He then opened the locker, placed two books on the top shelf and took out two more. As he was closing the locker again, he heard a voice behind him.

“Excuse me.”

He turned to face a pretty white girl dressed in the regulation uniform. She looked nervous and frightened, and he decided that it would be best to close the locker and continue to the classroom and not stand here with a white girl so close.

“Are you Joey Green?”

He paused. The corridor was fairly empty; most of the other students were already in their rooms. That’s right.

“Well, I’m Ella McDaniel. Tom McDaniel’s daughter.”

“Oh.” Joey took a step. “I heard about what happened yesterday. I hope he’s better. Is he?”

“Yes,” the girl said. “He’s a lot better.”

“I wish you’d thank him for us, miss,” Joey said. “He did a real fine thing. He’s a fine man.”

“I know.”

Joey noticed that the girl did not look at his eyes, and that she seemed to be getting more nervous. He snapped the combination lock together and twirled the knob. “Better get going,” he said, and smiled. “That bell’s about to ring.”

The girl nodded.

He started off down the hall.

“Wait a second.”

He turned. Four or five students were loitering in the hall now, reading the bulletin board, fooling with their lockers. One of them looked familiar.

“I wonder,” the girl said, “if you’d do me a favor.”

“Sure,” Joey said. “If I can.”

“It isn’t much. I’m—well, see, I’m working in the supply room, and I have to get some things. I could use a little help.”

“After class, you mean?”

“No. Right now.”

“Well, I’ll have to ask Miss Angoff. Wait right here and I’ll—”

“I spoke to her,” the girl said quickly. “She doesn’t mind. It’ll only take a few minutes. I just want you to kind of help me with some things.”

Joey shrugged. “Okay,” he said.

Ella McDaniel swung around and started walking down the hall. Joey followed. They went to the last stairway, down the long flight of steps, and into the lower floor, which was used for storage.

It was a black and silent place, all hot and heavy with the smells of paper, iron and coal dust; like a factory at night. The single wire-webbed light bulb high above put out a feeble glow, and Joey’s eyes were slow to penetrate the dusk.

“Come on,” the girl said.

Joey said, “All right,” and blinked. About were cartons stacked in massive rows; between them, slim and shadowed passageways. “I can’t see too good,” he said.

“Just follow me.”

He walked between the cardboard cliffs slowly, tracing lines along the dusty sides of the boxes with his fingers. Ahead, the girl walked briskly.