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riday morning, as planned with the gang, I skipped school. I shrugged my uniform on, swallowed milk, walked Peter schoolward , and then navigated the lanes back into our house. The dog was the only witness to my return. I cocooned myself in bed and went back to sleep. A racket at the window scared me awake, and I rolled over and shoved my face through the curtain. Gravel spattered the metal screen. I jerked back. Tim was standing in the lane, hooking his arm for me to come down. I stumbled below to the kitchen and opened the back door. Tim stepped in, then backed out, and held a one-second finger up. He hawked and spit, followed me upstairs. My mouth tasted garlicky, and I felt empty and irritable. "We're the only ones skipping," Tim said. "Rusty has to serve the school Mass this afternoon. Get dressed foradventure."Tim's hair was shagged out over his ears, and he wore cuffed jeans and a sweat shirt he'd silk-screened with a Picasso bull. He tapped myjar of Sea Monkeys. "These arejust brine shrimp, you know." "What makes you think I want to speak to you?" "You came downstairs in your underwear and let me in. Besides , you're not capable of staying mad more than a couple days. 120 Foo

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