part 2

When our plan of escape was complete and the day of commencement had finally 
arrived, westuffed our sox with cheezits in the utter most 
secrecy and caution during our thirty-minute lunch period. It was time for
action and the bell of our mid-afternoon break sounded as we marched to its
beat as if we were off to battle. Meeting at our station in the sand, we
stuffed Sevy?s pockets with our rations of cheezits and issued forth into the
grass tundra, making sure not to look suspicious.
During the time spent on our camp, we had observed that the teachers on recess
duty were often too engaged in supervising the dangerous sport of dodge ball,
so their backs were often turned towards the fence and we were in the clear.
Proceeding with caution, we sprinted, running between the swing-set and the 
rainbow wall as the fence got closer and closer. Our school uniforms seemed
 destined to camouflage to that ivied fence, as we searched for the lock in the
gate to discover that the toothpicks we had. To our
surprise, the lock was purely for show to us jail breakers.
In contrast to his glasses, Sevy?s tiny frame squeezed perfectly between the
gates of the locked fence. Turning toward us, Sevy waved goodbye from the other
side and we responded in the same before edging our way back to camp. Sitting
once again in the sandbox surrounded by my fellow bureau rather than
accomplices, I remember feeling better about our victory than any little league game, which now seemed petty and frivolous.
        We never saw Sevy again. I remember returning from recess and Mrs. Denny
noticing one of her pupils absent following a series of many phone calls to and
from our classroom. As Mrs. Denny ran frantically back and forth from her wooden
chestnut desk that oddly matched her now frazzled hair, I sat proudly gleaming
in my chair. Two cop cars graced the parking lot of the pickup zone but 
after school tutoring retained me and my bureau from further
investigation as to the where abouts of Sevy Anton.
The day that Sevy and his little white paper bags did not come to school was the
day a change occurred in my lieutenant of a teacher. The harsh engraved lines on
her face now drooped with heavy eyes as if her own guilt was anchoring them to
the floor. That empty chair was so silent behind me, yet to Mrs. Denny it 
appeared to be a screaming reminder of her cruelty.