“It’s sitting on the back bench,” I said.

“Are you changing out of your work gear before we pull into the school lot?” Kenneth asked.

I looked down at my pants.

Salt spray had dried into white streaks around both knees, and wet sand was stuck to the thick soles of my leather combat boots.

“No, I’m not,” I said.

“Wyler’s wearing his full dress whites,” Kenneth said.

“He spent twenty minutes ironing his sleeves in the teachers’ lounge yesterday.”