“Just to be on the safe side. Okay? Enough said. I'm not going to have a debate with you, Michael. Are we ready to travel?” Mr. Soneji was nice, but firm.

“Not really.” Michael continued to frown and shake his head. “No way, Josd Canseco. Seriously, Mr. Soneji. This isn't fair. It isn't right. Why can't the Secret Service come here and stay till school's over?”

“That's not the way they want to do it,” Mr. Soneji said. “I don't make up the rules.”

“I guess we're ready,” said Maggie. “C'mon, Michael. Stop arguing. This is a done deal.”

“ It's a done deal.” Ms. Kim offered a helpful smile. “I'll send over your homework assignments.” Both Maggie Rose and Michael started to laugh. “Thank you, Ms. Kim!” they said in unison. Leave it to Ms. Kim to have a good joke to fit the situation.

The halls outside the classroom were nearly empty, and very quiet. A porter, a black man named Emmett Everett, was the only person who saw the trio as they left the school building.

Leaning on his broom, Mr. Everett watched Mr. Soneji and the two children walk the length of the long hallway. He was the last person to see them all together.

Once outside, they hurried across the school's cobble stoned parking lot, which was framed by elegant birch trees and shrubbery. Michael's shoes made clicking noises against the stones.

“Dork shoes.” Maggie Rose leaned into him and made a joke. “Look like dork shoes, act like dork shoes, sound like dork shoes.”

Michael had no argument. What could he say? His mother and father still bought his clothes at freaking Brooks Brothers. “What am I supposed to be wearing, Miss Gloria Vanderbilt? Pink sneakers?” he offered lamely.

“Sure, pink sneakers.” Maggie beamed. "Or lime green Air-outs. But not shoes for a funeral, Shrimpster. Mr. Soneji led the children to a late-model blue van parked under elm and oak trees that went the length of the administration building and school gym. Nonsynchronous bouncing baskethalls echoed from inside the gym.