When Amy wasn’t sitting on our bench again the following morning, I went looking for her.
I walked down the front of the building, checking for her in each group of students standing around, talking and laughing as they prepared themselves for the school day.
Next, I went inside and checked the cafeteria and the library. When I had no luck in either place, I went to her locker. But she wasn’t there either.
I found her sitting in her homeroom with her head on the desk, cradled in her arms.
I wanted to go into the room and talk to her, but the teacher was there, and he didn’t tolerate students talking in his classroom unless he called upon them.
It was the perfect place for Amy to avoid talking to me.
Still, I wasn’t going to give up. I knew enough about Amy’s school day to find a plac
