Of the two beautiful vixens at the back of the bus, Beth was the one you could talk to. She didn't have that warding-off energy of the other girls. She was like another "guy," not in the sense that she was a tomboy, but rather, she didn't have her guard up.

Also, she was not the pretty one. Her comrade, Pam, beautiful and aloof, had a force field around her, and if I were ever to approach her, which I never dared do, I imagined standing next to her forever before she'd notice me, and then only to say "...what?"

Beth may have felt her status closer to ours, and while she was Pam's "best friend," she had more in common with us. She took notice of us and, in a kind of conspiratorial way, spoke to us with complete frankness.

One day, I was standing with her outside the corner variety store, when she asked,

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

I don't recall what I answered, because I don't recall if I had any idea, so I asked,

"What do you want to be?"

"A prostitute."

"What?"

"A prostitute."

'Why?"

"You make money."

"But don't you always need guys that are hard up?"

"That's what you want."

This struck me in more ways than one. First, here was the first person my age who had a clear career path. Wasn't that something they were always telling us we should have? I wondered if this was what she told the counsellors at school when they asked. Second, I was struck by the transactional, uncomplicated way in which she viewed what for me at that point was an as yet unconsummated, nearly religious act.

Today, I wonder how it all worked out. Did she succumb to whatever in her personal life might have led her to this career path? Maybe she had a mentor, an older cousin, who guided her to a world of high-end escort services, then went on to run an exclusive brothel, serving the investment and political community. Perhaps she's now living comfortably on a Caribbean Island. I hope so.