Of course, I remembered that night. The one and only time I’d gathered up the balls to sneak out of my house, I found him. I’d been mad at my mom for telling me I couldn’t take an art class downtown, so I decided to sneak out and bicycle to an abandoned alley where I could spray paint on a vandalized wall.
It was stupid and impulsive, but it saved a kid’s life.
The dark night felt heavier than usual, humid and muggy, but I didn’t care. I peddled so fast, tears raced down my cheeks as I
dumped my bike and hopped off. The alley was behind a bar that I knew better than to near, but my mood made me angry and
careless.
I shook the paint I’d found in our garage with my hand, mumbling obscenities I’d never have the nerve to say to my mother in real
life, before I heard a trash can lid f
