181 < 22 > MICHELLE’S STORY The week at school was mostly uneventful save Michelle’s enthusiasm and constant ploys for attention. They sucked face and felt each other up, or something. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. John’s father brought down a violin from a high closet shelf. It comes to this—am I to be trusted to take care of myself, or am I not?” “To judge from this proposal of yours, I should say not.
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