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Not everyone was thrilled. The football team sweated through morning practice without a girl so much as glancing at them. “I kind of want him to leave,” groused freshman football player C.J. Arch.

Arch’s friend Jayden Korber, also a freshman, looked on the bright side: Lautner “brought all these new girls to town,” he said. “I’ll just do the clean-up work.”

By afternoon, it was humid and boring. Nothing to see except the brick exterior of their school. Hannah Rice, 14, mentioned that her mom had contacted the production company to offer up the family’s house. “It would have been cool to say he slept in my bed,” Hannah said. “I’d start drooling.”

Then squeals, and a chorus erupted:

“I would have stolen his clothes.”

“I would have stolen his underwear!”

“I would have stolen him! I’d have locked him in my closet and not let him go!”

As giggles subsided, reality seemed to suck the air out of their fun. “He’s so close,” Amber Beemer said. “But you can’t get him.”

Day Two wore on _ 4 p.m., 5 p.m., 6 p.m. It started to rain. Kathleen DiPerna, Jessica Brodman and their friends, all 17, were getting frustrated. It becomes harder to imagine your celebrity crush falling in love with you when he’s actually here and clearly isn’t.

“Usually you can go into your school whenever you want,” DiPerna said. “We spend so much time in there, and now we have to stand back and watch and we can’t go in.”

9 p.m., steady rain. It was getting cold. Some girls had left. But dozens stuck it out until a handful of others emerged from behind the building. He’s gone, they said _ waved a quick goodbye and left through a back entrance.

Some were near tears. Others were sure he’d return. Many complained. Yet they struggled for words to excuse him.

He’s here to do his job. He’s just a guy at work. He’s not a mythical creature. Only DiPerna said it aloud: He’s human.

No one seems pleased about that.