Where are you, Crenshaw, when you’re not with me?” “You’ve seen a teachers’ lounge, right?” “I’ve peeked. We’re not allowed in. Mostly I saw a lot of coffee cups and Mr. Destephano napping on a couch.” “Picture a giant teachers’ lounge. Lots of people waiting and snoozing and telling stories about exasperating, amazing children. That’s where I stay. That’s where I wait, just in case you need me.” “That’s all you do?” “That’s plenty. Imaginary friends are like books. We’re created, we’re enjoyed, we’re dog-eared and creased, and then we’re tucked away until we’re needed again.”
