The bookshop now had a kitchenette and employee lounge, as well as a spare room that we were probably going to use for storage (if you listened to Cade) or a deluxe napping station (if you listened to me and Sylvie). Since we’d had to rebuild Broken Spines after it was burned down, we’d expanded upward.
Knowing Sylvie, it could be anything from a cape to a life-size Dalek cozy. I couldn’t quite tell what she was making.
The clicking resumed as she returned to her work. “Stick to the script, please,” Sylvie responded, her voice a singsong. “As if you’re fit for polite society now, Rat.” I stuck my tongue out at him. Maybe if I shaved my head, I’d be cooler.Ĭade knocked my feet down. I wiped sweat off my forehead with the heel of my hand. “‘But, Papa, the dance is tonight! If I miss it, I won’t be able to hold my head up in polite society all season!’” I crossed my ankles, my bare feet resting on the paint-splattered drop cloth covering the couch. Sylvie ignored Cade, the click of her knitting needles pausing as she counted rows. Firebugs and cloth-based handicrafts don’t really go together well. Make that an entire herd of skydiving walruses in matching spandex doing a synchronized aerial routine as they plummeted toward the earth. The likelihood of me sitting down to work on some stitchery is about up there with seeing a walrus skydive. “‘I told you, Ava-you can’t go out if you didn’t finish your…’ I’m sorry, does this say embroidery?” Cade glanced at Sylvie, a dubious expression on his face, and for very good reason. I fanned myself with the papers in my hand and tried to listen to Cade.
Sylvie said she saw one once, but I’m pretty sure she was just hallucinating. Not that we had ice cream trucks in our town. So why was it that all it took was a hot summer day in Maine and a stuffy loft to make me want to stick my head in the freezer? If an ice cream truck went by right now, I’d melt the tires and tackle the driver. FIREBUGS ARE CREATURES of flames and heat, sibling to the phoenix and dragon.
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