They were all over Ceci Rubin's house, swarming like bees around her sister Ellen. Though her sister was not the kind of flower you might think; even though Ellen was Sweetheart of the Senesch boys' group, she was a Nice Girl. She needed to be met two-thirds of the way in order to flirt. Had to be coached. Did not bat her eyes with frequency or naturalness. Did not laugh with the requisite ease; it was always a nervous giggle, an internal clattering of the throat muscles.