Three students sprinted across the street, running into the neighborhood, escaping the assembly. I grinned, putting a cigarette in my mouth and lighting it up. It’d be impossible to keep them all in, especially when the teachers don’t really care that much.

My phone went off. I sighed, not wanting to hear any more people telling me how sorry they were about my mom. I fished it out of my bag and checked the caller ID. It was the number from the phone I’d lost the week before.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Yo, Miss Riviera.”

“Mike?” I said in a hushed voice, looking around.

“Yeah,” he said, “listen, you gotta start driving.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

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