Fire Escape Holiday

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"Mom I don't feel so good."
"What's a matter?"
"My belly hurts."
"How bad?
"Oh, I'm going to be sick."
OK, go back the bed."
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Mom and me had a deal. If I kept my marks up she'd let me play hooky in the last quarter of school a few times. But we couldn't tell my brother.
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After Rory went to school, I'd crawl into the living room and put the TV on and watch the Sandy Becker show. When Mom got comfortable with the idea of me being home, I'd loosen up and hang out in the kitchen with her for awhile before bringing all my possessions onto the fire escape.
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The fire escape was my terrace, my spauldeens, shoe boxes full of crap, magazines, baseball cards and plastic soldiers all came out with me. I'd stay on the fire escape till lunch then go back out for the rest of the afternoon. I'd sit on the metal stairs and dream that the backyard was a forest and I was watching all the action. Mom let me play music on Dad's Victrola right inside the window, we'd trade songs for a few hours. Dad would have killed us.