“Maybe I’ll get a job tending bar, for cash, of course.
What about work and income and those little challenges?” “I’ve been thinking about that,” Mark said and took a long swig. “I won’t take their calls.” “Okay, so they’ll put you on inactive status and notify your loan sharks and they’ll be out for blood.” “What if they can’t find me? What if I change phone numbers and move to another apartment? It would be easy to get lost in a city of two million people.” “I’m listening,” Todd said. My status will be day to day.” “Okay, but what are you going to do when the law school starts calling?” Todd asked. “If you don’t go to class, then what are your plans?” “I have no plans. When it was behind them, Mark asked, “Are you guys really going to class on Monday? I’m not.” “That’s either the second or the third time you’ve said that,” Zola said. They slowed and passed through the small town of Boyce. Aren’t you?” “I’m beyond exhausted,” she said. Now we’re supposed to somehow push it all aside and hustle back to law school for our last semester, which will be followed by two months in hell studying for the bar exam, so we can do something to make a little money and start repayment, which, actually, is far more impossible than it seems, and it seems awfully damned impossible at the moment.
“tossed in a prison to wait on deportation.
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