"As unreal as everything else had been, the locker was positively ethereal. It glinted in the sun, vivid neon Mirador green, number 6340. I approached it cautiously, hardly daring to think. By the laws of fate and time, I wasn't supposed to have a locker at a Southern California high school. I was supposed to hang my wet tan overcoat by the umbrella stand in a gray stone tower on Wall Street. I knew I had just dozed off at my desk, and this world would roll up and disappear." "I reached out cautiously, brushed the warm aluminum with my fingertips. Then I pressed my whole palm against the locker. I tossed in my books and beat a hasty retreat, should the universe still decide to evaporate. I now felt like an official high schooler. Book jacket."--BOOK JACKET