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“So what time they coming?” Chops asked.

“Supposed to be ten,” Harry said. “If they don’t change their minds.”

“They won’t. What school is it going to be?”

“St. Agonies.”

“What?”

“St. Agnes. I heard they call it St. Agonies.”

“All boys?”

“Nah, supposed to be girls too.”

“Catholic girls. Good luck.”

Harry didn’t respond. He knew they were talking around the main thing.

“I’ll probably be back,” he said. “It never seems to last and they get tired of me.”

“I’ll be here,” Chops said. “Nobody ever gives the ticket to a Black boy.”

The golden ticket. That’s what they called it when a foster family took somebody out of the Mac. Bosch had gotten the golden ticket and was leaving in the morning.

“They only picked me for a paycheck,” Harry said.

“How you figure that?” Chops said.

“The guy works in a grocery store. He said I’m going to go to work with him. He’s going to keep the money I get paid and give me an allowance. I’ll get the rest when I leave.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“How you mean? That’s your money he’s taking.”

“What I mean is I’m not going to be working there long.”

“You’re gonna run like last time you got the ticket?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna run.”

“Don’t get caught again.”

“I won’t.”

Some silence followed as both boys thought seriously about Harry leaving. Chops finally spoke.

“Think we’ll ever see each other again? On the outside?”

“Yeah, on the outside. Why not?”

“Maybe because it’s different out there now.”

Harry knew he was talking about the friction and anger in the city between whites and Blacks. Even inside the walls of the Mac, it felt like something was going to happen.

“I don’t care about any of that stuff,” Harry said.