lot of hair growing out of her chin, according to Trout. When Dr. Berriault asked Trout how he was feeling, he said, “Not so good.” In fact, he said, “I’m thinking of setting fire to Stockton Elementary some Saturday when I have nothing better to do.” As a result of that conversation, Trout saw Dr. Berriault three times aweek after tutoring, which meant that most days he didn’t get home until six o’clock and he never even got to play sports or hang out or go to the drugstore for candy.
So it should have been no surprise that we decided to skip school on May 3 and go to New York. This time it was my idea.
We were sitting on the steps behind the school and it was a Tuesday, raining and cold. We weren’t even talking. After an hour and a half of tutoring, plus school, plus a meeting with Mr. O’Dell about my behavior and a meeting with Ms. Pratt about my behavior, I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not even Trout.
“My dad’s out of town again,” Trout said.
“So does that mean you’re staying home alone?”
“Yup,” he said.
“Creepy,” I said. “I mean, I’d be afraid, I think.”
“No reason,” Trout said. “I live in an apartment, fourth floor, no one’s going to try to get in. And my dad has this woman who lives next door that he kind of likes named Ginger, who checks in on me like every hour.”
I’d never been to Trout’s apartment. We’d been friends for a few weeks and I hadn’t been to his place or met his father and I didn’t really know anything about him except he was an only child and his mother lived in Hawaii with her boyfriend.
“So maybe we can go to your place,” I said.
“To do what?” Trout asked.
“You know. Hang out.”
“Not today,” he said. “I’m not allowed to have people over when my father’s not there. It’s the only rule I have except no smoking.”
“So if we skipped school tomorrow, we couldn’t go to your place, right?”
Trout gave me a thumbs-up.
“Skip school, huh.”
“Why not?” I shrugged.
“You’re right. It isn’t a lot of fun around here.”
“And what difference does it make whether we go to school or not? We’re still going to be dumb.”
“Right. We’re the dumbest kids in the fifth grade. Maybe we’ll end up being zookeepers. That’s what my dad says to me when I get bad grades. ‘You’ll end up as a zookeeper if you’re not careful, Trout,’ he says.”
“What does a zookeeper do? Take care of animals?”
“Not a chance. A zookeeper shovels manure.”
“Sounds fun.”
Trout was drawing on the blacktop with a piece of chalk that he’d taken from homeroom. “Stockton sucks” is what he’d written.
“So? Whaddya think?” I asked.
“I think we should skip school and take a train to New York.”
New York. I hadn’t even thought of New York. I’d been there, of course. Once a year as a treat around Christmas, Meg and I go to New York with my parents, and sometimes we go to the Bronx Zoo, where I want to go, or FAO Schwarz, where I used to want to look at toys when I was little, or ice-skating at Rockefeller Center, where Meg likes to go, or to an art gallery for my mother and a play for my father and then we come home extremely late. I usually fall asleep on the train.
I like New York a lot but I’ve never thought of going there by myself. I mean, I’m only eleven and not exactly a world traveler.
“Have you ever been to New York?” I asked.
“Nope,” Trout said. “I don’t even know how far away it is.”
“An hour.”
“That’s not so bad.”
“We could leave for school and meet at the corner like we usually do and then walk to the train station, so we’d be in the city by nine-thirty maybe and then hang out till about three and come back.”
“Cool,” Trout said.
I could tell that he was a little nervous about the idea.
“How long is your dad going to be away?” I asked.
“Till tomorrow night.”
“So it’d be easy. My mom and dad go to work when Ileave
So it should have been no surprise that we decided to skip school on May 3 and go to New York. This time it was my idea.
We were sitting on the steps behind the school and it was a Tuesday, raining and cold. We weren’t even talking. After an hour and a half of tutoring, plus school, plus a meeting with Mr. O’Dell about my behavior and a meeting with Ms. Pratt about my behavior, I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not even Trout.
“My dad’s out of town again,” Trout said.
“So does that mean you’re staying home alone?”
“Yup,” he said.
“Creepy,” I said. “I mean, I’d be afraid, I think.”
“No reason,” Trout said. “I live in an apartment, fourth floor, no one’s going to try to get in. And my dad has this woman who lives next door that he kind of likes named Ginger, who checks in on me like every hour.”
I’d never been to Trout’s apartment. We’d been friends for a few weeks and I hadn’t been to his place or met his father and I didn’t really know anything about him except he was an only child and his mother lived in Hawaii with her boyfriend.
“So maybe we can go to your place,” I said.
“To do what?” Trout asked.
“You know. Hang out.”
“Not today,” he said. “I’m not allowed to have people over when my father’s not there. It’s the only rule I have except no smoking.”
“So if we skipped school tomorrow, we couldn’t go to your place, right?”
Trout gave me a thumbs-up.
“Skip school, huh.”
“Why not?” I shrugged.
“You’re right. It isn’t a lot of fun around here.”
“And what difference does it make whether we go to school or not? We’re still going to be dumb.”
“Right. We’re the dumbest kids in the fifth grade. Maybe we’ll end up being zookeepers. That’s what my dad says to me when I get bad grades. ‘You’ll end up as a zookeeper if you’re not careful, Trout,’ he says.”
“What does a zookeeper do? Take care of animals?”
“Not a chance. A zookeeper shovels manure.”
“Sounds fun.”
Trout was drawing on the blacktop with a piece of chalk that he’d taken from homeroom. “Stockton sucks” is what he’d written.
“So? Whaddya think?” I asked.
“I think we should skip school and take a train to New York.”
New York. I hadn’t even thought of New York. I’d been there, of course. Once a year as a treat around Christmas, Meg and I go to New York with my parents, and sometimes we go to the Bronx Zoo, where I want to go, or FAO Schwarz, where I used to want to look at toys when I was little, or ice-skating at Rockefeller Center, where Meg likes to go, or to an art gallery for my mother and a play for my father and then we come home extremely late. I usually fall asleep on the train.
I like New York a lot but I’ve never thought of going there by myself. I mean, I’m only eleven and not exactly a world traveler.
“Have you ever been to New York?” I asked.
“Nope,” Trout said. “I don’t even know how far away it is.”
“An hour.”
“That’s not so bad.”
“We could leave for school and meet at the corner like we usually do and then walk to the train station, so we’d be in the city by nine-thirty maybe and then hang out till about three and come back.”
“Cool,” Trout said.
I could tell that he was a little nervous about the idea.
“How long is your dad going to be away?” I asked.
“Till tomorrow night.”
“So it’d be easy. My mom and dad go to work when Ileave
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