Xavier
The canoe falls silent again. Landon flicks his finger at a piece of peeling paint on the rim of the canoe; it flies off into the water and drifts away. A second later, it's joined by another fleck of paint, and then another. "Stop doing that," I say sharply. "Stop doing what?" he replies, sending another scrap of paint to its watery demise. "That," I say, jabbing my finger at the offending paint-job. "You shouldn't flick paint into the lake. It's not good for the..." I struggle to come up with an adequately scathing (yet still factual) remark. "The fish." Landon snorts. "Concerned for your family?" "Wow, so creative. You know it's not funny when you call me that." "Call you what?" he asks innocently. My eyes are like slits now. All scrunched up and perturbed. "You know wh
