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He pointed toward the roof.
"Loose shingles."
I hated him.
I really did.
Unfortunately, part of me was trying not to smile.
The traitor.
"Go home."
"No."
"Beast."
"No."
I groaned.
Loudly.
The porch light clicked on next door.
Mrs. Jenkins appeared.
Wearing a pink robe.
Holding a coffee mug.
I froze.
Oh no.
No, no, no.
Not her.
Anybody but her.
She looked from me.
To Beast.
To my roof.
Then smiled. She actually walked off her porch so she couldget closer.
The dangerous smile.
The one that usually ended in trouble.
"Morning, kids," she hollered.
I considered moving.
Far away.
