Even though it was completely ageist (Quinn had taught her that word) and she couldn't attend the dance (unless some upperclassman asked her....), Rilla was in the lobby selling prom tickets and watching over the ballot box for prom king and queen.

Le sigh. Life was a vale of tears, as Miss Cornelia often said. Rilla was certain not being allowed to go to the big dance certainly fell among her life's great tragedies, but she was trying to look as interested (and interesting, in case some upperclassman still needed a date, hint, hint) as possible as she sat there and made a snarled mess of a pattern of lace she was working on.