"Kids pay better
attention than adults." Mr. Longfellow slouched in his chair with his soup
mug cradled in both hands. "Maybe you and I have been so focused on figuring
out what's causing all the discord in the air, we've blinded and deafened ourselves.
The kids got called up sooner than either of us would like because they aren't distracted."
"What brought you here to talk to me?" Miss Angela said, when Kurt and I just looked back and forth between the two of them, trying to figure out what they were talking about. It wasn't like they were talking over our heads, but there were so many unsaid things behind their words.
"We've been having
dreams about people trying to get into our rooms," Kurt said, when he had looked
at me and I looked at him, and we silently agreed he would do the speaking. It wasn't
telepathy, but we had spent enough time together, we understood each other well
enough to just know without words. He told them about how we were getting out of
bed before we woke up, to make sure the doors and windows in our cottages were secure.
"How long have you
had them?" Mr. Longfellow said.
With careful questioning, we determined that our nightmares had started the night of the community decorating party at the old Bucksby Factory. Some of the movers and shakers in town had decided the factory should be renovated, one room at a time, using only donations and volunteer labor, to turn it into a community center. The lobby had been refurbished, with a new drop ceiling and new floor tiles and new paint, and the decorating party was a combination of celebration, community event, and promotion to get people excited about the possibilities.
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