She's an eighth grader; he's a high school junior. She rides piggyback through the gym; they kiss in the hall. Peer pressure is ineffective for him; he's never been liked anyway. Her friend's little sister tells me, "He only likes her 'cause she's got big...boobs!" Whisper and giggle. I grimace.

The principal's involved, the counselor too. High school and middle school teachers alike separate the duo in our K-12 school on the prairie.

I had bus duty last week and watched them walk out of the building together. Arms around each other, they stepped behind the last bus in line, embraced passionately, and engaged in a little liplock. They turned to look at me. "We're off school grounds!" she yelled. I shook my head. They kissed again, then parted--she to her bus and him to the high school parking lot.

On Wednesday came legal action of a sort. I'm not sure what brought it about, since the girl's mother had previously treated the boy like a member of the family.

I had bus duty again yesterday and saw the girl walk out of the building toward the big yellow lineup. She pulled out her phone and stopped.

"Where are you? ... In front of the busses. ... Yeah."

She turned to a little kid. "Tell the driver I'm not riding today."

A tinted-window, blue four-door with duct tape covering a rear window pulled up. She hopped into the backseat and slammed the door. Parked at the apex of a T-intersection in front of the elementary wing, the driver reversed into traffic and across the crosswalk, then drove the wrong way until he could merge back into the right lane. I assume it wasn't the girl's mother. I hope not.

I told the principal and the counselor and trust that things are in their capable hands. Then I sighed. It takes an entire school system to raise someone else's child.