What's in a Name?

Things went on like that for a little while. Eventually, I learned her name by figuring out which binder was hers, because asking would have been too easy. Conveniently, it had her name in gian letters written across the front. We had become what I like to call classroom friends. We talked and hung out when we had class together, but other than that, we had no contact. To me, she was just another college student, taking the practicum class on a whim or for a few extra credits.
One day, Brad, one of the other students, asked me to drive him to his class on one of the training room golf carts. the golf carts where officially for the head trainers' use only, taking them and various sport supplies to and from the athletic events around the campus. Unofficially, the students in the practicum class used them to drop each other off at class, their cars and the different food vendors around the school. So it wasn't an unusual thing for Brad to ask or for me to oblige.
As I was collecting the keys and telling one of the trainers I was borrowing the cart, Ash asked if she could get a ride as well. Sure, why not? Ash drove with Brad riding shotgun and I rode in the back. The ride was uneventful: Brad talked to me about stupid things that I only had half an interest in. When we stopped at the edge of one of the parking lots next to the main street, I did what I always do when I'm dropping a stranger off that their car- I tried to guess which car belonged to said stranger. Nothing stood out to me, so I asked where she was parked. at this point, Brad spoke up with the first truly interesting thing he had said all day, "She is going to the high school." The high school across the street? Wow. Uh, ok. I'll let you get going girl-who-I-thought-was-my-age-but-I-now-know-is-still-in-high-school. Your really how old? 17? That's funny, you don't really look it. See you next week.