right out of just about anyone at Willing who might possess one.”

“Truth (according to Edward Willing): People who rely on first sight are either lazy or deluded.”

“There was something written in pencil in the bottom corner, smudged and faded. I leaned in until my nose was almost pressed against the glass. Narnia, it looked like.I must have stared for a lot longer than it seemed.A tap on the door had my jumping. "Ella?" A second later. "Um...Ella? You okay in there?"Alex looked red-faced and startled when I jerked the door open. Even more so when I grabbed his wrist with both of my hands and pulled him into the bathroom. Another time,I might have been equally red-faced. I would definitely have been uncomfortable, even if it wasn't in a bad way. But at the moment,I was too busy in a different part of my head.I let go of him and pointed to the sketch. "That's a Willing.""Is it?" He didn't look particularly impressed. More relieved that I hadn't fallen and hit my head or had some similar mishap."Edward Willing. You have to know who Edward Willing is."He peered past me. "Philadelphia painter. Early twentieth century, right? I was in your art history class last year,you know."I didn't.Not really. "You were?""I sat in back.You sat in front. Never saw your face during class,but I remember you arguing with Evers about Dali.I remember. You don't like Dali.""Not much.""You like this guy?""Yeah." I took a breath. "Yeah.I do. And you have one of his sketches. In your guest bathroom.”

“Favorite painting...?""Painting? Odalisque," I said."Really.His non-nude nude. Interesting."It was,to me. Edward's most famous painting of Diana is Troie, where he painted her as Helen of Troy: naked except for the diamond bracelet and the occasional tendril of auburn hair. It had caused quite a stir at its exhibition. Apparently, Millicent Carnegie Biddle fainted on seeing it. It wasn't quite what she was used to viewing when she sat across from Mrs. Edward Willing every few weeks, sipping tea from Wedgewood china cups. Odalisque was more daring in its way, and infinitely more interesting to me. Most of the Post-Impressionist painters did an odalisque, or harem girl, reclining on a sofa or carpet, promising with their eyes that whatever it was that they did to men, they did it well. An odalisque was almost compulsory material.But unlike any of them,Edward had painted his subject-Diana-covered from neck to ankle in shimmery gauze.Covered,but still the ultimate object of desire."Why that one?" Dr. Rothaus asked."I don't know-""Oh,please.Don't go all stupid teenager on me now.You know exactly why you like the painting.Humor me and articulate it."I felt myself beginning the ubiquitos shoulder dip. "Okay. Everyone is covering up something. I guess I think there's an interesting question there.""'What are they hiding?'"I shook my head. "'Does it make a difference?'""Ah." One sharp corner of her mouth lifted. I would hesitate to call it a smile. "That is interesting.But your favorite Willing piece isn't a painting.""How-""You hesitated when I asked. Let me guess...Ravaged Man?""How-""You're a young woman. And-" Dr. Rothaus levered herself off the desk-"you went through the 1899 file. I know the archive.”