eightOn the fifth day of Zumpo’s vigil at the nursing school, Leela finally came out of the old iron doors. She was in a nurse’s uniform that was half covered by a heavy fringe jacket Zumpo had once liberated from a western outfitters store—a simple matter of prestidigitation. Leela had a heavy tote bag over her left shoulder filled with more books than Zumpo had read in his entire life. He always knew she was smart but not that smart.
He stood up and tipped his big, black Stetson with the eagle feather in the hat band.
Leela gave him a warning. “Georgie! You can’t sit here anymore. They’re going to call the cops if you sit here anymore.”
Zumpo assumed his most innocent, and even righteous, posture. “But I’m not sitting anywhere.”
“You know what I mean, Georgie. Don’t give me any bulls
