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“
Jolene
,
”
Beth
said
,
“
you
’
re
too
smart
for
that
.
You
could
teach
at
the
University
.
And
you
’
re
a
fine
athlete
…
”
“
I
know
what
I
’
m
doing
,
”
Jolene
said
.
“
I
play
good
tennis
and
golf
and
I
’
m
ambitious
.
”
She
took
a
deep
drag
on
her
cigarette
.
“
You
may
have
no
idea
just
how
ambitious
I
am
.
I
worked
hard
at
sports
,
and
I
had
coaches
promising
I
’
d
be
a
pro
if
I
kept
at
it
.
”
“
That
doesn
’
t
sound
bad
.
”
Jolene
let
the
smoke
out
slowly
.
“
Beth
,
”
she
said
,
“
what
I
want
is
what
you
’
ve
got
.
I
don
’
t
want
to
work
on
my
backhand
for
two
years
so
I
can
be
a
bush
league
pro
.
You
’
ve
been
the
best
at
what
you
do
for
so
long
you
don
’
t
know
what
it
’
s
like
for
the
rest
of
us
.
”
“
I
’
d
like
to
be
half
as
good
-
looking
as
you
are
…
”
“
Quit
giving
me
that
,
”
Jolene
said
.
“
Can
’
t
spend
your
life
in
front
of
a
mirror
.
You
ain
’
t
ugly
anymore
anyhow
.
What
I
’
m
talking
about
is
your
talent
.
I
’
d
give
my
ass
to
play
tennis
the
way
you
play
chess
.
”
The
conviction
in
Jolene
’
s
voice
was
overwhelming
.
Beth
looked
at
her
face
in
profile
,
with
its
Afro
grazing
at
the
top
of
the
car
interior
,
at
her
smooth
brown
arms
out
to
where
her
steady
hands
held
the
wheel
,
at
the
anger
clouding
her
face
,
and
said
nothing
.
A
minute
later
Jolene
said
,
“
Well
,
now
.
There
it
is
.
”
About
a
mile
ahead
to
the
right
of
the
road
stood
three
dark
brick
buildings
with
black
roofs
and
black
window
shutters
.
The
Methuen
Home
for
Orphaned
Children
.
