Black Card. Chris L. Terry

novel about the Revolutionary War to us in a monotone. I was dreading it the second time we went in, and was happy to see an empty seat near the door, by Naima and Anthony. When nothing but sunshine lit the room, and the teacher had started droning on about muskets, Anthony poked my rib and pointed to the classroom door, which he’d nudged open with the toe of his sneaker. I was just old enough to want to climb through holes in fences, and followed without worrying, crawling out of the classroom and finding Naima and Anthony pressed up against the wall in the hall outside the door.

      We ran down four flights of stairs to this big, rarely used bathroom by the gym in the basement. Sneakiness was the main thrill. Being away from class with my friends. Having it not be a big deal that a girl was in the boys’ room. Stifling our laughs and footsteps so they didn’t echo off the high ceiling. We took turns standing on a toilet and climbing onto this ledge behind the stalls, to peek out a window to the street.