Chapter 2
We stop back at my apartment. It’s in Waverly Court, a decent residential area with more than a touch of class, if I do say so myself. Clear boundaries between the kitchen, living room, and bathroom will do that. Much of Tipton is so space-starved that efficiencies are the name of the game. I sit David down on the couch across from the big-screen TV. My collection of tiki people watch us impassively.
They’re from those old cartoons, really old, where hostile island natives are nothing but pointy, oblong heads attached to arms and legs. They run around like crazy, poking people with spears and boiling hapless explorers alive. Pounding drums and maniacal laughs figure heavily into the soundtracks.
“You know that was elf magic, right?” I say, sharply.
Like most teenagers, David
