It must’ve been written in some Old World Testament: when you’re anxious for school to be over, time decides to take a personal call and ignore the growing line of customers. The slowdown doubled on Fridays, and tripled if the sun was beaming into the classroom to tease the students. “You could be out here right now if it weren’t for Mr. Stewart’s lecture.”  

Brylie wondered if she could double check Grandmama’s Bible for confirmation in regards to the Testament and its opinion on school and Friday afternoons. Could she flip through the pages and see that Psalm number something or rather did, in fact, state that school had to take its time ending when the weekend was near? Then again, the elderly woman owned the New Testament – King James and all that – so the old rule may have been lost in translation. Besides, Brylie didn’t want to go anywhere near Grandmama’s drawer of religion, otherwise, she’d be roped into putting on her Sunday best and sitting in the Lord’s house for hours on end. The old woman would probably want her to wear that floral print dress she had gotten her for Christmas last year, complete with perfectly white tights covering her dark skin. Then she’d insist that she put a bow in her hair, probably tell her to straighten it so it didn’t look so wild. Someday Grandmama would realize that Brylie had outgrown the “Just For Me” perm kit and sunflower dress look years ago. She was sixteen now, for Christ’s sake.