“If I have to take this shit down …” She bangs on a ladder rung. “I told you to shut up. And don’t worry, we’re not taking it down.” “You’re not?” I ask in the same way I ask my students if they’re really sure they want to do whatever boneheaded thing they think they want to do. But she’s entirely unfazed by the clear warning in my tone. She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms. “No. We’re not. Dylan’s almost done. You can finish if you prefer. Either way, you’re participating in the neighborhood lights display.” Something about her defiance, the tilt of her chin as she stands at the foot of
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