She had painted it gold. Lumpy gold. Now it looked worse than a gas station. It could be a landing dock for UFOs. Two kindergarten kids stood in the doorway. They chopped the air with their hands. “I’m Trevor, the Karate Kid,” one of them said. Mitchell jumped. Then he saw that Trevor was crying. “What’s the matter?” “My mask is gone,” the boy said. Mitchell swallowed. “Did it have a clown nose?” “Yes. It made me look tough. Just like Zelda A. Zigzag.” The boy sniffled. “I wrote my initials on the back. T.P., for Trevor Petway.” Mitchell gulped. “Peter Petway is your brother?” Trevor nodded. Mitchell closed his eyes. “Did you tell him about the mask?” “Good idea,” Trevor said. “Don’t do that,” Mitchell said quickly. “Couldn’t you make another one?” “I’d need scissors and markers. All that stuff.” The other kid punched at the air. “It’s tough to make those masks. Mine’s great. It says C.D. for Clifton Dunbar right on the teeth.”
