Read John’s new story in the May 9 issue of The New Yorker

Three Short Moments in a Long Life

Beverly and I were second graders at New Carew Street School and we both hated recess. She hated recess and she cried the whole time and nobody knew why, so everybody made fun of her. I hated recess because it wasn’t really school and we weren’t learning anything. It was a waste of time. I knew Beverly only by name and by what I could tell from spying on her. Her last name was LaPlante, which was strange and therefore wrong, and she was known for being a crybaby. She was not even pretty. Her crying all the time frightened me, so I never spoke to her. Besides, I didn’t want anybody to think I was her friend. She didn’t belong. And, secretly, I feared that I didn’t belong, either. Continue reading…