“Do you happen to have anything that isn’t as fancy?” “Excuse me?” The Beave asks. “What do you mean not so fancy?” Do I answer? I was told to be quiet. Would Huxley answer? Or would he just stare? I think he would just stare. So that’s what I do. I stare at her. “Ophelia, I asked you a question.” I know, but I’m supposed to just stare, so . . . that’s what I do, as sweat creeps up my neck, because this staring thing is hard. The Beave must pick up on what I’m doing because she folds her hands in front of her and stares back. Oh God! It’s a stare off. Breaker did not prepare me for this.
