- But mom, how I can keep my eye on the ball when my feet are itching like crazy?
- Oh you poor thing, you have athlete's foot.

The pretty girls are still in the back corner of the school's common room. When I last visited four years ago they wore t-shirts, shorts, and flip-flops. The inroads made by the designers since that time are in full evidence. Now, colorful dresses, blouses, and skirts abound, all complemented by nude hose and designer heels.
Today, eleven girls occupy the chairs and sofas in the corner. Each has flawless make-up and a hair style to accompany their latest spring fashions. Without exception, each has kicked off her shoes. As I carefully inch closer for a better view, it seems doubtful to me that there could be much scent produced by the assortment of elegant pumps and sandals on the floor, or by the nylon-covered, precision pedicured toes recently freed from them and wiggling on the tables. In any event, any aroma would doubtlessly be overwhelmed by the ever-present odor of Absorbine Jr. that I'm told dominates the room each day.
I decide that two girls who've abandoned their black Nine West pumps provide the best excuse for me to approach and see what I can learn. One blond and one brunette, they share a small sofa and take turns pressing a bottle of green liquid into their nylon covered toes in an effort to undo some of damage exacted by their high heels in the past four hours.