I crumpled the permission slip, tossed it into the trash along with my halfmade peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and then because I couldn’t stand being there for one more second, I left. Even though it wasn’t warm enough yet, I put on a pair of flip-flops because I liked the sound they made when I walked in them.

Once I got outside, I didn’t know where to go. Most people had left for school or work already and the air felt empty. I thought about walking toward the row of mailboxes at the end of the driveway, but it was too early to get the mail and, even if it wasn’t, nothing ever came for me since no one knew where I was. So I walked in the grass, which was wet and made my feet feel slippery.

Maybe I ended up there because there wasn’t any other place for me to end up. I was at the edge of the complex where Daryl had taken me that night to watch the trucks trample his jeans. When I looked down the hill, I saw him sitting on the ground, scribbling in what looked like the notebook I had tried to take from him that day on the roof. I tried to sneak up on him, but my flip-flopping gave me away. He turned towards me, the curl of his lip reminded me of a hissing snake. When he saw it was me, his face softened, but only for a second.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as he shoved the notebook into his backpack.

I had to rewind to the last time we were together to decide how to approach him. It was like losing my place in a book and skimming through the pages to find where I last left off.

“Thought this was a free country.” I sat down, took my flip flops off, and buried my toes into the soft, wet grass.

“No school for you today, Mytilda?”

“It’s Maaatilda, and yes, it’s an unofficial holiday.” I leaned back against my elbows. “What’s the big secret with your notebook?”

A car drove past and I wondered what we looked like to someone passing by.

“It’s nothing.” He pulled a blade of grass out of the ground and used the soft flesh of his thumb to flatten it.

I wanted him to confide in me. Tell me things he wouldn’t tell anyone else. But I knew that first I had to offer him something that would make him know that I was trustworthy. “I have these dreams, sometimes.”

He put the blade of grass in his mouth.

“It’s always dark and I am screaming. Everything around me is swirling and then suddenly it all turns red.”

A plane flew above us, but neither of us looked up. He didn’t say anything, just stared straight ahead. “Does your mother know you’re out here?”