Have knitted half a sock during my lunch breaks, hunched over Walt Longmire. I’m supposed to have a chair for this, I complain to myself, not just a stool in a break room. A big leather chair by a window, in a house I have fixed up myself, with a cup of coffee and a mystery novel and a wood stove and OH GOD I AM A 65 YEAR OLD MAN.
Public service announcement to persons under the age of 11: the adults in charge do not care if you get up to trouble, so long as you are discreet and we can reasonably pretend not to notice. Suddenly going still and silent and turning to stare as one multi-headed organism does NOT COUNT AS DISCREET. How many juvie adventure novels end with all the heroes staring blankly at an adult until they are busted? Nobody wants to read that. Learn to be more subversive.
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