“I’m allowed to prefer a quiet life!” I say loudly. “Yes, you are!” they say together, their voices matching mine. “I’m allowed to be brave in little ways instead of saving the world all the time!” “Yes, you are!” And finally, the crowning achievement of my realization: “I”—I stomp my foot—“am allowed”—another foot stomp, because I can’t help it—“to be boring!” They cheer, and I love them for it. “Yes, you are! You’re not boring,” Sophie adds as an aside. “But you could be if you wanted to!” Willa shouts.
HUZZAH
