Where's my crazy girl? Think this fancy place is hers? Maybe she's doing a lot better with that do-gooder nonsense than I thought . . ."He had finally made it to the bedroom door. He froze, the tableau hardly better for my having stood up in my dishabille.Daddy's gaze seemed to flay me where I stood and then moved to Amir. I could see the tiny little cogs in his brain working--the horrible bigotry triggered at the sight of Amir's dark skin and curly hair combined with his even worse status as Other. Daddy was halfway to his holsters when I realized I'd need something a little more emphatic than a yell to make him stop. So I reached for the closest object at hand and threw it at him. It shattered with a particularly satisfying crash."Zeph!" Dad said, pistols thankfully forgotten."That was a fourteenth-century Ming!" Amir said, dropping to his knees and cradling the pottery shards. He started to see if they fit back together, but I could tell just by looking it was a lost cause. Daddy's hand was bleeding, but he didn't seem to notice.
