Every intention. It wasn’t a cold night but it was cool and the moon was in full flight. He and Woody had take-away and a video. Everything was fine. So what changed things? Max couldn’t stop thinking – about the day, Fatman, Mr. Davidson, bubbles in a pink flowing stream and a fragile autumn leaf, hiding behind a boulder. His mind wouldn’t leave him alone. The ordeal had made him exhausted, but the urge to do something, anything, overpowered him. He waited until Woody was sound asleep. Then he rode his bike to school and watched while the security guards completed their check and left. He scaled the cyclone fence at the back of the school where the high riverbanks ran down to the water. Crouching, he scampered across to the stairs of the fire escape. The moon was in full bloom, its light, silver and chilly. The sound of his sneakers echoed on the metal steps. The time was 11:50 p.m.
