The school looked menacing at nighttime, like a sophisticated modern megalith that seemed to be sleeping. As she walked to the edge of its grounds, Aria felt as if the building itself might wake, like a guard dog. Though it was spring, the grass under her feet had not been graced by the impulse of the season. It seemed dead, or dormant at least, and colorless. Making sure to draw no attention to herself, she found her familiar place underneath the bleachers. She was used to them during the daytime, when the sun had warmed them so deeply that they were soothing to the touch. This was different. At nighttime, the metal was like silver ice. She felt judged by them. And just as she’d been afraid of, a few minutes after she crouched down, the stillness and silence set in. The unfamiliar nature of this well-known place made her begin to doubt herself.

Clifford was unsettled by the stillness too. As soon as her body settled, the cat began squirming. He tried to jump up and out of the collar of her coat. “No,” she said, “stay here.” Trying to keep his movements hushed but to no avail, eventually she resorted to using one hand to untie the worn laces of one of her high-top sneakers and pull it out. She tied the shoelace to Clifford’s collar, like a leash, and watched, saying nothing, as he contended with it for a few minutes before lying down in the dust in a state of defeat. His tail was swishing. His ears were half pinned back. He had a look on his face of so much chagrin; Aria thought to herself that he almost looked human. She felt guilty, but, in her own state of distress, could conjure nothing within herself to remedy it.

Aria’s mind tried to distract her by running frantically through every possible scenario for how things could play out. She thought about going back home. She thought about being captured by the police. She thought about hitchhiking to another part of the country. She thought about running into the wilderness and creating a life for herself in nature. For a second, she decided to go back home, but then, as if snapping out of a daze, she remembered the conversation she had overheard between Mr and Mrs Johnson. They had already made up their mind to hand her back over to the state. If she went back home, she wouldn’t get there until dawn had already broken. Having them find out that she’d spent the night out of the house was like putting the signature on her eviction notice from their lives. It wasn’t an option.