A week later at lunchtime. A wobbly table that’s too uneven to set a drink on. Uncomfortable chairs designed to make you leave quickly. The scent of roasting coffee. Ratna and I sit near the front window, cupping our mugs and staring through the steamed-up windows at the spring rain. My glasses a...
My yo-yos have been imprisoned for the last hour in Mr. Davis’s oversize desk. My hands ache to finish my last trick. Why did Sasha do this to me? Am I really that much of a threat? I squirm in a hardback chair as Mr. Davis smoothes his tie against his shirt and sits in his cushioned leather chai...