I grabbed my boots and hurried past them. Fortunately my mother’s attention had shifted back to helping Joel. When I got back to my room I locked the door again, then opened the closet. Grace was sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Here.”

She slipped her feet into the boots.

I went to the bedroom window and tried to open it. It was stuck and it took both of us to get it open. I climbed out the window first, then helped Grace out. We kept to the perimeter of the yard and out of view of the windows until we were far enough from the house to safely cut across the yard. We were panting from the exertion when we finally got back inside the clubhouse. Grace climbed inside the sleeping bag, then lay back on the mattress.

“How do you feel?” I asked.

“Better,” she said. “It felt good to shower.”

We were both quiet, and then Grace started laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Everything,” she said. “I’m crawling through windows and wearing boys’ underwear.” She put her hand on my leg. “Are you going to school tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“I have some things in my locker. Would you mind getting them?”

“Sure. What do you need?”

“Just bring everything. But the most important thing is a red cloth pouch. Whatever you do, don’t lose it.”

“A red cloth pouch,” I repeated.

“You’ll need my locker combination.” She took a pen and a piece of paper out of her school bag and wrote it down. She also wrote “red cloth pouch” and underlined it three times. “Here you go.”

I folded the paper and put it in my pocket. “I better get back inside before my mom finds out I’m gone. She thinks I’m taking a shower.” I got down to crawl out.

“Eric, thanks for saving me.”

I looked up at her. She had an expression I’d never seen on a girl’s face, at least not one looking at me. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but I liked it.

“You’re my hero.”

“Any time,” I said.

As I walked back to the house I realized that I really had saved her. Of course I wasn’t about to win any awards, as technically I’d put her in danger to begin with, but when you’re a fourteen-year-old boy with acne and a bad haircut, it felt good to be somebody’s hero.

CHAPTER Eight

Last night, Eric brought me a two-week old newspaper.
There was an article about a riot that started when a negro
enrolled at the University of Mississippi. It seems strange
to me that we could put a man in outer space but have
trouble putting a black man in college.

GRACE’S DIARY

MONDAY, OCT. 15