“Sandcastles” by Margaret Barnes

A fist bangs on my door so thundering loud I think it must be the police. I throw a sheet over Leo, who is sprawled on the hide-a-bed, and crack open the door. But it’s only Mervin, the building superintendent. He leans against the railing outside my third-floor apartment, glaring down at the parking area, and shouts, “Don’t you know the rules by now? Visitors need a special pass!”

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