[ WP ] At birth , everyone is randomly assigned one law they can break for the rest of their life . You are given ... .. loitering .

The Anti-Law Lottery never excited me much. The prospect of a personal, individual freedom was theoretically tantalizing until I learned the definition of `` loitering''. Knowing I could stand around without legal repercussions was fine, but it was n't high up my list of priorities. I usually had another way to spend my time, anyway, rather than waiting around for someone to decide I had crossed the threshold between Plain Old Regular Standing Around and my Anti-Law allotment. 
 
 That was the way it was for most of my childhood. The possibility was always in the back of my mind, but it was n't until my first year of middle school that I decided to really give it a proper go. 
 
 It was June. My gym class was deep in the midst of a fourth lap around the track, and my adolescent weight clung to me tenaciously. The sun was attempting to melt my rubber shoes to the black tar of the asphalt. Sweat leaked from every pore on my body, and I tried to lose myself in thoughts of air-conditioning, struggling to keep placing one foot in front of the other. 
 
 I glanced at Coach Morgan, who straddled the track, a cranky, overweight Colossus; his disapproval furrowed across his brow, and he fired off an unnecessary blast on the whistle hanging from his neck as students whizzed by. `` Let's keep it up!'' he shouted at us all, clapping twice. 
 
 As I rounded the corner near his position, I saw - as one might see a vision of a lush garden in the desert - the apparition of a few trees near the building walls and their accompanying shade. My path became clear. I stumbled into the restorative cover and stood, heaving, as my breath returned slowly. 
 
 Mr. Morgan turned toward me, non-plussed. `` Did you get lost? Back on the track!'' 
 
 My heart quickened, knowing what I was about to do. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and dragged the damp palm across my shirt. `` I, um. I do n't want to?'' 
 
 His brows rose a few inches from their perch. `` It's not a request!'' 
 
 `` I know, but... It's my Anti-Law.'' 
 
 He stood still for a moment, his jaw hanging open in half-amusement, half-disgust. `` Your Anti-Law is being lazy?'' Students slowed to listen as they approached at the bend. 
 
 `` No, I mean - loitering. Loitering is my Anti-Law.'' 
 
 `` Son, I do n't give a sh-... I do n't give a darn whether your Anti-Law is cake for breakfast. You are at school, and we are responsible for you. When you're in my class, you answer to me.'' 
 
 `` But... but this is what I can do! I'm allowed to do this!'' Six or seven people in my class had slowed to a shuffle, and one was at a dead stop, watching and waiting for an outcome. Defiance swelled up in me like a fiery boil, hot and ready to burst. I knew I was being stupid, but something about this did n't seem right. If I could n't exercise my Anti-Law at will, what was the point? If not now, when would I ever? 
 
 `` You can do plenty, but that do n't mean I wo n't bust your ass for it.'' All pretense of cleaning up his language was gone now, the menace dripping from his voice. He advanced swiftly across the trim-but-browning grass as I stood, helpless, and he grabbed my arm so tightly it hurt. The moment he took hold of me, all my anger deflated, and my twelve-year-old self knew that nothing in life would ever be simple or fair. 
 
 He led me - dragged me, really - into the principal's office, and dumped me into the waiting chair. 
 
 `` What happened?'' asked Prinicipal Goulding, looking up from the stack of folders and papers on his desk. 
 
 `` Kid wo n't run,'' Morgan spat. 
 
 Goulding glanced at me. `` Why not?'' 
 
 `` Says it's his Anti-Law.'' 
 
 `` Not running is his...?'' 
 
 `` Loitering.'' 
 
 `` Oh.'' Goulding sighed. `` I'll take it from here.'' 
 
 `` All right, but do n't let him...'' 
 
 `` I've got it, Charles.'' 
 
 `` Good, fine.'' Charles - I had not known that was his first name - positively stomped out of the office and slammed the door behind him, leaving the principal and I alone. 
 
 Goulding paused a moment, probably to collect his thoughts, and then looked me in the eye. `` All right. So your Anti-Law is loitering.'' 
 
 I nodded, sullen, picking at my palm. My sweat was making me stick to the vinyl backing on the chair. 
 
 He looked me over. `` Pretty hot out there, I gather.'' 
 
 I nodded again. 
 
 He turned away. `` You know... My brother-in-law's Anti-Law sounds great, on the surface. Want to know what he got? Public intoxication.'' 
 
 In spite of myself, I giggled. 
 
 He turned his head and looked at what I assumed was a family portrait on his desk. `` I know, it sounds funny, right? You better believe he loved to tailgate, that's for sure. Cops could n't touch him. But he's an angry drunk. The shouting matches he started did n't go so well. And when it turned out to be his boss's wife he was cursing at during the big game at halftime? He had a lot more free time for drinking after that.'' 
 
 I remained silent, watching his face. I could feel this being twisted around on me, and I did n't like it. 
 
 `` The point is, just because you can do something does n't mean it's a good idea. Do you understand that?'' 
 
 I grudgingly nodded. `` Yeah.'' 
 
 He looked at me again, sternly. `` I hope so. Think about that in detention.'' 
 
 `` De-detention?'' My stomach went cold. My mother would literally set me on fire when she found out. 
 
 He laughed. `` I'm not giving you detention. Just do n't do it again, and try to realize this Anti-Law stuff is n't black and white.'' He reached inside of a mini-fridge behind his desk and pulled out two ice cream bars. `` You eat these things?'' 
 
 `` Yeah!'' 
 
 He handed me one. `` Want to know my Anti-Law?'' 
 
 `` Mmmhmmph!'' I assented, mouth full of ice cream. 
 
 He peeled the paper off and took a bite of his own. `` I can eat these on the sidewalk in Carmel, NY.''
