How charming he looked smiling into the camera, and how miserable she looked facing Johnny and trying to peek at the camera at the same time! All that was behind her now. The real Johnny would always do what Johnny wanted and never mind how other people felt. The Johnny she had admired was no more real than Kip Laddish on the television screen. Jean started to tear the snapshot in two, hesitated, and looked at it a second time. Johnny, the boy she neither liked or admired, and yet... she would never forget Johnny. It was Johnny who had noticed her, singled her out of the crowd, had made her feel she was attractive. In a way, it was Johnny who had made her aware of herself. She could not forget that. If only Johnny had been a different kind of boy... Jean picked up a pair of manicure scissors from the dresser and carefully snipped off her half of the snapshot and dropped it into the wastebasket. She lifted the lid of the lacquered box and dropped into it the wrapper of the straw. Her glance lingered on Johnny's half of the snapshot, which she laid on top of the wrapper. Silently she closed the box and shut the drawer. Goodbye, Johnny, she thought. I am not sorry I knew you. Maybe she should be sorry, but she wasn't. In her heart she knew she would always remember Johnny. Always.