answers.
“Grab her and then come sit with me,” he said. “The group will explain the rest.
“Don’t worry,” he added. “They’re harmless. Relatively. But they’re a bit full of themselves.” He winked.
We did find Winter brewing her god-awful coffee. She started to say something, but Ms. Curtis told us to grab a doughnut and go sit down; Winter, too. Micah seized two chocolate crullers, and Winter grabbed a Styrofoam cup of her bitter brew and six sugar packets. Micah inhaled one of the crullers before offering me the other. I shook my head. I couldn’t stomach anything. I watched him stuff the second cruller in his mouth and head back for more.
“I see you and Micah have worked things out,” Ms. Curtis said. I had the feeling she’d seen me watching Micah. “You make an interesting couple.”
“Oh, we’re not—” I stopped because I knew I was busted. Interesting ?
“I won’t tell anyone,” she whispered as Micah and Winter worked their way back toward us. Ms. Curtis herded everyone into the front row of seats.
Winter sat next to her grandfather, then Micah, then me. The librarian sat in one of the chairs by the podium at the front of the room. An older man stood at the podium and banged a gavel. Officer Bell slipped into the seat next to mine. He offered me a soda. I just shook my head.
“I call this meeting of the Memory Loss Support Group to order. Madam Secretary will review the minutes of the last meeting.”
Ms. Curtis stood up and began to recite, “The MLSG met on February fifteenth at the Southside Methodist Church. The meeting lasted approximately fifty-three minutes. The Right Honorable Chairman Wilson Carver presided. We covered the following agenda items.”
The librarian then rattled off a list of actions. The Black Van Committee reported three sightings last month, each in the vicinity of a later incident. (Micah caught my eye at the mention of the vans.) The Phone Tree Committee practiced a “fire drill” scenario. The Refreshment Committee decided to purchase doughnuts rather than bagels. Then she went through a litany of such-and-such moved this and such-and-such seconded it, this was tabled, and that was so noted.
“Is this a student council meeting?” Micah whispered to me.
“More like my parents’ home owners’ association,” I whispered back. We’d had them at our house many, many times. Very dreary. I didn’t know how they ever got anything done.
The cop stifled a laugh. Mr. Carver glared at us.
I looked at the old metal clock on the wall. Ms. Curtis had been going for ten minutes. And she was doing it all without looking at a piece of paper or a mobile. Pure memory.
“We don’t commit anything to paper,” the cop leaned in and whispered as if reading my thoughts. “Not that there’s anything significant to put down.”
The chairman glared at us again. Ms. Curtis sat down after another minute of yeahs and nays.
“We have a number of new items to cover today,” Mr. Carver said without getting up. “We need more money for the Jonas Defense Fund in order to help the Trujillo family. Luis has been ‘away’ for nearly a year now, and Mercy was let go—again—last week. And we—”
Ms. Curtis leaned over and whispered something to the chairman. He sighed and nodded.
“Yes. Maybe we should dispense with our old business for the moment,” he said, looking at us. “Our guests are getting restless. And I believe we need to get them back before their bedtimes.”
Now I was really angry.
“Moving on to new business,” the chairman said, looking at me. “We want you kids to stop producing your comic.”
“What?” Micah almost spat out his fourth cruller.
“Sasuke-san?” Winter turned to her grandfather. Clearly she was as clueless as we were.
I stood up. “Excuse me, who are you guys anyway? And why the hell should we do what you say?”
“Grab her and then come sit with me,” he said. “The group will explain the rest.
“Don’t worry,” he added. “They’re harmless. Relatively. But they’re a bit full of themselves.” He winked.
We did find Winter brewing her god-awful coffee. She started to say something, but Ms. Curtis told us to grab a doughnut and go sit down; Winter, too. Micah seized two chocolate crullers, and Winter grabbed a Styrofoam cup of her bitter brew and six sugar packets. Micah inhaled one of the crullers before offering me the other. I shook my head. I couldn’t stomach anything. I watched him stuff the second cruller in his mouth and head back for more.
“I see you and Micah have worked things out,” Ms. Curtis said. I had the feeling she’d seen me watching Micah. “You make an interesting couple.”
“Oh, we’re not—” I stopped because I knew I was busted. Interesting ?
“I won’t tell anyone,” she whispered as Micah and Winter worked their way back toward us. Ms. Curtis herded everyone into the front row of seats.
Winter sat next to her grandfather, then Micah, then me. The librarian sat in one of the chairs by the podium at the front of the room. An older man stood at the podium and banged a gavel. Officer Bell slipped into the seat next to mine. He offered me a soda. I just shook my head.
“I call this meeting of the Memory Loss Support Group to order. Madam Secretary will review the minutes of the last meeting.”
Ms. Curtis stood up and began to recite, “The MLSG met on February fifteenth at the Southside Methodist Church. The meeting lasted approximately fifty-three minutes. The Right Honorable Chairman Wilson Carver presided. We covered the following agenda items.”
The librarian then rattled off a list of actions. The Black Van Committee reported three sightings last month, each in the vicinity of a later incident. (Micah caught my eye at the mention of the vans.) The Phone Tree Committee practiced a “fire drill” scenario. The Refreshment Committee decided to purchase doughnuts rather than bagels. Then she went through a litany of such-and-such moved this and such-and-such seconded it, this was tabled, and that was so noted.
“Is this a student council meeting?” Micah whispered to me.
“More like my parents’ home owners’ association,” I whispered back. We’d had them at our house many, many times. Very dreary. I didn’t know how they ever got anything done.
The cop stifled a laugh. Mr. Carver glared at us.
I looked at the old metal clock on the wall. Ms. Curtis had been going for ten minutes. And she was doing it all without looking at a piece of paper or a mobile. Pure memory.
“We don’t commit anything to paper,” the cop leaned in and whispered as if reading my thoughts. “Not that there’s anything significant to put down.”
The chairman glared at us again. Ms. Curtis sat down after another minute of yeahs and nays.
“We have a number of new items to cover today,” Mr. Carver said without getting up. “We need more money for the Jonas Defense Fund in order to help the Trujillo family. Luis has been ‘away’ for nearly a year now, and Mercy was let go—again—last week. And we—”
Ms. Curtis leaned over and whispered something to the chairman. He sighed and nodded.
“Yes. Maybe we should dispense with our old business for the moment,” he said, looking at us. “Our guests are getting restless. And I believe we need to get them back before their bedtimes.”
Now I was really angry.
“Moving on to new business,” the chairman said, looking at me. “We want you kids to stop producing your comic.”
“What?” Micah almost spat out his fourth cruller.
“Sasuke-san?” Winter turned to her grandfather. Clearly she was as clueless as we were.
I stood up. “Excuse me, who are you guys anyway? And why the hell should we do what you say?”
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