CORY SAT ON the low retaining wall that surrounded the main entrance to the school, pulled her knees up close, and leaned back. The bricks were still warm from the afternoon sun. She ran her finger between them and thought about getting out her blue Sharpie to draw a line in the cement groove between the bricks in whichever direction she wanted it to go. Like that kid’s book her mom used to read to them about the boy with the purple crayon. The bright blue line would meander crazily up the side of the school, outlining windows, back and forth until she had turned the whole front of the school into an Aztec-looking mosaic.
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