“Hi Davey.” Evan sat down next to Davey.
“Hey Evan,” Davey replied, smiling. He didn’t make eye contact.
“Whatchoo doin’?” Evan asked.
“I’m trying to think of a way out of here,” said Davey.
“Just go through the door,” Evan said, laughing. “That one there.” He pointed back towards the classroom.
“That won’t work,” said Davey. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Sure,” said Evan.
“I need to run away for a while,” he confided. “So my mom doesn’t get hurt.”
“Well then don’t go through that door,” Evan said, as if the idea had been Davey’s. “You have to wait until they start an activity and then get signed out.”
“What do you mean?” Davey turned to Evan, surprised the boy had even offered advice. He had started to think that Evan was not all there, but wondered if he had judged too quickly.
“That woman who reads the books only sticks around while Mr. Nguyen gets his lunch. She keeps a sheet in her drawer. If someone has to go home early, she marks them down on the sheet and the Mr. Nguyen knows that they’re not around.”
“How do you know about that?” asked Davey.
“I just do,” said Evan.
Davey turned to thank him for the advice, and remind him to keep the secret, but when he looked up Evan was already moving away, back to the other younger kids. Davey faced back front and saw why Evan had left—Curtis stood in front of Davey, blocking out the sun except where his blond hair appeared like a halo around his head.
Davey looked up and squinted at the older boy.
“Hey, man,” said Curtis. He sat down next to Davey and elbowed him in the side.
“What?” asked Davey, keeping his voice low and even to show his disdain.
“Sorry those kids were talking about your mother yesterday,” he said. “You’re pretty cool.”
Davey didn’t reply, he just cut his eyes over to see Curtis’s expression. The older boy had offered his hand to Davey. Wary of a trick, Davey slid a few inches away before taking the boys hand. They shook with two fast pumps and then released the grip.
“I just figured you were another d-bag like some of these other kids. That’s why I was so mean to you at first,” said Curtis.
“Okay,” said Davey.
“You wanna go throw the ball around or something?” asked Curtis.
“We only have like fifteen minutes,” said Davey.
“Yeah, I know. I meant, like, next recess,” said Curtis.
“Sure,” said Davey.
“Cool,” said Curtis.
Sensing no immediate attack, Davey relaxed a little. He figured Curtis was the type to come out swinging, and no fast attack most likely meant none was coming.
“What do you do in the mornings?” asked Curtis.
“Baseball,” said Davey.
“I used to do that,” said Curtis. “You’re lucky you’re not here. This place blows in the mornings. It’s so boring.”
“Yeah,” said Davey.
They talked for a few minutes, forging the beginning of a connection, and then Davey came up with an idea.
“Hey,” he said to Curtis, “can you help me with something?”
“Sure,” said Curtis.
DAVEY WAITED UNTIL FOUR MINUTES before the end of recess to put his plan into action. Curtis explained the protocol, and Davey followed the instructions carefully. He smacked his palm on the door and cupped his hands to the glass to spot the paperback-woman. She put down her book, walked over, and cracked the door.
“Yeah?”
“I have to go to the bathroom,” he said.
“You can hold it,” she said, glancing at the clock. “You only have five minutes.”
“I can’t. I really can’t,” he pleaded.
“Okay,” she said. “Go fast.” She held open the door and let Davey pass.
He squeezed his legs together and shuffled quickly across the long room, trying to look distressed. Davey slipped into the hall and shut the door behind himself. Back in the classroom, he heard another commotion. He knelt down below the frosted glass, and pressed his ear against the wood so he could listen to what was happening.
“Hey,” Curtis shouted into the classroom. “Hey lady, he’s trying to run away. That kid is trying to run away.”
“Whatever, Curtis,” the paperback-woman said.
Davey’s stomach flopped and he looked up and down the hallway, sure his plan would fail.
“He is,” Curtis continued, “he just left, you have to catch him.”
Short breaths were all Davey could manage, he didn’t have a word for the panic and excitement that had turned his legs to rubber. Certain the the paperback-woman would open the door at any second, he backed away slightly, looked at the frosted glass, and saw the dark blur of the woman moving behind the desk.
“If you’re messing with me, you’re not going outside for a week,” the paperback-woman addressed Curtis. Miraculously, Davey heard her voice trailing off as she moved away from the door. He reached up, still crouching on the shiny tile, and turned the knob. It took both hands to form a grip with his sweaty hands. Davey cracked the door open and saw the paperback-woman standing in the far doorway, looking over the courtyard. He wanted her to turn completely away, to be more engaged with Curtis’s subterfuge, but he also didn’t want to squander what might be his only chance.
Davey shuffled, staying low, over to the back of the desk and slid open the top drawer. Opened to page twelve, the ledger listed each student’s name. Next to the entry, a time showed when the child arrived. Flipping back through the pages, Davey found what he was looking for—an example of an entry from when a child had been extracted from the program early by a parent.
He memorized the syntax and flipped back to page twelve. Next to his name, the inscription “B/R 1:26” showed the reason for his current absence. Davey erased the entry and replaced it with “OUT/MTHR 1:26,” copied from the example on page ten. He slipped the book back into the drawer and pushed it closed.
Davey steeled himself for the dash to the door. He poked his head around the side of the desk, to ensure the paperback-woman was still engaged with Curtis’s story, but what he saw forced him back behind the desk: the paperback-woman had seen through the lie and was already back in the classroom, the door swinging shut behind her. Curtis had his face pressed against the glass of the other door, but Davey wasn’t sure if his new friend had spotted his predicament. Davey tucked under the metal desk—where the woman’s legs would go if she didn’t always prop them up to support her book—and listened to the click of her approaching shoes.
She slowed as she rounded the desk and picked up her book from the surface. Davey heard her sigh interrupted by the outside door crashing open again.
“Hey!” an unfamiliar voice called out. “That guy just cut himself on something.”
“For Christ’s sake,” the woman said as she flopped her book back down.
Davey heard her shoes clicking away and mentally thanked Curtis for giving him more time. He didn’t bother to look, he figured it was his last chance. Davey scurried towards the door and slipped into the hallway, turning the handle before pulling it shut to avoid the click of the latch. Instead of heading towards the bathroom or his assigned locker, Davey took a right towards the glowing red exit sign.
The end of the hallway was dark, with only minimal lighting. Around the corner he found two heavy doors marked as an exit. He paused and listened. Davey didn’t know if he was using his ears or some other sense, but he thought of it as listening. He reached out with his senses to determine if this way was safe. Unable to perceive any danger, he pushed through the door, reminded of when he and Paul had snuck out of school. Only a couple short months before, Davey already pined for those carefree days of school.