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Justine Larbalestier

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  • greencпре 8 година
    AFTER
    When Zach isn’t in school Tuesday morning I am worried. He said he’d call me Monday night. But didn’t. Friday night was the last time I saw him. That isn’t usual.
    Zachary Rubin is my boyfriend. He isn’t the best boyfriend in the world, but he usually does what he says he will.
    If he was going to skip school he’d have taken me with him. We could’ve gone running in the park. Or ridden around on the subway all day laughing at the crazies, which is mostly everyone.
    Once we walked from the Staten Island Ferry all the way up to Inwood, right next to the big hospital and the bridge that leads to the Bronx. It took us all day. We’d get sidetracked, checking things out, looking around. Enjoying the novelty of walking instead of running.
    Broadway was our path north through the island. Zach said it used to be an Indian trail, which made it the oldest street in Manhattan. That’s why it twists and turns, sometimes on the diagonal, sometimes straight like an avenue.
    Me and Zach had an argument about what the water under the bridge to the Bronx was called. Was it the Hudson or the East River? Or did they meet in the middle under the bridge? Whatever it was called, the water was gray brown and nasty-looking. So it could’ve been either one.
    That was our best day together.
    I hope Zach isn’t doing anything that cool without me. I’ll kill him if he is.
    I eat lunch on my own. A cold steak sandwich. The bread is gray and wet, soggy with meat juice. I eat the steak and throw the
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