“I eat like a toddler. Shawn said so.”
“Your robust enjoyment is delightful.”
“Thanks.” I wiped my own chin. “So, who spelled you to make you invisible? Is it rude to ask?”
“My father first cast the spell when I was two years old. I often wonder what I look like, Otto. Is my hair golden like yours? Are my eyes a similar shade of summer afternoon sky?”
“Surely, someone told you.” As if thumbing through the Hair and Eye Color Change App on my phone, I tried a bunch of different looks for Artemis in my head.
“According to Bampas, Papa, I would grow to be as sturdy as the columns that hold up the coliseum, with tresses of bronze and eyes that match the darkest, brooding night.”
“Do you brood, Artemis?”
“Often, I do,” he said. “There is more to one’s face and body than size and coloring,
